Chapter 1

My twin sister, Bianca, tried to kill herself because I was better than her at school.

Apparently, my success triggered her. So my parents sent me away from the Bellini estate.

“Only until the college decisions come out,” Mother promised. “Then you can come home.”

Behind her, my brother, Dante, helped Bianca choose her new armored Bentley.

My boyfriend, Luca, stood beside them, holding Bianca’s favorite white roses.

“If anything happens, call us, Valentina.”

I did.

A month later, two armed men tried to force their way into my apartment.

I locked myself in the bathroom and called my family again and again.

Every call was declined.

Near dawn, Mother finally texted.

Sorry, sweetheart. We were celebrating Bianca’s birthday. Seeing your name might have upset her.

After that, I stopped asking for help.

The last college decision arrived, but they still wouldn’t let me return.

Then, at our eighteenth-birthday gala, the Bellinis presented Bianca to New York as their beloved and only principessa.

Mother sent me another message.

Your sister still needs time. Please wait.

This time, I was done waiting.

They didn’t know I had already accepted my offer from MIT.

I was leaving the Bellini family behind.

Chapter 1

I lowered my gaze to the four custom LEGO figures sitting on my desk.

I had ordered them during my first week here—Mother, Father, Dante, and Luca. It had seemed pathetic even then, but arranging them around my textbooks made the apartment feel less empty.

I was about to pack them away when my phone lit up.

Mother: Come home this afternoon. We need to discuss your college decision.

My eyes caught on one word.

Home.

Something inside me stirred before I could stop it.

Maybe they remembered their promise.

I called a cab.

Months ago, I had taken a Bellini car to visit Bianca at the hospital. The moment she saw me, she suffered another breakdown.

Father blamed me and revoked my access to the family fleet, making sure I could never show up uninvited again.

When the cab stopped at the estate’s iron gates, guards surrounded it and questioned the driver before finally letting us through.

By the time I stepped into the main salon, Bianca was seated in the center of the room, four beautifully wrapped gifts arranged before her.

Mother, Father, Dante, and Luca surrounded her.

“UCLA and USC,” Mother said, smoothing Bianca’s hair. “Our girl received two wonderful offers in California.”

She didn’t mention the donations Father had made, the trustees he had called, or the favors he had traded to secure those offers.

Bianca smiled softly. “I still don’t know which one to choose.”

“UCLA,” Dante said. “It’s one of the best universities.”

Luca shook his head. “USC would suit her better. It’s smaller, more private, and the Bellinis already have connections there.”

Mother gave Bianca’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

“Either way, California will be good for her. Her doctors have always said the sunshine and warmer climate would help her recovery.”

They argued over Bianca’s acceptance as if she had just conquered California.

But I knew her recovery had never been the real issue. I had seen how quickly Bianca’s fragility vanished when no one was watching.

Once, after one of her panic attacks, I found her alone, laughing at something on her phone. The instant Mother entered, Bianca dropped the phone and her hands began to tremble again.

I told my family what I had seen. Mother accused me of being jealous, while Dante said I was trying to damage Bianca’s recovery.

After that, I stopped trying to prove anything.

Father watched from his chair, pride softening the severe lines of his face.

No one noticed me standing in the doorway.

For one disorienting moment, I felt like an intruder inside the house where I had been born.

Then Mother glanced up.

“Valentina. You’re here.”

The warmth left her voice, not entirely, but enough for me to hear the difference.

Bianca followed her gaze. Her smile faded.

Dante gestured toward the sofa. “Don’t just stand there.”

I sat in the chair farthest from Bianca.

Father studied me across the room. “Have all your college decisions come in?”

“Yes. I got into—”

“The exact list can wait,” Mother interrupted.

She sat beside Bianca and took her hand before looking at me.

“We asked you here because we need you to turn down any offers from California.” Mother said, “Bianca needs a fresh start, and it would be better if you weren’t attending school near her.”

For a moment, I thought I had misheard her.

Mother knew I had spent the past four years working toward Stanford. It had been my dream since freshman year.

Every advanced class I had taken, every competition I had entered, and every sleepless night I had spent studying had been for the chance to go there.

