Chapter 4
1158words
By the time I return to the dining room, they've already started eating. Jessica sits to my right—the position reserved for honored family guests.
"Irina, you look pale," Isabella says while slicing her lamb, her tone concerned but her eyes glacial. "Are you feeling ill?"
"Just a headache." I take my seat, noticing Jessica's dress seems shorter than before—she's deliberately hiked up the hem.
"Jessica was just admiring your taste in jewelry," Isabella continues. "She says you always accessorize beautifully."
"Really?" I glance at Jessica, who's pushing asparagus around her plate, a smirk playing at her lips.
"Of course," Jessica looks up, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Though today Mrs. Moretti seems to have forgotten something important."
The topic circles back to that damn ring. I'm about to explain when something brushes against my calf under the table.
I look down and nearly choke on my wine.
Jessica has slipped off one heel, her bare foot sliding up my calf, while her other foot is across the table—between Alessandro's legs.
I look up at Alessandro. A flush crosses his face before he quickly composes himself. What's more sickening is that he doesn't move away.
"Alessandro," Isabella calls from the head of the table, "should we host a charity auction at Christmas? Jessica suggested we auction some artwork."
"Good idea," Alessandro's voice sounds strained, though he tries to maintain composure. "Jessica has excellent taste in art."
Under the table, Jessica grows bolder. I watch her calmly cutting her beef, as if she isn't playing footsie with both of us simultaneously.
Nausea churns in my stomach—not from the food, but from watching this disgusting betrayal play out so brazenly before my eyes.
"Excuse me," I stand abruptly, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I need some air."
No one stops me. As I leave, I hear Jessica's defiant laughter and Isabella's hushed admonishment behind me.
The garden air feels just as suffocating. I follow the stone path toward the glass greenhouse where Isabella grows her prized orchids. Maybe there I can find a moment's peace.
But as I approach, I hear voices from inside.
"Are you insane? Doing this in front of my mother—"
"Did you like it?" Jessica's voice is sweet and teasing. "From what I felt earlier, you definitely enjoyed it."
"Jess, we agreed to keep our distance—"
"Distance? Then why are you hard right now?"
I freeze. Through the glass walls, I witness a scene that will be burned into my memory forever.
Alessandro has Jessica pressed against the glass wall, one hand braced beside her head, the other gripping her waist. Her legs are wrapped around him, dress hiked up to her waist.
"We shouldn't be doing this here—" Alessandro's voice is ragged.
"Your mouth says no, but your body's telling the truth," Jessica purrs, unbuttoning his shirt. "Besides, no one ever comes here."
Blood pounds in my ears. So this is my husband's "work meeting"—his true face when he's not lying to mine.
"Alessandro!"
Isabella's voice cracks like thunder. I duck behind a nearby rose bush, holding my breath.
The sounds of frantic clothing adjustment echo from the greenhouse. Through the roses, I watch Isabella glide toward the structure, her face showing neither surprise nor anger.
"Mother, we were just—" Alessandro straightens his rumpled shirt, his face a mask of panic.
"Just what?" Isabella enters the greenhouse, her tone frighteningly calm. "Just defiling my orchid greenhouse?"
I expect fury, scolding—anything a normal mother-in-law would do.
But she doesn't.
"However," Isabella continues with a hint of mockery, "Alessandro, you're being inconsiderate. How awkward for Jessica to be left alone in the dining room."
What?
"Madam, I—" Jessica begins, her voice perfectly modulated to sound shy.
"Call me Isabella, dear," she gently interrupts. "I've known about you and Alessandro for quite some time."
My world shatters completely.
Isabella doesn't just know about the affair—she's encouraging it. More terrifying is the satisfaction in her tone, as if this is exactly what she wanted.
"Mother—" Alessandro's voice carries a tangle of emotions.
"What, mother? Do you think I'm blind?" Isabella sneers. "From the moment Jessica first appeared in our house, I knew exactly what she wanted."
"Then why did you—"
"Why did I allow it?" A flash of cruelty gleams in Isabella's eyes. "Because some people need to learn their place. Irina is too proud—she needs to understand who truly rules this family."
I hear my heart shatter. This was all a trap, designed to humiliate me, to break me.
"Now, compose yourselves," Isabella turns to leave. "Don't keep our guests waiting too long. Alessandro, remember—moderate neglect is often more effective than excessive attention."
She leaves, the two in the greenhouse staring at each other in bewilderment.
I crouch among the roses, the world spinning around me. Mother-in-law knows everything—she's not just aware of the betrayal, she's orchestrating it.
Just as I'm about to slip away, Little Marco's voice sounds behind me:
"Aunt Irina? What are you doing here?"
I turn to see Little Marco standing a few steps away, his eyes no longer holding their usual warmth, replaced by an unfamiliar hostility.
"Marco," I force a smile, "Auntie was just admiring the flowers."
"Aunt Jessie says you're a bad woman," Marco announces loudly. "She says you stole her place!"
"Marco, don't say such things—"
"Go away!" Little Marco suddenly charges forward and shoves me hard. "Go away! Aunt Jessie says you make Uncle sad!"
Caught off guard, I lose my balance and crash against the marble planter behind me. The sharp edge slices across my arm, tearing through silk and skin. Blood immediately wells up.
Pain shoots through me like lightning, but somehow this physical agony brings a strange relief. At least this pain is real.
"Irina!" Alessandro rushes over. "What happened?"
"Uncle, don't help the bad lady!" Little Marco cries, clinging to Alessandro's leg. "Aunt Jessie said she'll get us all killed!"
Alessandro glances at his sobbing nephew, irritation flashing in his eyes.
He roughly pushes Marco aside and strides toward me.
"Marco, shut up!" His voice is ice-cold. "Go to your room. Now."
But he's too late.
That moment of hesitation shatters the last defenses around my heart.
"I don't want your nephew anymore!" I scream through tears, my voice raw with pain. "And I don't want you either!"
A deathly silence falls over the garden, broken only by my ragged sobs in the evening air.
That scream drains my last reserves of strength.
The wound on my arm continues bleeding, my dress already soaked crimson.
Violent dizziness overtakes me, the world spinning before my eyes.
Alessandro's face blurs, Marco's cries fade to distant echoes.
My knees buckle beneath me.
"Irina!"
I hear Alessandro's shout, but it's already miles away.
Then darkness claims me completely.
