Cristiano descended the stairs and came face to face with an all-too-familiar scene—one that had become a regular part of his mornings in this mansion. His mother stood there in a designer nightgown, her blond-and-gray-streaked hair loose and untamed, dark circles prominent under her eyes. Bitterness dripped continuously from her mouth as she hurled curses at her daughter for the simple crime of being born. Elena sat silently at the breakfast table with her head lowered, trying to swallow both her pride and her breakfast down her throat.
Liliana had two sons, while she had only one, and sometimes Soraya believed that was why Vittorio loved Liliana more and spent more time with her.
Cristiano remained indifferent to the chaos unfolding before him, walking past them without a glance—until
