Chapter 1

At my daughter's seventh birthday party, I was just about to call for her father to come cut the cake.

Instead, Vito Romano shoved me away in front of everyone.

"Don't call me that. I'm not her father!"

He slammed a DNA paternity report down on the table.

I couldn't get a word in edgewise. My adoptive parents slapped me across the face right there.

Alessia—the "real daughter" they'd just welcomed home—shrank into my husband's arms, eyes red, playing innocent:

"I'm so sorry, Sofia. I only mentioned in passing that Bella doesn't look like your husband. I never thought he'd actually go and get it tested…"

From that day on, I was branded a whore.

And Bella became the bastard child everyone spat on.

Then my husband filed for divorce.

For my daughter's sake, I swallowed my pride and went to beg him—just one more DNA test.

But instead, I overheard him talking to a friend:

"You faked a DNA report to humiliate your wife for Alessia's sake, stamped Bella as a bastard—aren't you worried your wife and kid will actually leave?"

His voice was breezy, indifferent:

"Why would I worry? My in-laws know the DNA test was forged."

"She's the fake daughter who stole all those years of Alessia's life. Once Alessia feels like things are even, I'll just remarry Sofia. Simple."

"Sofia can't survive without me. Even after the divorce, she'll wait."

I thought of Bella crying, asking me if Daddy really didn't want her anymore.

I clenched my fists so hard my nails broke the skin of my palms.

The next day, I didn't cry. I didn't make a scene. I went to city hall with him and signed the divorce papers calmly.

What he didn't know was that the moment I walked out of that building, I turned around and picked up another marriage certificate.

Standing outside his door, listening to Vito's careless words, I could barely keep my legs beneath me.

His friend tried to say something more, but Vito cut him off with a low laugh.

"Relax. When the time comes, I'll just act like I didn't know. I'll say the hospital made a mistake. She'll come crawling back on her own."

I braced myself against the wall, a spasm of pain twisting through my chest.

Just hours earlier, Bella had come home from school in tears. Her uniform—the one she always kept so neat—was caked in mud, her knees scraped raw and bloody.

I called her teacher. The voice on the other end was ice-cold, demanding we transfer schools:

"Bella's mother, do you really need me to spell it out? When a parent's personal life is this disgraceful, when it's all anyone talks about—every child in that school knows your daughter is some man's illegitimate mistake. The other parents have serious concerns, and frankly, we're in a very difficult position."

I hung up and held my trembling daughter, my heart splitting open.

She looked up at me, her small face streaked with tears:

"Mommy, if I really am Daddy's daughter… would he love me again?"

For that one sentence, I threw away every last shred of dignity and came to find Vito.

To beg him for one more DNA test.

I never imagined I'd overhear something so vile instead.

In his eyes, publicly forging a DNA test to humiliate me was nothing—a trivial inconvenience.

The shame and abuse Bella and I endured was just a performance he'd staged to please another woman.

Even my adoptive parents—who'd always sworn they loved me most—were accomplices in his little play.

In his eyes, publicly forging a DNA test to humiliate me was nothing—a trivial inconvenience.

The shame and abuse Bella and I endured was just a performance he'd staged to please another woman.

Even my adoptive parents—who'd always sworn they loved me most—were accomplices in his little play.

I shut my eyes against the pain.

Behind the door, their laughter continued.

His friend seemed to feel a twinge of guilt:

"But what about Bella? I saw her earlier—a bunch of kids were screaming 'bastard' at her and she ran out of school crying. You're really okay with her suffering like that? If she ever finds out the truth, she might never forgive you."

Vito's tone dripped with the arrogance of a man convinced he held all the cards:

"Kids forget fast. A little suffering never hurt anyone. Besides, she's my biological daughter—blood is thicker than water. You really think she'd disown her own father?"

I dug my nails deeper into my palms, but I couldn't feel the pain.

Before, I would have kicked that door open and demanded answers.

But this time, I simply turned around.

This divorce was happening. No matter what.