The Queen They Abandoned in the Shadows Chapter 03

The Queen They Abandoned in the Shadows Chapter 03

Matteo had never felt an ounce of guilt when he’d driven my mother to her death, leaving her to die with unfinished business. So why put on such a hollow, remorseful show at her grave now?

It had taken me ten years to find a donor for my mother. The catch was that I had to paint a portrait modeled after her likeness and win the global fine arts gold medal. The donor wanted her image enshrined in the halls of artistic immortality after she passed.

Even as father and son showed Bianca blatant favoritism that loomed over me like a storm cloud, nearly all my focus remained on saving my mother’s life.

I holed myself up in the studio for an entire month to finish that painting, surviving on four hours of sleep a night. When I came down with acute gastroenteritis, I refused to go to the hospital and just pushed through it.

That month, Matteo grew bolder. He openly brought Bianca to formal galas, and people started calling her Donna—a title that should have been mine.

I pushed through and submitted my painting just before the deadline. But when the awards ceremony ended, the piece on display was unmistakably mine—except the signature had been swapped for Bianca’s.

Staring at Bianca on stage accepting my trophy, I crumpled to the floor, sobbing hysterically. I grabbed every staff member who walked past, screaming.

“That painting is mine!”

Matteo grabbed my arm and pulled me aside.

He brushed the tangled hair from my forehead with what looked like tenderness, the way he used to in our intimate nights. His voice dropped to a soft murmur against my ear, but his words plunged me into an icy abyss.

“Elisa, can you let Bianca have this win? Just this once.”

I broke out in a cold sweat. My head was already pounding, and now everything blurred into a fog. My eyes stung, and a wave of nausea hit me so hard I thought I might be sick.

“Why?”

He let go, and I slumped to the floor.

“Bianca needs this win to make a name for herself. You’ve already got so many awards—what’s one more to you?”

“Everyone says she’ll never measure up to you. She’s fought so hard for every step. Please, Elisa. Be kind to her.”

I dug my nails into my palms, burning to shout that my own journey had been anything but easy. But the words died in my throat, and all I could do was beg.

“Matteo, please. This painting is the only thing keeping my mother alive. I’m begging you—don’t do this.”

He lowered his gaze, frozen in hesitation, and a flicker of hope sparked in my chest.

Then Bianca looped her arm through his, her voice soft and fragile.

“Elisa, I trusted you. Why would you do this? A painting is everything to an artist. How could you copy mine?”

The organizers who’d once admired my work hurled a shoddy canvas into my face. All my tears dried up the instant two clicks echoed as handcuffs snapped around my wrists.

“Officer, she’s the one who plagiarized.”

I stared at the poorly forged painting. I knew those brushstrokes—only Bianca, whom I’d tutored stroke by stroke, could have produced such clumsy work.

“Your work is sloppy, Elisa. Whose pieces did you copy to win all those awards?”

I shook my head in despair, tears streaming down my face.

“I didn’t steal anything. She copied me.”

Matteo was the only one who could clear my name. I dropped to my knees, clinging to his legs and begging him to speak for me.

“I’ll step down as Donna, I swear. Please, Matteo—this painting is my mother’s only hope.”

A flicker of remorse crossed his face, but Bianca’s tears erased it in an instant.

“I can testify that Elisa plagiarized the work.”

Noah stepped forward too, his tearful words branding me as a fraud.

“My Mama’s a thief. I don’t want her to be my Mama anymore.”

In an instant, father and son dragged me down from my pedestal, branding me a despicable plagiarist.

A wave of nausea surged up my throat, and I coughed up blood. Matteo’s face went pale, moving to lift me, but Bianca’s taunting grin stripped away the last shred of my self-control. I shrieked and lunged at her, wrapping my hands around her neck, ready to drag her down with me.

A brutal kick sent me flying. Matteo pulled a knife, pinned me to the ground, and sliced off two of my fingers with his own hands. I screamed silently, my hand going numb from the agony.

He tossed me aside like a stray dog, dropped the blade, and said coldly, “That’s what you get for hurting Bianca.”

I was loaded into a patrol car in a catatonic daze. Charges of aggravated assault and tax evasion landed me a two-year sentence.

The very next day, news came of my mother’s death. Matteo had cut off her medical funding, leaving her to die in agony at home. Numb beyond feeling, I signed the divorce papers he sent to me in prison.

Matteo seized my mangled hand, a single tear rolling down his cheek. His voice cracked as he pressed his lips to my stumps.

“I’m so sorry, Elisa. What I did to you… I can’t imagine what you went through.”

“Please. Let me try to make it right.”

I pulled my hand free, my emotions settling back into cold detachment.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

I turned and started walking toward my house, letting them follow if they wanted.

Passing a street cart, I bought a stick of cotton candy.

Glancing back, I saw Noah staring longingly at it. He stepped forward shyly and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Mama, you got this for me, didn’t you? You still love me… right?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but a sharp little voice cut me off. Instinctively, I caught the little girl who came flying into my arms.

Quinn frowned and pointed at Noah.

“Mama, who’s that? Why’s he trying to take my cotton candy?”