“We had to set you aside, Valentine,” said Dina, the woman who gave birth to me. “Our family holds influence. We had to protect our name, and that meant presenting Dahlia as the legitimate Lombardi heir.”
“We couldn’t let someone without standing represent this Familia. You wouldn’t want to be the reason we became a joke, right?” my father added, as if discarding me had been a favor. “And this truth must stay buried.”
I said nothing. My heart had already gone cold.
“Does this mean you’re taking her back, Dad?” Dahlia asked. Her tone was calm, but her calculating eyes were sharply locked on me. She was always like that. Sweet mask, with venom underneath.
“No,” my father replied. “We can’t do that. It would unravel everything we’ve spent years covering.”
Then he turned to me and took my hand. “But we’ll support you. We can send you to school, Valentine. We’ll cover everything.”
That moment told me everything. They would never claim me as their daughter, be it publicly or privately. Still, they funded my schooling. I convinced myself that was enough.
I used to envy Dahlia. She had everything. My bloodline. My rightful place. Even the man I loved.