Chapter 4: Looking Down From The Top
1263 Words
Valentina couldn’t bring herself to leave her room for two days.
The first half of the first day had been drowned in tears — heavy, unrelenting sobs that left her eyes swollen and her throat raw. But by the time the second day dawned, the tears had dried into something colder,a cold resolve.
She wasn’t someone who accepted defeat easily. Never had been. And she wasn’t about to start now.
Her mind turned like a wheel, replaying every memory, every interaction, every crack in her family’s perfect façade. The more she thought, the clearer it became: she wasn’t going to let them have their way,not her family or that entitled don.
In those two long days, only one person had come to her door — Mama Gloria.
The older woman’s gentle knocks were always followed by the soft clink of a food tray, a few whispered words, and eyes full of the love Valentina never found anywhere else in that mansion.
The others?
Nothing. Not even a single visit from her mother.
She had spent years wondering if she truly belonged in this family — if perhaps she’d been adopted and no one ever told her. Their coldness often made her question it, but one thing reminded her otherwise: she looked too much like them. And once, years ago, she had even saved Maria’s life with her blood.
That memory was proof enough.
She was theirs.
They just didn’t care.
Now, standing at the top of the grand staircase, she stared down at the house below. The once silent halls that had felt like a tomb for two days were suddenly alive again —new servants moving around and the obvious absence of the previous gloom.
Her brow furrowed. “Mama Gloria,” she said softly, her voice steady but curious. “What’s happening?”
Gloria, who had been standing quietly at her side, exhaled slowly — the sigh of someone burdened with too many secrets and too little comfort to give.
“While you were indoors,” she began, her voice low, “your family finalized the agreement with Don Lucian.”
The words struck like a whip. Valentina’s breath hitched, her heart lurching painfully in her chest. “Lucian… I mean, Don Lucian was here?”
Gloria shook her head gently and took Valentina’s trembling hands in her own. “No, bambina mia. Not him. His men came — they brought documents. Papers that needed signatures.”
Valentina’s expression hardened instantly. Her jaw clenched as anger cut through the fog of sadness that had clouded her for days.
She looked down again at the laughter echoing from below — her family’s voices bright with sudden joy.
“From the look of things,” she murmured bitterly, “some benefits have already arrived. And when I leave…” Her lips curved in a humorless smile. “The others will follow.”
Mama Gloria lowered her eyes, saying nothing — because there was nothing left to say.
Valentina didn’t hesitate. That burning fury — the one that had been simmering quietly beneath her grief — became her strength. Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin and began her descent down the marble stairs.
Each step echoed through the hall, crisp and deliberate, slicing through the laughter below. Heads turned. Her mother’s smile faltered. Her father’s hand, which had just raised a glass, paused midair.
But Valentina didn’t spare them a single glance.
Her expression carved in icy calm , though every breath she took felt like fire.
“Valentina,” her father called, with a firm voice, but she didn’t answer.
She kept walking, past the long dining table now covered with expensive wine and trays of fruit — the signs of celebration that made her stomach twist.
A familiar voice cut through the silence.
“Where are you going?”
Maria.
Valentina stopped right in front of her. For a long moment, the two sisters just stared at each other — one cold, the other quietly burning.
Maria’s manicured fingers shot out, gripping Valentina’s arm. “Don’t do something stupid, Valentina.”
She scoffed in mockery. This was the longest her sister had ever spoken to her at once.
Valentina’s gaze dropped to where Maria’s hand held her, then trailed slowly up to meet her sister’s eyes. Without a word, she peeled Maria’s fingers off — one by one — and pushed her hand aside with chilling calm.
Maria blinked, caught off guard. “Hey—”
“Let her be,” their father’s voice broke in, cold and dismissive. “If she wants to act out, let her.”
That was all Valentina needed to hear.
She walked past them without another word.
The front doors opened, and the bright sunlight poured in — harsh and blinding, but oddly freeing. The ride she’d ordered was already waiting a few steps outside the gate, the black car gleaming in the afternoon light.
The guard opened the gate, recognizing her immediately. Valentina adjusted the brim of her cap low over her face and stepped in without hesitation.
“Where to, miss?” the driver asked politely.
“Banco di Firenze,” she murmured.
The car hummed to life, pulling away from the villa that had ceased being her home long ago. As the gates shut behind her, Valentina finally exhaled — a deep, shaky breath that tasted like freedom.
She’d always known her parents never fully supported her dreams of becoming an actress. They said it was a “phase,” a childish fancy. But they didn’t know she’d been saving — slowly, quietly — from small acting gigs, modeling events, and money she'd be removing from her allowance little by little to avoid alerting them. She’d built her own safety net, just in case they ever tried to use money to cage her.
She just never thought it would be marriage instead.
The cab stopped in front of the grand marble building of Banco di Firenze. Valentina stepped out, clutching a small black bag tightly — the one holding her savings.
Inside, the air was cool and crisp. She approached the counter with her usual calm, though her pulse raced beneath her skin.
“Buongiorno,” she greeted softly. “I’d like to make a deposit.”
The teller smiled and began the formalities, asking for her name. Valentina hesitated only briefly before slipping out a sleek, laminated card from her purse — a fake ID she’d gotten months ago,who knew she'd need it this soon.
“Elena Rossi,” she said smoothly.
The teller nodded, processed the details, and took the bag of cash without question. The sound of the bills being counted was oddly satisfying ,like the rhythm of her independence.
When it was done, Valentina left the bank, her cap still low, her stride light. She had just reached the curb when her phone chimed with a message.
It was from her father.
“If you try to run away, remember from whom you're running,he has eyes everywhere and one more thing.. Gloria is here ".
Her steps froze. The words blurred for a moment as a wave of disgust and disbelief swept through her. She didn't care that she could be monitored this very moment ,all she wanted was her freedom and she'd do anything for it.
Slipping her phone into her palm, she scrolled down her contacts list and pressed one number. It was time to commence plan B.
As the line rang, she tilted her head slightly, her tone calm but deliberate.
“Hello, Marco.”
- Writer
