I Was The Outsider Chapter 05

I Was The Outsider Chapter 05

I clutched the phone, my voice betraying nothing when I finally spoke.

Her voice cracked. *Say something! Where are you? Mama will send someone to get you.*

My tone was flat. *Don’t bother. I’m in Europe. I won’t be returning to the manor anytime soon.*

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, followed by a gasp of disbelief.

“What do you mean? You flew across the Atlantic by yourself? Are you insane? A young woman alone, without protection…”

I cut her off. *Mother, I’m not asking for your permission. I’m informing you.*

Her voice shot up. *Aurora Moretti!*

“You get back here right now! What is this behavior? Over one dinner? You’re making this scene over one dinner?”

I didn’t reply.

She must have thought I was softening, because her tone softened too.

“Alright, just come home. I’ll have the chef make you that risotto you loved as a child.”

“Enzo knows he was wrong, too. Just come home, and we can be a family again.”

The word “family” almost made me laugh.

“Mother, I have one question for you.”

“If it had been Enzo on the floor, his head bleeding, what would you have done?”

The line went silent.

“Would you have accused him of being petty? Would you have said he was embarrassing the family? Would you have forced him to kneel and apologize to the person who beat him?”

“Aurora, Enzo is…”

I closed my eyes. “You don’t have to answer. I already know. I’m hanging up.”

After the call, I blocked all the numbers she used, Enzo’s, the Consigliere’s, one by one.

For the next three days, I locked my phone in a drawer and threw myself into the group’s business.

I was already familiar with Jessy’s investment models, so I threw myself into the work. It was a natural fit.

She handled the front-end luxury supply chain, while I managed the back-end capital and brand operations. We worked together perfectly.

Sometimes in the conference room, Jessy would stare at the bandage on my forehead, her expression complicated. She knew those bruises were no accident.

But she was tactful enough to never probe old wounds. She would just wait until I was ready to talk.

On the morning of the fourth day, I turned on my phone.

My father called from an unknown number.

His voice sounded tired, a tone I’d rarely heard from him.

“Aurora, your mother hasn’t slept in days. Can’t you show a little understanding?”

There it was, the familiar script. I guessed he would tell me to be sensible next.

I replied, “Father, you know what? Understanding is a two-way street. Have any of you ever tried to understand me?”

His tone hardened immediately.

“What do you mean we haven’t? From the day you were born, you’ve been the Moretti Principessa. You’ve had the best of everything this world can offer. What more could you want?”

I let out a cold laugh. “Then let me ask you this: last year, on the anniversary of my own mother’s death—your first wife’s—where were you?”

That’s right. My birth mother was not the current Donna.

My birth mother was my father’s first wife, who was killed in a family feud when I was four.

The current Donna, my father’s second wife, had no children of her own. That was why she had been so taken with Bella from the moment she arrived.

“Before Bella came, you would at least go with me to the cemetery to leave a bouquet of white roses.”

“After that orphan arrived, on the anniversary of my mother’s death, the manor was throwing a huge party for her, buying her any gift she wanted.”

“The banquet hall was full of people fawning over her, and you even put my mother’s black pearl necklace on her with your own hands.”

“I sat in my usual place beside you, feeling like a stranger.”

My father’s breathing hitched.

“That day, I… I…”

I laughed, and my eyes stung.

“Father, you forgot the anniversary of my mother’s death, but you remembered which crocodile bag Bella wanted for the new season.”

“Aurora, it’s not what you think, just listen to me…”

I cut him off. “I saw it all very clearly. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“There’s no need to say anything more. We can drop the act now.”

“I don’t care anymore.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

“Aurora… I… we…”

I hung up.

On the fifth day after I left the manor, Bella posted a new update on that encrypted social platform, with two pictures attached.

One was of Enzo’s elbow, injured in the fight a few days ago, wrapped in a clean white bandage.

The other was a close-up of herself, her face streaked with tears.

The caption read: “Because of me, a family has fallen apart. Sister Aurora, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault.”

The people who followed Bella on that platform were all the influential young women of the underworld and their associates.

The comments section exploded.

“That arrogant princess actually ran away from home in a fit of jealousy over an innocent orphan.”

“She even fought over a horse. With a case of princess syndrome that bad, she’s lucky she wasn’t kicked out sooner.”

“It’s not your fault at all. Your sister is just too vicious.”

What was more terrifying was that her performance wasn’t limited to the internet.

Over the next few days, she accompanied the Donna to afternoon tea with the wives of several prominent families.

During the teas, she would “casually” let her eyes well up, then force herself not to let the tears fall.

She would only say, “My sister is actually a very good person. It was my fault for not being better.”

Her performance was flawless.

In less than a week, the entire underground social circle was buzzing with the rumor that the Moretti Principessa had run away from home, throwing her family into chaos, all out of jealousy for a homeless orphan.

The narrative was that the delicate princess was a spoiled, ill-mannered brat with “princess syndrome.”

Even a few families who had been at odds with the Morettis for generations were mocking them in private: “Don Giovanni can’t even control his own daughter, and he thinks he can run half the city?”