𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐧.
ꙬꙬꙬꙬ
All that Yara Morello was told all her life was that she was the shame of the family. She was a mistake that was never supposed to happen, a disgrace to be shunned and cast...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I shiver, trying to hide the trembling cat behind my back as Nonna's voice echoes through the house, her fury palpable.
"I told you not to bring that flea-infested animal home!" Nonna screams at me, her eyes blazing with anger.
"I'm sorry, Nonna, please let me keep it," I plead, my voice shaking as I clutch the tiny cat closer to me.
"Stupida ragazza," she hisses, grabbing my arm with a vice-like grip and shoving me to the side. (Stupid girl)
The impact sends my head crashing against the wall, but I swallow the cry that bubbles up in my throat. Nonna hates tears, and if she sees me crying, she'll get even angrier. I don't want her to keep dinner away from me again, so I stay silent, watching helplessly as she snatches the cat by the scruff of its neck.
She turns to Marco, her expression cold and unyielding. "Get rid of this thing," she orders, shoving the terrified kitten into his arms.
My heart plummets into my stomach because I know what that means. Marco is going to kill the cat, and there's nothing I can do but stand there, paralyzed by fear, watching in horror.
"Why do you hate me so much, Nonna?" I whisper, my voice barely audible as the question escapes my lips. "You let Allegra keep her dog. I am family too."
Her response is swift and venomous, her words like a lash against my skin. She spews a string of curses in Italian, her face twisted with contempt. "Family doesn't come from home-wrecking puttanas."(whore)
The words cut deep, and I feel tears welling up, but I hold them back, clutching the necklace around my neck as if it could somehow shield me from her hatred. "Then what am I, Nonna?" I ask, my voice trembling.
In an instant, her hand flies to my face, her fingers digging painfully into my cheeks as she forces me to look at her. Her eyes bore into mine, filled with an emotion that makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
"You are an abomination," she spits out, each word laced with such disdain that it feels like a physical blow.
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to focus on the present and not the chaos swirling in my mind. It had been a week since that night since Miguel who I hadn't seen in over six months, suddenly resurfaced in Emilio's torture chamber, asking for my help to escape.
Emilio hadn't been around all week, and that absence had given me immense comfort, allowing me to stew in my thoughts without the suffocating presence of his icy demeanor. But just when I thought I could breathe a little easier, he suddenly reappeared, dragging me back to my personal hell because Papa wanted to have dinner with us to discuss more details of the wedding. Of course, "discuss" meant they would make all the decisions about my life while I sat there as a silent bystander.
As for Miguel, did I feel sorry for him? Absolutely. The man looked like he had been dragged to hell and back, barely clinging to life. But was I willing to risk my own neck to save his ass? That was an entirely different question, one I wasn't sure I had an answer to yet.