And now Mother was asking me to give it up as if it meant nothing.

I stared at her. “Why would I do that?”

Mother continued carefully. “Bianca has worked very hard this year. She deserves to begin college without feeling as though she’s competing with you again.”

Worked hard?

I knew exactly how Bianca had received those offers. Father had made donations, called trustees, and traded favors until doors opened for her.

I was the one who had spent four years earning my Stanford acceptance. No donations. No family connections. Not even a word of encouragement from the people now asking me to throw it away.

“I never competed with her.” I said.

“You don’t have to,” Bianca whispered. “You win without trying.”

Dante placed a protective hand on her shoulder.

I looked at Father. “You’re really asking me to throw away four years of work just to make Bianca comfortable?”

His gaze remained cold and steady.

“The decision has been made. You will stay away from California altogether. Bianca deserves one place where she won’t have to live in your shadow.”

Mother agreed. “This family has finally had a year of peace,” she said. “We can’t risk anything threatening your sister’s recovery. I knew you would understand.”

“Stanford has one of the best computer science programs in the country.” I insisted.

“And Cornell is an excellent school,” Father replied. “Far enough from the city to give Bianca room, but close enough that the family can still reach you.”

He had already chosen my future.

Just as he had chosen my apartment. My isolation. The amount of protection I deserved.

All without asking me.

I turned to Dante.

He frowned as though I were the one being unreasonable.

“You’ll do fine anywhere. You always do.”

Finally, I looked at Luca.

He had once sat beside me in the Bellini library while I filled out my Stanford application. He had kissed my temple and told me he couldn’t wait for me to join him there.

Now he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Luca?”

His jaw tightened.

For one foolish second, I still expected him to defend me.

Instead, he said quietly, “You’re brilliant, Val. A school doesn’t change that.”

Then he looked at Bianca.

“But she isn’t like you. She needs someone to take care of her.”

Chapter 2

Brilliant.

That was the word people had used to describe me for as long as I could remember.

Bianca was prettier, sweeter, and far better at making people want to protect her.

All I had was my mind.

I could read a book once and remember every page. I saw patterns other people missed and solved problems before they finished explaining them.

But my parents had never loved me more for it.

When Dante showed the same intelligence, Father called him a born strategist—the perfect heir to the Bellini empire.

When I did it, Mother would sigh.

“A Bellini woman should be clever enough to survive, Valentina. Not so clever that every man in the room feels challenged.”

Bianca never challenged anyone.

She asked Dante to explain things she already understood. She let Father make her decisions. She looked at Luca as though every word he spoke was worth remembering.

I was brilliant, so I could take care of myself.

Bianca was fragile, so she got the better bedroom, the extra guards, and the first claim on everyone’s affection.

The quality that made Dante worthy of inheriting the family had become the reason I needed less from it.

Then I met Luca during my sophomore year of high school.

He was a year older and had not met Bianca yet.

When I told him what my family thought of me, he frowned.

“Since when is being brilliant a flaw?”

He had taken my hand across the library table.

“Don’t make yourself smaller just because other people are intimidated by you, Val.”

He was the first person who made me believe my mind wasn’t something I needed to apologize for.

Then he met Bianca.

Months later, I watched him laugh as she pretended not to understand a simple card game.

“Your sister has no idea what she’s doing,” he told me afterward, still smiling. “It’s kind of adorable.”

I had ignored the uneasiness in my chest.

I loved him because he was the first person who told me being brilliant wasn’t a sin.

Now even he was using it as an excuse to take something from me.

“You’ll succeed anywhere,” he had said.

The salon fell silent.

Dante tapped one finger against the arm of his chair.

“Well?” he asked. “Say something, Valentina. No one is trying to hurt you. We’re protecting the family.”

Protecting the family. As if I had never been part of it.

I lowered my eyes before they could see them burn.

“Fine.”

I would give them exactly what they wanted. I would stay far away from Bianca, and from the rest of the Bellini family.

What none of them knew was that I had already accepted MIT’s offer.

In three days, I would be gone.

