Chapter 3

"Let this be a warning to the younger ones in this family."

One of my aunts pointed at me as if I were something filthy dragged in from the street.

"Stay away from women who live like Glenda Moretti. Once you lose your dignity, you lose everything."

Several relatives nodded along.

Before I could answer, Mom came toward me.

Her palm struck my face.

The slap landed across the same cheek Dad had already hit.

My head turned sharply to the side.

"What have I taught you since you were a child?" she demanded. "A woman should have self-respect. She should know her worth."

Her eyes were full of shame.

"How could you let yourself become some man's bedmate?"

I stared at her.

She said it as though the accusation had already become fact.

Eric gave a low laugh.

"Bedmate?"

He leaned against the dining table, enjoying every second of this.

"If you ask me, this fake Mr. Sanchez probably isn't the only one."

My stomach twisted.

Eric continued, "You people don't understand how these private clubs work. A girl like Princess Number Thirty-Six doesn't survive on one customer."

His eyes settled on me.

"Men pay for company. For drinks. For private rooms. And sometimes for more."

Then he smiled.

"Just out of curiosity, Glenda, how much do you charge for one night?"

The question was deliberately obscene.

The reaction was immediate.

Laughter exploded across the room.

My face burned.

Anne slapped Eric lightly on the chest and pretended to pout.

"Why are you asking my sister about her rates?"

Her tone turned teasing.

"Thinking of booking her yourself?"

Eric wrapped an arm around her waist in front of everyone.

"Never."

He pulled her closer.

"You're the only troublemaker I need."

Anne giggled and leaned against him.

The performance made something turn in my stomach.

I gagged and covered my mouth.

Anne's smile sharpened.

"Oh?"

She looked me up and down.

"Don't tell me you're pregnant too."

Another wave of laughter followed.

Pain throbbed across my back where Dad had struck me.

Something inside me finally snapped.

I reached out, ripped the wooden cane from Dad's hand, and threw it across the room.

It struck the wall with a loud crack.

"Enough!"

The room fell silent.

I looked at my father.

"You were hitting me like you wanted to kill me."

My voice trembled, but I didn't lower it.

"Did you forget what happens if I actually die in this house?"

His expression changed.

"You may be one of the Moretti family's legal advisers behind closed doors, but to the rest of Kingsbury, you're Professor Laurence Moretti."

I pointed at him.

"If your own daughter ends up beaten to death at Christmas dinner, do you think your university position survives? Do you think the police will care about your reputation?"

Dad's hand slowly dropped to his side.

For the first time that night, he didn't hit me again.

But there was no regret in his eyes.

Only disgust.

All of it directed at me.

I turned toward Eric.

His smug face made my blood run cold.

"Keep talking."

He frowned.

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth.

"Save every accusation for the police."

The room went quiet again.

I looked around at every relative who had laughed, insulted me, and called me a prostitute without a shred of evidence.

"And one more thing."

I raised my phone.

"I recorded everything."

Several faces changed instantly.

"The insults. The accusations. The threats. Eric trying to photograph me after Anne exposed my neck."

I smiled without humor.

"So when the police decide whether this qualifies as harassment, defamation, assault, or unlawful recording, you can explain yourselves to them."

A cousin went pale.

One of my aunts stopped smiling.

I continued, "And if any of you actually end up facing charges, don't come begging me to withdraw anything."

The room transformed in seconds.

"Glenda, don't say things like that."

An aunt who had been mocking me moments earlier hurried forward.

"We're family. We were only worried about you."

Another relative immediately added, "Exactly. We were trying to stop you from making mistakes."

Someone else turned on Eric.

"This all started because of him anyway."

"Does he even have proof that girl in the video is Glenda?"

"Don't drag the rest of us into your personal problem."

Eric's face darkened.

I unlocked my phone.

"I'm calling the police."

Before I could finish dialing, Eric lunged forward and snatched the phone out of my hand.

He ended the call.

"What are you doing?" I shouted.

He held the phone away from me.

"Calling the police during the holidays?"

He shook his head.

