Chapter 2
867words
On the screen, Olivia stood in an immaculate white lab coat, giving an interview. Behind her was the logo of Falcone Pharmaceutical Group.
"Dr. Ricci, you’re only twenty-eight, yet you’ve already published more than a dozen papers in top-tier medical journals. You’ve even been called the ‘Joan of Arc of the pharmaceutical world’. What’s your secret to success?" The host looked at her with open admiration.
Facing the camera, Olivia offered a modest smile, one clearly crafted by an expert PR team.
"There’s no secret," she said gently. "I’m just more persistent than most people. Medical research requires sacrifice. I often stay in the lab until four in the morning.
"But when I think about how these new drugs can ease patients’ suffering, everything feels worth it. This is the mission God gave me."
The host’s eyes reddened with emotion. "You’re truly America’s pride."
On the screen, Olivia’s saintly expression made me want to throw up.
Slowly, it overlapped with the memory of the woman who used to bare her fangs at me, who strutted around arrogantly, backed by the family’s power.
Dante had been right about one thing.
Olivia had become the family’s new golden child.
The so-called "evidence of academic fraud" I had exposed not only failed to destroy her. Instead, the family’s PR department repackaged it as "smear attacks by jealous rivals".
She was transformed into a warrior "bravely standing up to online harassment," a "true angel in white."
The Boston Globe and The New York Times ran feature after feature praising her perseverance in the face of malicious attacks, celebrating her devotion to science.
On the other hand, I was rewritten into the narrative as a gold-digging socialite consumed by jealousy, a mentally unstable madwoman.
The first time I discovered Dante’s affair had started with Olivia’s own provocation.
Three years ago, I came home from my lab at Harvard Medical School and found a black lace La Perla lingerie set tossed casually onto the Italian-import sofa in our living room. It wasn’t my size.
I confronted Dante on the spot.
He loosened his tie impatiently. "Olivia left it behind. She came over today to discuss a new drug formula. That was legitimate business. We worked late. Sofia, don’t act like some unsophisticated housewife. Olivia’s contributions to Falcone Pharmaceutical are contributions to the family. You know that."
I didn’t believe him.
So I started tracking his movements.
Then I discovered that they were frequently seen entering and leaving members-only elite clubs late at night. They even checked in and out of the presidential suite at the Four Seasons together.
Back then, I turned the entire Falcone family upside down.
During that time, all the socialite wives who did business with the family—the women living inside their own gilded cages—came to persuade me.
"Sofia, men are men. Especially men with Dante’s status. A little fun on the side is normal."
"As long as he comes home every night, as long as you’re still the legitimate Donna, you need to learn to look the other way."
"Dr. Ricci is one of us. Dante’s dealings with her are for the family’s business."
"Making a scene like this only makes you look like you don’t understand the rules."
Nonetheless, I hated him. I hated that Dante had betrayed the vows he swore before God.
Until the day TMZ and Page Six splashed photos of the two of them stumbling out of the Ritz-Carlton late at night, their clothes disheveled.
To protect Olivia’s reputation and to stabilize Falcone Pharmaceutical’s stock price on NASDAQ, Dante publicly admitted their relationship in a Forbes interview.
To the outside world, he claimed that he and I had been separated for two years and that our marriage had long existed in name only. He said Olivia was the soulmate he met during his "emotional hiatus".
It was a complete lie.
At the time, Twitter’s trending topics were flooded with praise for the fairy-tale love story between a pharmaceutical tycoon and a genius doctor. Netizens celebrated them as a power couple.
I lost my mind.
I stormed into Falcone Pharmaceutical’s headquarters and charged straight into the boardroom filled with the family’s senior leadership.
Dante was presiding over the board meeting. I burst in and hurled the coffee cup in my hand straight at him, in front of everyone.
Blood ran down from his temple. Even the mob elders—men who normally wouldn’t blink at killing—froze in shock.
Security rushed in to drag me away.
In the end, Dante finally tore off his gentleman’s mask. He shouted coldly, "Yes! I slept with her! And yes, I like her! If you can’t take it, then get out! The divorce papers are ready whenever you want to sign them, Sofia!"
The boardroom fell into a deathly silence.
I stared at this stranger and screamed back hysterically, "Why should I divorce you?! Why should I make it easy for you and that hypocritical bitch?!
"Dante, I want you and her to carry the stigma of adultery for the rest of your lives! You will never be forgiven in the eyes of God!"
