Addicted to Captive Love The Mafia Godfather’s Substitute Heiress Chapter 06

Addicted to Captive Love The Mafia Godfather’s Substitute Heiress Chapter 06

Celandine’s POV

I froze where I stood.

I pressed my back against the wall.

My heart hurt as if a knife had been driven into it and twisted again and again.

After a moment of silence, Madre said, “You’re right.”

“When we first found out, we should have acted decisively.”

“Leaving things like this isn’t good for anyone.”

“At tomorrow’s ball, let’s make everything clear.”

The dining room went quiet for a few seconds.

Then came the crisp sound of a teacup being set onto a tray.

Papa said, “Fine. We’ll make it clear to her in front of everyone.”

I turned around and slowly went back to my room.

On the stairs, I stumbled and nearly fell.

My fingers dug hard into the smooth wooden banister, barely steadying me, while my heart hammered wildly inside my chest.

When I returned to my room, I closed the door.

With my back against it, I slowly slid down and collapsed onto the carpet.

I curled in on myself, and the tears finally fell.

I buried my face deeper and bit down on my lower lip.

It felt as if a wad of waterlogged cotton were lodged in my throat, heavy and suffocating, impossible to swallow and impossible to spit out.

At last, I could not hold it in anymore.

I buried my head in my arms and cried until I broke.

Thierry did not want me. Papa and Madre did not want me either.

No one wanted me.

There was no place for me in this home or under this name.

The world was so big, but where could I possibly go?

I cried all night.

When I woke up at noon the next day, sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, painfully bright.

Dazed, I got out of bed like a body with its soul hollowed out, then went to the bathroom and washed my face.

When I looked up at myself in the mirror, my eyes were swollen into narrow slits, and the tip of my nose was red.

I stared at my reflection.

Celandine, you look hideous.

I splashed cold water on my face again, trying to clear my head.

After standing there in a daze for a while, I went back to my room and dragged a suitcase out of the closet.

I had figured it out.

There was no point clinging to this place and making everyone resent me.

The daughter raised by mistake was always the extra one.

Rather than lose every last shred of dignity at tomorrow’s ball, I might as well leave on my own.

The Wynns had found their true Principessa, and Thierry would no longer have to see his disgusting not-quite-sister again.

I did not take much, only the clothes I wore most often.

Then I picked up the photograph from my desk.

In the picture, Madre stood on the left, Papa stood on the right, Jovan crouched in front making a face, and Casimir stood at the edge with his arms crossed and the faintest curve at his mouth.

I had my arms around Thierry’s neck, hanging off him as I grinned stupidly at the camera.

I turned the photograph over.

On the back, in Madre’s handwriting, were the words: [Celandine, sixteen years old, with the whole family.]

My fingertips rubbed over that line again and again, the cold surface sending a chill through my skin.

Carefully, I rolled up the photograph and tucked it into the innermost pocket of my backpack.

I unlocked my phone and went through the motions mechanically, booking the earliest flight to Sicily.

Finally, I opened my chat with Casimir and typed a scheduled message, setting it to send three hours later.

Celandine: [Thierry is in the basement of the Long Island safe house. The key is in the velvet box inside my desk drawer.]

After I finished typing, I dragged my suitcase out the front door.

The rain had stopped, and the water droplets on the lawn glittered in the sunlight, but I knew they would soon evaporate completely.

I stood on the steps and looked back at the estate where I had lived for more than twenty years.

The rosebushes in the garden were in bloom, rich with fragrance.

But none of it belonged to me in the end.

Just like Thierry and my family.