Relief passed through the room.

Mother immediately reached behind the sofa and brought out several gift bags.

“Don’t look so miserable,” she said. “We got you something too.”

Too.

The gifts were placed in front of me as if they settled the matter.

But I had already seen what they gave Bianca: a Maserati, a Cartier watch, a diamond bracelet, and a rare antique violin.

Mine came in four plain bags, each one feeling more like an afterthought than a present.

Father gave me a fountain pen from his desk.

Dante handed me a business book he had already read, his notes still written in the margins.

Mother offered me a canvas tote left over from one of her charity galas.

Luca’s gift was a dress Bianca had worn once. The tag was gone, but I recognized it from her Instagram.

Four gifts chosen without a single thought about me.

“There,” Mother said brightly. “Bianca isn’t the only one being celebrated. ”

I almost laughed.

They had taken Stanford from me and handed me Bianca’s discarded dress in exchange.

I gathered the bags and stood.

“Valentina,” Mother called as I reached the door.

I turned.

She hesitated before asking, “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

Stay.

I had been born in this house.

Now I needed permission to eat at its table.

“No, thank you.”

Outside the estate, I dropped all four gifts into the waste bin beside the gatehouse and called another cab.

Halfway back to Queens, my phone buzzed.

Bianca had posted a new Instagram Story.

Finally, a peaceful family dinner.

The photo showed Mother, Father, Dante, and Luca seated beneath the crystal chandelier in the formal dining room.

The table was covered with oysters, shrimp scampi, crab risotto, and lobster fra diavolo.

Every dish contained shellfish. I was severely allergic to shellfish.

If I had stayed, the only thing I could have safely eaten was the bread—and even that would have depended on which knife had touched it.

When I returned to the apartment, I pulled my suitcase from the closet.

The four LEGO figures sat around my textbooks, pretending to be the family who had never joined me here.

I turned each of them toward the wall.

Then I noticed the postcard on my desk.

Luca had given it to me before he met Bianca. The front showed Stanford’s Hoover Tower glowing beneath the California sun.

On the back, in his slanted handwriting, were seven words:

I’ll be waiting for you at Stanford, Val.

I stared at them for a long time.

Then I tore the postcard in half.

Chapter 3

窗体顶端

The next morning, I went to my shift at a café on Madison Avenue.

Most days, I worked behind the counter. But the café was launching a summer menu, so my manager handed me a giant coffee-cup costume and sent me outside with coupons.

By noon, the Manhattan heat had turned the costume into an oven.

I slipped behind the building, pulled off the foam head, and raised a bottle of water to my lips.

“Valentina?”

I froze.

My family stood near the entrance to an Italian boutique across the street.

Father and Mother were there, along with Dante, Luca, and Bianca. This was probably another shopping trip for Bianca.

Dante and Luca carried several designer bags between them.

Bianca carried nothing. She never had to.

Mother stared at my uniform, then at the ridiculous costume beside me. Surprise crossed her face first, followed by something that almost looked like concern.

“What are you doing here?” She hurried toward me. “You’re soaked with sweat.”

“Working.”

“Working?” Her brows drew together. “Valentina, your account receives eight thousand dollars every month. Why would you need a job?”

“It used to.”

Dante’s expression hardened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Only five hundred dollars has reached my account each month since January.”

“That’s impossible,” Mother said. “The family office transfers the full amount automatically.”

“They transfer it,” I replied. “Just not to me.”

I had discovered the missing money four months ago.

When I confronted Mr. Russo, the manager of our family accounts, he had looked deeply uncomfortable.

Bianca had told him I had agreed to give her most of my allowance. Since she lived at the estate and I didn’t, he had believed her.

I told Mother, Father, and Dante immediately.

Bianca cried and insisted it had been a misunderstanding.

My family decided I was using the money as an excuse to accuse her—and force my way back into the estate.

After that, I stopped asking.

I found the café job instead.

“You already told us this story,” Dante said coldly. “Why are you still lying about it?”

“I’m not.”

Bianca moved closer to Mother.

