Chapter 4

I crouched down and began gathering the scattered diamonds.

The platinum band had bent out of shape, and one of its broken edges cut into my finger. Blood stained the handkerchief I used to wrap the pieces, but I kept searching until I'd found every stone I could see.

Behind me, Fiorella was sobbing.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to drop it. Lavi came toward me so suddenly, and I got scared."

Mother immediately pulled her into her arms.

"It's all right, sweetheart. You didn't do anything wrong."

Then she turned toward me.

"Look what you've done, Lavinia! If you hadn't frightened your sister, the crown wouldn't be broken!"

I looked up. "I didn't even touch her."

"Then why would she drop it?"

"You were standing right there. You saw what happened."

Mother's expression hardened. "Are you calling your sister a liar?"

Before I could answer, Adrian stepped forward and handed Fiorella a tissue.

"Don't cry. It's only a crown. We can have it repaired."

Only a crown.

I looked down at the twisted platinum in my hands.

That was all it meant to him.

The commotion brought Father and Marco into the dressing room. Mother quickly explained what had happened, making sure to mention how I'd frightened Fiorella.

Father took one look at my sister's tearstained face.

"Lavinia, apologize."

I stared at him. "For what?"

"For upsetting your sister over a piece of jewelry."

"She dropped something that belonged to me."

Marco scoffed. "So get it fixed. Why do you always make such a big deal out of everything?"

Fiorella wiped her eyes. "Please don't blame Lavi. It's my fault for borrowing her crown. I should've known she'd be upset."

Mother stroked her hair. "You've done nothing wrong, darling."

Adrian looked at me. "Lavinia, just say you're sorry. Fiorella's already had a difficult few days."

I slowly stood, clutching the handkerchief.

No one had asked whether I was hurt. No one had noticed the blood on my fingers.

Maybe they had. Maybe it simply didn't matter.

Once, I would have tried to explain every detail. I would have argued until someone finally admitted I'd done nothing wrong.

But I was tired of defending myself to people who had already decided not to believe me.

"I'm leaving," I said.

Mother frowned. "Where?"

"Back to my hotel."

"So you're running away because we asked you to apologize?"

I walked toward the door.

Her voice rose behind me.

"Fine! Go! But don't expect us to welcome you back when you realize how hard life is without your family!"

I didn't turn around.

She didn't know I had already decided never to come back.

At the hotel, I placed the broken crown inside its velvet case and wrapped it carefully in a sweater.

My flight to London was scheduled for the following morning. The Bellandi Institute had confirmed my accommodation, and I was due to report for work the day after I arrived.

I checked my passport and employment documents, then closed my suitcase.

Just after midnight, Adrian sent me a message.

Fiorella cried all evening. Are you happy now?

I stared at the screen.

He'd witnessed everything. He knew I hadn't touched her. Yet somehow, her tears were still my responsibility.

I began typing a reply, then stopped.

What was the point?

Another message appeared.

Your mother says you're refusing to come home. Lavinia, stop being stubborn. Just apologize and we can put this behind us.

I looked at the engagement ring on my finger.

Three years ago, Adrian had slipped it onto my hand and promised that whatever happened, he would always stand beside me.

I had believed him.

Now he stood beside Fiorella, even when I was the one who had been wronged.

I removed the ring and placed it in an envelope addressed to Adrian Moretti. The hotel concierge agreed to have it delivered to his residence.

Then I blocked his number.

Father. Mother. Marco. Fiorella.

One by one, I blocked them all.

I switched off the bedside lamp and lay down.

For once, I didn't have to listen for footsteps outside my door or wonder who would come demanding another favor.

I slept better than I had in months.

The next morning, I checked out before sunrise.

At the airport, the damaged wheel of my old suitcase caught against the edge of the baggage scale. I struggled with it until an older woman behind me offered to help.

"Here, sweetheart. Let me get that."

"Thank you."

Together, we lifted the suitcase onto the scale.

"Traveling alone?" she asked.

I nodded.

"London?"

"Yes. I'm moving there for work."

"How exciting! Did your family come to see you off?"

I thought about Mother's warning, Father's anger, and Adrian's messages.

Then I smiled.

"They have someone more important to take care of."

The woman didn't ask anything else.

After passing through security, I found a seat near my departure gate.

I had imagined this moment for the past three days, but now that it had finally arrived, I felt strangely calm.

No one knew where I was going.

No one had come looking for me.

When boarding was announced, I opened my carry-on and checked that the velvet case was still there.

I ran my thumb over its worn surface.

Only then did my eyes fill with tears.

Not because I wanted to go home.

I was crying for the girl who had spent years believing that if she worked harder, behaved better, and asked for less, her family might finally love her the way they loved Fiorella.

That girl had waited long enough.

I wiped my face, picked up my bag, and joined the boarding line.

New York was behind me.

For the first time, my future belonged to me.

And I wasn't going back.