He was rewriting my entire existence.
Later, the door opened again.
I quickly shut my eyes, pretending to sleep.
Matteo walked in.
He stopped beside the bed, hands in his pockets, looking at me like I was something he owned.
“So still,” he murmured. “Almost peaceful. I might like you better like this.”
I watched him through the reflection on the tray beside me.
He smiled faintly.
“Don’t worry,” he added, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “I’ll visit. You’ll get to watch everything from here. Me, Bianca… even Mason. Maybe I’ll bring him sometimes. So you don’t forget what a real family looks like.”
He chuckled softly before turning away.
The door closed behind him.
And I broke.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
Just silent, suffocating sobs that tore through my chest while my body refused to move. I wanted to scream, to get up, to destroy something—anything.
But I couldn’t even stand.
My body had become a prison I couldn’t escape.
The next day, she came.
Bianca.
She looked almost angelic—white outfit, soft smile, flowers in her hands. Like she had stepped out of a perfect life that didn’t include betrayal.
“Oh, Aria,” she said gently, setting the flowers down. “You poor thing.”