"Do you have any idea how unlucky that is? You want the whole family starting the year with cops at the door?"

Anne immediately burst into tears.

"No."

Everyone looked at her.

She wiped at her eyes.

"I can't have bad luck right now."

Her voice cracked dramatically.

"This is my third IELTS attempt. I have to pass this time. If I don't, I won't be able to study abroad."

Study abroad.

Those two words hit harder than my father's cane.

I slowly turned toward my parents.

Mom's face tightened.

Dad avoided my eyes.

A terrible suspicion began to form.

"Dad?"

He sighed.

"You already know what our finances are like."

I said nothing.

He continued, "Even with the family's businesses, not all of that money belongs to us personally. Between you and Anne, we could only afford to send one daughter overseas."

For a moment, I couldn't speak.

My throat felt blocked.

"But I already got in."

Dad frowned.

"What?"

"Three years ago."

My voice came out hoarse.

"I was accepted by Imperial College London."

The room became quieter.

"I had the admission letter."

I looked at my mother.

"You told me not to go."

She looked away.

"You said London was too far. You said it wasn't safe for a young woman from our family to live alone overseas."

My eyes burned.

"And then Dad told me there were problems with the family accounts. He said some of the Moretti businesses were under investigation and money was tight."

I gave a broken laugh.

"You told me you couldn't afford the tuition."

Neither of them answered.

I felt something inside me collapse.

"I gave it up."

My voice cracked.

"I spent months preparing that application. I got into one of the best universities in the world, and I gave it up because you told me the family needed me here."

I stared at them.

"It nearly destroyed me."

My hands began to shake.

"But I stayed."

I pointed toward Anne.

"And now you're planning to send her overseas?"

Anne froze.

"She hasn't even passed the IELTS."

No one spoke.

That silence was answer enough.

Anne quickly stepped forward.

Her expression became soft and guilty.

"I'm sorry, sis."

I looked at her.

"When you got into Imperial, I was jealous."

She lowered her eyes.

"I told Mom and Dad that I wanted to study abroad too."

My chest tightened.

Anne continued, "I never thought they'd actually convince you not to go."

She gave a small, helpless shrug.

"Maybe they just thought you'd be successful anywhere."

Her eyes lifted to mine.

"You're the talented one, after all."

Then the corner of her mouth curved.

"I mean, apparently you even managed to become successful at a private club."

My jaw clenched.

She kept going.

"You found yourself a fake Jarvis Sanchez and everything."

The slap left my hand before I even realized I'd moved.

The sound cracked through the dining room.

Anne's head snapped sideways.

For one second, everyone froze.

Then Mom screamed.

"Glenda!"

She rushed forward and pulled Anne into her arms.

"She's your sister!"

Anne immediately buried her face against Mom's shoulder and started crying.

"How dare you hit her?"

Mom glared at me as though I were a stranger.

"Giving up London was our decision."

She pointed at herself and Dad.

"Mine and your father's."

"It had nothing to do with Anne."

I stared at her.

That somehow made it worse.

Dad stepped forward.

His hand struck my face.

Hard.

My vision blurred again.

"Your mother is right."

His voice was full of anger.

"And after what I've seen tonight, I'm more convinced than ever that stopping you from going abroad was the correct decision."

I froze.

Dad looked at me with open contempt.

"Your character is rotten."

Each word landed slowly.

"You're reckless. Disrespectful. Completely out of control."

He gestured toward the room.

"Wherever you go, you create trouble."

My chest tightened so painfully I could barely breathe.

"So whether it was London, Kingsbury, or anywhere else, it wouldn't have mattered."

His expression hardened.

"You would still have become a disaster."

Something inside me finally broke.

I had survived the insults.

The accusations.

The beating.

Even hearing my own mother call me some man's bedmate.

But those words from my father shattered the last thing I had been holding onto.

The tears I'd fought all night spilled over.

Once they started, I couldn't stop them.

They ran down my face as I stood in the middle of the Moretti dining room, surrounded by the family I had spent my entire life trying not to disappoint.