Page 24

I stare at the first page.

The neat handwriting is mine.

My head starts to spin.

If you’re reading this, then somehow you survived. That means there’s still hope.

I’m writing this for you—for us. Because one day you might forget. And if you do, you deserve to know everything.

When I first returned to Melbourne, I was full of excitement. Foolish, bright-eyed excitement. Finally, I was going to spend time with Father, build a life with him after years of being educated abroad. France, Switzerland—those years felt like a dream compared to what waited for me here.

But I didn’t come home to peace. I came home to vultures circling. Father was surrounded by traitors. His council was rotten—men smiling at him during the day and plotting his destruction at night. And circling closest of all was the Accardi Syndicate.

His greatest threat. Serevin’s family.

Father was desperate. He proposed a solution: a marriage alliance with the Accardis. He told me that if I married Serevin, we could buy some time, stabilize the balance of power, and keep our enemies at bay.

I agreed. Because I loved my father. Because I wanted to believe there was still something left to save.

And so I married Serevin.

In the beginning, it was cold. He barely spoke to me.

I was simply another calculated piece on his board.

But something shifted. Slowly. The more he tried to maintain distance, the closer I felt.

I saw glimpses of him—behind the mask. The cracks in his armor.

The man hidden beneath the title. And to my own foolish heart, that was enough.

I fell in love with him.

And then Father died.

They said it was natural causes. A heart attack. But I knew better. I fought for the love I thought was real. And eventually, I confessed everything to Serevin. That I married him out of duty but stayed because I loved him.

But that was only the beginning.

Vittoria was never done playing her games. When she saw that my love for Serevin was no longer a weapon she could control, she broke me entirely. She told me the truth. The whole, twisted truth.

I was never Father’s biological daughter.

I was born in a brothel. My mother—a nameless woman who sold her body for scraps. She was just another broken soul trapped in their world. My real father was Aurelio Accardi.

Serevin’s adoptive father. And the man who I thought was my father had bought me from my mother knowing who my birth father was. The father I know is dead so I have no answers for why he did it.

Serevin knew. He knew long before we married.

He knew exactly what I was.

His stepsister. He said nothing.

I was never a wife. I was an instrument. A bargaining chip in a game played long before I even knew the rules.

And now, I’m tired. Exhausted. My entire life has been a lie. A story written by men who only saw me as a move on a board. I don’t know who I can trust. I don’t know if anyone was ever on my side.

But if you’re reading this… you survived.

And that means there is still a chance.

You are stronger than they think. You always were. You are not their pawn. You have blood. You have breath. You have power. Fight for yourself. Fight for what they tried to steal from you.

You’ll know what to do next.

— Fioretta

It was signed and dated.

The words blur in front of me. The final sentence presses against my skull like a knife. My head throbs as though my brain is splitting in two.

You’ll know what to do next.

Suddenly, I do.

The world spins. My fingers tremble as I clutch the diary against my chest, breath shallow, heart pounding like a war drum inside my ribcage. And then—

It floods back.

The locked door in my mind cracks open.

I see Vittoria’s face first.

That icy smile.

Her perfume—roses and steel.

We were in the study. All of us. Vittoria perched like a queen on one of the high-backed chairs, Emilia hovering beside her like a shadow. Cassian standing stiff near the door, unreadable. And Serevin… standing across from me. Watching. Always watching.

“You’re very fortunate, Fioretta,” Vittoria had said, voice dripping with venom-laced honey. “There are men in this world who would discard a bastard child born in a brothel. And yet, you were given so much. A name. A family. An empire.”

I had barely breathed. My knees locked, every part of me frozen.

She leaned forward, fingers drumming on the mahogany desk. “Do you even know who you are, child?”

I shook my head then, tears burning behind my eyes, trying to hold myself together. She didn't wait for my answer. She never did.

“You are the spawn of Aurelio Accardi,” she whispered, like a priest delivering a benediction.

“Born to a nameless whore in a back alley brothel. Gaspare bought you. Raised you like his own. But you—” she paused, her eyes flicking toward Serevin “—you were always a weapon. Your father’s last move against this family. ”

My legs nearly gave out.

I looked at Serevin, silently begging him to deny it. To fight for me. But he stood there—stone still. Eyes down. Silent.

“You knew,” I had whispered, barely audible. “You knew before we married.”

His silence was the answer. His silence was the knife.

Vittoria had smiled. “Do you see? You were never his wife, dear. You were his pawn. And now? Now you belong to us. Your routes. Your assets. Your name. All of it.”

She slid a folder toward me. Thick, official, stamped with signatures I didn’t recognize.

“While you were busy playing house, your loving husband here made several quiet amendments to your holdings. Your father’s estate belongs to him now. To us.”

I couldn’t breathe. The room had grown smaller, darker.

“But we are merciful,” she continued sweetly.

“You have two choices. You sign everything over formally, and I’ll deposit more money into your account than you could spend in ten lifetimes.

You leave quietly. Or…” Her smile sharpened like a blade.

“I reveal your little scandal to the council. And you, poor child, will have to stand before the Families and convince them you are fit to inherit anything. Do you think they will take you seriously? A bastard from a brothel? Or do you think they’ll follow the man who already holds your father’s empire in his pocket? ”

Emilia had been smirking then, smug and triumphant.

Cassian hadn’t moved. Serevin hadn’t flinched.

I had no allies.

I remember my voice breaking as I asked Vittoria one final question:

“Why now?”

Her answer still rings in my ears.

“Because you’ve outlived your usefulness.”

The memory slams into my chest so hard I can’t breathe.

I drop the diary onto the vanity table, my entire body shaking.

He used me.

Serevin. The man I—

I loved. I gave him everything. My name. My trust. My body.

He knew.

He knew it all and let me stand there like a fool, while his family stripped me bare.

I stumble away from the mirror, chest tightening, vision swimming with saltwater tears. My knees hit the floor hard, but I don’t feel it. The ache inside me burns far worse.

They all played me.

The man who was supposed to protect me was the sharpest blade pressed to my throat.

I squeeze my fists into my hair, curling into myself as waves of betrayal wash over me. It wasn’t just the lie. It was everything—the marriage, the silence, the gentle hands that touched me while hiding a dagger.

The love I thought I had—

It was never real.

The rage twists with the heartbreak, an unbearable knot in my chest.

No more.

I’m done being anyone’s pawn.

I wipe my tears, my breath shallow but growing steadier as a cold calmness settles into my bones.

I know who I am now.

And I will make them all pay.