CHAPTER 2
1490 Words
CARLOTTA’S POV
The suitcase hit the marble floor with a cruel thud, scattering my few belongings across the funeral parlor's polished surface. Elena's lips twisted into a satisfied smirk as she looked down at me.
"There," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Everything you own. Which isn't much, considering you're nothing but a parasite."
I stared at the scattered clothes, my mind still foggy from the funeral. "What... what is this? Why are you—"
"Throwing you out?" Dante's uncle Marco stepped forward, his face twisted with disgust. "Because you're a curse, girl. A walking plague."
"You killed him," Elena hissed, pointing an accusing finger at me. "Our Dante was fine until you came along with your bad luck. You ate your husband alive with your evil omega energy."
My heart pounded against my ribs. This couldn't be happening. Not now, not when I was finally free. "That's not true. I didn't—"
"Silence!" Marco's voice boomed through the parlor. "We don't want to hear your lies. You've brought nothing but misfortune to this family."
"But the house—" I started, desperation creeping into my voice. "Where am I supposed to go?"
"Anywhere but here," Elena sneered. "The streets, for all we care. You're not family, you never were. You were just something Dante bought, and now that he's dead, we don't owe you anything."
My legs felt weak as the reality hit me. They were really doing this. After two years of hell, they were casting me out with nothing.
"Please," I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded. "I have nowhere to go."
"Should have thought of that before you cursed our boy," Marco growled. He grabbed my arm roughly, his fingers digging into my skin. "Come on. Time to go."
"No, wait—" I struggled against his grip, but he was too strong. "My things—"
"Already packed," Elena said coldly. "Everything you deserve."
They dragged me toward the door, my feet barely touching the ground. The other funeral guests watched in stunned silence, some whispering behind their hands. The humiliation burned hotter than any physical pain Dante had ever inflicted.
"Please," I tried one more time as Marco shoved me toward the exit. "I'll work. I'll pay rent. Just don't—"
"Out!" Elena screamed, her face red with rage. "Get out and never come back, you cursed witch!"
The heavy doors slammed shut behind me, leaving me standing on the stone steps with my single suitcase. The cool evening air hit my face, mixing with the tears I couldn't hold back anymore.
I stood there for what felt like hours, my mind blank with shock. Where could I go? What could I do? For two years, I'd been trapped in Dante's world, isolated from everyone and everything I'd once known.
Mother. The thought hit me like lightning. My mother—she might still be alive. Dante had used her as leverage to keep me in line, but he'd never told me where she was or what had happened to her after I was taken.
I picked up my suitcase and started walking, my feet carrying me toward the old neighborhood where we used to live. The streets looked different now, more run-down than I remembered. Many of the old shops were boarded up, and unfamiliar faces peered at me from doorways.
"Excuse me," I approached an elderly man sitting on a bench. "Do you know what happened to Maria Russo? She used to live on Elm Street?"
He looked at me suspiciously. "Who's asking?"
"I'm her daughter," I said quietly. "Carlotta."
His expression softened. "Ah, little Carlotta. Your mama, she moved away about a year ago. Got herself a job as a maid for some rich family. Blackwood, I think the name was."
My heart leaped. She was alive. She was working. "Do you know where?"
"Blackwood Mansion, up on the hill district. But she don't live there," he added quickly. "Got herself a little apartment near the market. Building with the blue door, apartment 3B."
I thanked him and hurried toward the market district, my suitcase bumping against my legs with every step. The apartment building was small and shabby, but it looked clean. I climbed the narrow stairs, my heart pounding as I reached apartment 3B.
I knocked softly, barely breathing as I waited.
The door opened, and there she was. My mother, looking older and thinner than I remembered, her dark hair streaked with gray. Her eyes widened when she saw me.
"Carlotta?" she whispered, as if she couldn't believe it.
"Mama," I choked out, and then I was in her arms, sobbing against her shoulder like a little girl again.
"Oh, my baby, my sweet baby," she cried, holding me tight. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry I couldn't save you. I should have found a way, should have protected you—"
"It's okay, Mama," I said, though my voice was muffled against her shoulder. "It's not your fault. It was just... bad luck."
She pulled me inside and shut the door, her hands trembling as she touched my face. "When I heard about Dante's accident, I wanted to come to you, but I didn't know if they would let me see you. I didn't know if you'd want to see me after... after I failed you."
"Don't say that," I whispered. "You didn't fail me. Papa made his choice. You couldn't have stopped him."
She led me to a small couch in the tiny living room. The apartment was barely bigger than a closet, but it was clean and warm, and it smelled like the lavender soap she'd always used.
"Tell me what happened," she said gently. "At the funeral, I mean. Why are you here with a suitcase?"
I told her about Elena and Marco, about being thrown out and called a curse. Her face grew darker with each word.
"Those animals," she spat when I finished. "After everything you suffered, they dare to blame you for his death?"
"They think I'm bad luck," I said with a bitter laugh. "Maybe they're right."
"Don't you dare say that," Mama said firmly, gripping my hands. "You survived two years of hell. You're the strongest person I know, Carlotta. Don't let their poison make you think otherwise."
I looked around the small apartment, trying to process this new reality. "So you work for the Blackwoods?"
She nodded. "As a maid. It's honest work, and they pay fairly. Mrs. Blackwood is a kind woman, nothing like the families we used to know."
"That's good, Mama. I'm glad you found something stable."
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment before she spoke again. "What will you do now? You need to think about being independent, especially after what happened with Dante's family. You can't rely on anyone else to take care of you."
I felt a flutter of panic in my chest. "I know, but... I don't know how. For two years, all I did was... was be his wife. I cooked his meals, cleaned his house, attended his parties. I don't know how to do anything else."
"You're smart," Mama said gently. "You can learn. You have to learn, because the world isn't kind to women who can't take care of themselves."
"But what kind of work could I do?" I asked, frustration creeping into my voice. "I have no skills, no education beyond what I had at sixteen. Who would hire me?"
"We'll figure it out together," she promised. "Maybe Mrs. Blackwood needs another maid. Or maybe there's something else you could do. You were always good with numbers when you were little."
I wanted to believe her, but the fear was overwhelming. For two years, every decision had been made for me. Every meal, every dress, every moment of my day had been controlled by Dante. Now I was supposed to just... figure it out on my own?
"I'm scared, Mama," I admitted quietly.
"I know, baby," she said, pulling me close again. "But you're free now. For the first time since you were sixteen, you get to choose what happens next. That's terrifying, but it's also a gift."
I closed my eyes, trying to imagine a future where I made my own choices. It seemed impossible, like trying to picture a color that didn't exist.
"Can I stay here tonight?" I asked. "Just until I figure out what to do?"
"Of course," she said immediately. "This is your home now, for as long as you need it."
As I settled onto her small couch that night, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the city outside, I tried to feel hopeful about tomorrow. But all I could think about was how small and lost I felt, like a child playing dress-up in an adult's world.
Tomorrow, I told myself. Tomorrow I'll figure out how to be independent. How to be strong.
- Writer