“Mr. Russo made a mistake, and I already apologized for the misunderstanding,” she said softly. “I suppose my apology still wasn’t enough for Valentina.”

Mother touched her arm reassuringly before turning back to me.

“If you were genuinely struggling, you should have come to me.”

“I did.”

But no one had believed me.

They never questioned Mr. Russo or asked to see the account records. Bianca gave them her version of the story, and that was all the proof they needed.

Luca had been silent the entire time.

I looked at him, still stupidly hoping he would remember the nights I had called him because I couldn’t afford another cab home.

Instead, he sighed.

“Val, you’re taking this too far.”

My fingers tightened around the water bottle.

“You made an accusation,” he said. “That isn’t the same as explaining that you needed help.”

His voice was calm and reasonable—the voice people used when they wanted cruelty to sound like common sense.

“Mr. Russo made a mistake. You turned it into proof that your entire family was against you. If you really need financial support, you could have called your mother again.”

Luca’s jaw tightened.

“This isn’t the place for a scene. Apologize to your mother, and we can move past it.”

I stared at him.

Even if I showed them the account records, nothing would change.

Bianca hadn’t taken my money. Mr. Russo had simply misunderstood her.

And somehow, I should have explained everything more clearly.

There was nothing left for me to say. I picked up the foam head.

“You should go. I have to get back to work.”

I pulled it over my face, shutting them out.

The world became dark and unbearably hot.

Behind me, Bianca’s breathing suddenly turned sharp.

“I’m so sorry—” she gasped. “You’re angry with me.”

I turned instinctively.

Bianca stumbled backward into a metal display stand. I reached for her, but Dante shoved between us and pulled her away.

The force sent me into the brick wall.

My forehead struck the hard frame inside the costume.

Pain exploded behind my eyes.

I caught myself against the wall, dizzy and half-blind.

“Easy, Bianca,” Luca murmured behind me. “Look at me. Breathe.”

Mother was already calling for water.

Father ordered one of the guards to bring the car around.

No one asked whether I was hurt.

I slipped through the café’s back door before they could see me cry.

By the end of my shift, a dark bruise had risen across my forehead.

At least it was payday.

Two more days. Then I would leave this place behind and board my flight to Boston. I just needed this paycheck to make it there.

I had asked to be paid in cash because the Bellini family office still monitored my bank account.

My manager handed me an envelope containing two weeks of wages, and I headed toward a halal cart a few blocks away.

All I wanted was chicken over rice and a cold lemonade.

For the first time that day, I almost smiled.

Then the vendor held one of my bills up to the light.

His expression darkened.

“Are you trying to scam me?”

“What?”

“They’re all counterfeit.”

People nearby began turning to stare.

The vendor pointed at me, his voice rising over the sidewalk.

“You come to my cart with fake money and expect me not to notice? Get out of here before I call the cops!”

Chapter 4

窗体底端

That night, I fled back to my apartment on an empty stomach, the counterfeit bills stuffed inside my bag.

The moment the café opened the next morning, I stormed inside and threw the envelope onto the counter.

“Why did you pay me with fake money?”

My manager barely flinched.

“I didn’t.”

“What?”

“Your mother came in yesterday with two Bellini soldiers. She collected your wages and left that envelope in their place.”

The room seemed to tilt beneath me.

“You gave my paycheck to her?”

“She’s the wife of Don Bellini.” His mouth twisted bitterly. “What exactly did you expect me to do?”

I grabbed the counter to steady myself.

“She said you needed to learn that earning money wasn’t as easy as you thought,” he added. “And that once you ran into trouble, you would remember who you were supposed to depend on.”

I had no money left for a cab.

I took the train north, then rode a bus as close to the Bellini estate as the route allowed. From there, I walked almost a mile beneath the afternoon sun.

The guards stopped me at the iron gates.

One of them studied my face before calling the main house to confirm that Don Bellini’s daughter was allowed inside.

Mother was drinking coffee in the sitting room when I found her.

“Did you take my wages?”

Mother didn’t look guilty. If anything, she seemed pleased that her lesson had worked.

“They were prop bills,” Mother said.

