They Never Loved Me. Now I Don’t Remember Them. Chapter 03

Mom stood over me, furious.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Bianca told me what you were doing this afternoon. You’re Salvatore Rinaldi’s biological daughter, and you’re waiting tables in a restaurant?”

“What do you think people are going to say if someone from our family’s social circle sees you?”

“You’re humiliating this family on purpose!”

I held my burning cheek.

The taste of blood filled my mouth.

“But you told me you weren’t paying for college.”

“I have to earn the money myself.”

Dad’s expression darkened.

“You’re still talking back?”

He looked around the room at the family and household staff gathered nearby.

“Hold her.”

Before I could react, two men grabbed my arms and forced me down in front of everyone.

Dad slowly pulled off his leather belt.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“You want people to see you working some miserable job so they’ll feel sorry for you. So they’ll think we’re cruel and start asking why we don’t give you more.”

His voice turned cold.

“Forget it.”

The first strike landed across my back.

I cried out.

The household staff stood frozen around us, watching in silence.

Then another strike came.

And another.

Each blow echoed through the room as Dad beat me with his leather belt in front of the entire household.

By the time he finally stopped, my whole body was shaking, and blood had begun to seep through the back of my shirt.

No one stepped forward to help.

“Take her downstairs.”

The men dragged me toward the basement.

As they did, I looked up.

Bianca was standing in the shadows near the staircase.

She looked at my swollen face and smiled.

Then she slowly mouthed one word.

Bitch.

A moment later, she walked straight into Mom’s arms and started asking for tiramisu.

Mom immediately softened and told the household staff to bring her whatever she wanted.

The basement door shut behind me.

They left me there without food or water.

By the time they finally let me out the following night, I barely had the strength to climb the stairs.

I went back to my room and sat down at my desk.

Then I opened my memory journal and crossed out the second item.

I would have to find other summer employment.

Tears fell onto the page, blurring the ink.

I gave up trying to write and crawled into bed.

When I woke the next morning, my pillow was damp again.

I stared at the ceiling for a while.

I couldn’t remember why I’d cried.

A housemaid knocked urgently on my door.

“Miss Rinaldi, your mother wants you downstairs.”

When I reached the dining room, there was an unfamiliar man sitting at the table.

He kept staring at me.

I lowered my head and ate quietly.

Then he gave a cold laugh.

“Didn’t even bother putting ice on your face?”

“Who are you trying to make feel sorry for you now, Isabella?”

He leaned back in his chair.

“Give it up. We’re breaking off the engagement today.”

I looked up.

I genuinely had no idea who he was.

So I asked,

“Who are you?”

He froze.

Then his face darkened.

One of the household maids quietly reminded me,

“That’s Matteo De Santis, Miss Rinaldi. Your fiancé.”

Matteo looked furious.

He grabbed my arm before I had even finished breakfast and dragged me out to his car.

“You’re doing this again?”

“You know I hate this pathetic little act.”

He shoved me into the passenger seat and drove toward the De Santis estate.

“I really am sick,” I tried to explain.

Matteo let out a humorless laugh.

“Right. The progressive amnesia.”

“You seriously expect me to believe that?”

I opened my mouth.

But there was nothing else I could say.

He had already decided I was lying.

When we reached the De Santis estate, he took me inside and broke off the engagement in front of his mother.

Mrs. De Santis looked at me.

“Isabella, if you don’t want this, I can—”

I shook my head.

Then I repeated what I had written in my memory journal.

“I don’t want to love Matteo De Santis anymore.”

“So let’s end it.”

Mrs. De Santis fell silent.

Then she nodded.

I thought Matteo might finally be satisfied once the engagement was over.

He wasn’t.

His face remained dark the entire drive back to the Rinaldi house.

Matteo didn’t like me.

And I wanted to stay away from him too.

So the moment we arrived, I hurried upstairs.

But when I opened my bedroom door, I stopped.

The room had been torn apart.

My closet stood open.

My clothes and books were scattered across the floor.

My old ceramic coin bank shaped like a little house lay smashed beside the bed.

Bianca stood in the middle of the mess, holding the cash savings from my restaurant shifts.

“Mom and Dad never give you money.”

She looked at me.

“So where did all this come from?”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Isabella Rinaldi.”

“You’ve been stealing from us.”