“You didn’t honestly think working at a café meant you could support yourself, did you? I needed you to understand that without this family’s protection, you have nothing.”

She stepped closer, her expression softening.

“Listen to me, Valentina. When you’re in trouble, you come to your father or me. And if you can’t reach us, you call Luca.”

My whole body shook .

Did she really think I had never tried?

When the heat failed in January, Mother said the apartment had passed inspection and I needed to stop looking for reasons to return home.

When my fever climbed so high I could barely stand, I called Dante and begged him to come. He accused me of faking it just to get back onto the Bellini estate, then hung up.

When the building lost power after midnight, Luca told me to lock the door and stay calm because I was still in Bellini territory. Then he stopped replying because Bianca needed help with her college application.

And when two armed men tried to force their way into my apartment, no one answered my call.

Every time I reached for my family, they found a reason I didn’t truly need them.

“Give it back,” I said, my voice breaking. “That money is mine. I earned it.”

Father entered before Mother could answer. The room changed the moment he appeared.

“What is going on?”

“Valentina came here shouting at me over a paycheck,” Mother said.

His gaze settled on me.

“The money isn’t the issue,” he said quietly. “Your disrespect is.”

“I worked for that money.”

“And you are standing in the home of Don Bellini, accusing his wife.”

He didn’t need to raise his voice. Men had been killed for ignoring that tone.

For one moment, however, I was too angry to be afraid.

“This is my home too.”

“Then behave like a Bellini,” he said coldly. “And show your mother some respect.”

Father’s gaze hardened, disappointment plain in his eyes.

“You lied about your sister taking your money, then took a job at a café to make us look cruel. Your mother tried to teach you a lesson instead of punishing you. You should be thanking her, not standing here raising your voice.”

Nothing I said would make them believe me. They had already decided Bianca was innocent and I was lying.

But I needed that money. I had almost nothing left for food.

I crossed the room and reached for the envelope in Mother’s hand.

Before my fingers could touch it, Father stepped between us, fury darkening his face.

“Enough.”

He signaled to the guard beside the door.

“Escort Valentina outside. She may return when she is ready to apologize.”

Father watched as the guard seized my arm and dragged me from the room.

By the time they released me in the foyer, tears were burning my eyes.

The front doors opened before I reached them.

Dante, Luca, and Bianca had returned.

Bianca held up a diamond hair clip that glittered beneath the chandelier.

“I still can’t believe something this small cost thirty thousand dollars.”

Dante laughed. “If you love it, the price doesn’t matter.”

“Besides,” Luca added, “your mother gave you the black card for your college wardrobe. You’re supposed to use it.”

Thirty thousand dollars.

More than I could earn in months of working at the café.

To Bianca, it was a hair accessory she wasn’t sure she should keep.

To me, a single paycheck had been turned into a lesson about obedience.

I stepped behind one of the marble columns before they noticed me, then slipped out through the service entrance.

This time, I didn’t cry until I reached the road.

After that day, none of them contacted me. They were waiting for my apology.

I used the silence to leave.

MIT had offered me a place in an early summer research program, allowing me to arrive before the rest of the freshman class.

The night before my flight, I packed the last of my belongings and made myself pasta and a small chocolate cake.

Then I placed the four LEGO figures around the table one final time.

“I guess this is my college send-off,” I told them.

“And our last dinner together.”

Their painted faces smiled back at me.

I smiled too.

“You don’t have to keep me company anymore.”

From now on, I would walk alone.

The next morning, I boarded my flight to Boston.

As the plane prepared for takeoff, the Bellini family group chat suddenly came alive.

Mother posted a photo of Bianca wearing a UCLA sweatshirt.

Bianca officially committed to UCLA! Valentina, you accepted Cornell, didn’t you? We’ll hold a joint college send-off dinner tomorrow.

Dante replied immediately.

Stop sulking before then. The entire family is expected to attend.

Then Luca sent me a private message:

I’ll pick you up myself.

I stared at their messages for a long moment.

Then I left the group chat and blocked every one of them.

The plane lifted from the runway, and New York disappeared beneath the clouds.

None of them knew I was already gone.