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First in Justice, Guilty at Christmas Dinner

NovelShort new Completed

Billionaire Mafia CEO Hot

Chapters (4)

第1章

My sister's boyfriend decided to interrogate me at our Christmas Eve dinner, right in front of the entire Moretti family. "So, Glenda," Eric DeLuca asked, swirling the wine in his glass, "what do you do these days?" I kept my expression calm. "I'm not working. I've been studying full-time for the federal judicial service exam." He raised an eyebrow. "No job?" His gaze swept over my dress and the diamond earrings I was wearing. "Then how exactly can you afford all that?" A few relatives glanced at me. Eric smirked. "Actually, forget it. I'll just say it." He leaned back in his chair. "I've seen you at one of the Kingsbury clubs." The room went quiet. Everyone at the table knew what Kingsbury meant. It was one of the private nightclubs controlled by the DeLuca family, the kind of place where wealthy businessmen and made men went when they didn't want questions asked. Eric pointed lazily toward my chest. "You've got a heart-shaped mole right here." My fingers tightened around my fork. His smile widened. "Go ahead. Prove me wrong. Take it off." More than twenty relatives were seated around the table. Every pair of eyes turned toward me. Shock quickly became contempt. The weight of their stares felt like fire against my skin. I looked at my parents. Neither of them spoke. My father lowered his head. My mother stared at her plate. Then I looked at my sister, Anne. Eric was her boyfriend. She should have been the first person to tell him to shut up. Instead, she sat beside him in silence. For five years, I had stayed away from the Moretti family's businesses and connections. I had studied until dawn, turned down every job my father offered me, and prepared for one exam after another because I wanted a life that had nothing to do with the family name. And I had finally made it. First place in the written exam. First place in the interview. My final background check was scheduled right after New Year's. At this stage, even a rumor connecting me to one of the mafia's private clubs could destroy everything. "Watch your mouth," I snapped. Eric calmly pulled out his phone. "Don't believe me?" He tapped the screen and played a video. "Princess Number Thirty-Six. Kingsbury private club." A woman in a tight red dress appeared beneath the dim lights, moving between private booths. My heart sank. She looked like me. Not completely, but enough. At least seventy percent. Eric turned the phone toward the table. "My buddy booked her once. Said she was pretty popular." The table immediately erupted. "No wonder Glenda always comes home with expensive gifts." "So that's where the money comes from." "I knew something was wrong. She hasn't worked in years." My parents still said nothing. I looked toward the Christmas tree. The gifts I had brought for everyone were stacked neatly beneath it. I suddenly laughed. "You all want to know where those gifts really came from?" The room fell quiet. I turned toward my parents. "Mom. Dad. If you won't tell them, then I will." My mother's face changed instantly. "Glenda!" She rushed toward me before I could say another word and grabbed the front of my coat. Then, to my disbelief, she pulled it open in front of everyone. "Sweetheart," she said quickly, reaching toward the neckline of my dress, "just take off your top and show them." I stared at her. She wouldn't meet my eyes. "If you don't have that mole," she whispered, "then everyone will know you're innocent." …… Never, not once in my life, had I imagined my own mother would be willing to humiliate me in front of the entire Moretti family just to keep certain secrets buried. Her words were like throwing gasoline onto a fire. The whispers around the dining room instantly turned vicious. "Even her own parents are telling her to strip. What else are we supposed to think?" "Laurence has spent half his life teaching law at Kingsbury University, and this is the daughter he raised?" Someone laughed coldly. "What a disgrace to the Moretti name." My father, Laurence Moretti, had always been one of the most respected men in the family. Publicly, he was a university law professor. Privately, everyone at that table knew he had spent years handling legal problems for the Moretti organization. He rarely raised his voice. He almost never lost his temper. But that night, he crossed the room in three furious strides. Before I could react, his hand struck my face. The slap was so hard my head snapped to the side. For several seconds, all I could hear was a sharp ringing in my ears. "Glenda Moretti." My father's voice was colder than I had ever heard it. "Apologize for what you've done. Admit it in front of the family, and swear you'll never disgrace us like this again." He pointed toward the doors. "Otherwise, leave this house tonight. From this moment on, you have nothing to do with the Moretti family." I slowly turned back toward him. My cheek burned. But the pain was nothing compared with the disbelief twisting inside my chest. "Dad?" My voice shook. "On what grounds are you forcing me to confess to something I never did?" I looked directly into his eyes. "When did I ever admit that I sold myself at a nightclub?" He didn't answer. I turned toward the relatives crowding around the long dining table. Then I pointed straight at Eric. "All of you are condemning me because of a video that barely looks like me and a few accusations from someone who isn't even part of this family." Eric's expression darkened. "Do any of you understand what he's doing?" I continued. "He's publicly accusing me of prostitution without evidence. That's slander." Anne suddenly surged forward. She grabbed the front of my blouse. "Eric DeLuca is the man I love!" Her voice echoed through the dining room. "He is not an outsider." She shoved me once. "And don't act innocent. You haven't held a real job in five years. You've spent all that time supposedly studying for government exams." Her eyes swept over my clothes. "So tell us, Glenda. Where does the Chanel come from? The jewelry? The gifts? The money?" Rage rushed through me. Everyone else might have believed her question was reasonable. But Anne knew better. "Other people at this table might not know," I said through clenched teeth, "but you do." For the first time, something flickered across her face. Then she released my shirt without warning. I stumbled backward. My heel caught against the edge of the rug, and I went down hard onto the marble floor. Pain shot through my wrist. More than twenty relatives stood around me. Not one person moved. No one offered me a hand. No one even asked whether I was hurt. Anne looked down at me and gave a short, mocking laugh. "Oh, right." Her lips curled. "You did tell me something once." My stomach tightened. She folded her arms. "You said you'd found yourself a man." A few people immediately leaned closer. Anne noticed and became even more pleased with herself. "You said the two of you were very close." She smiled cruelly. "Apparently so close you could barely keep your hands off each other." Before I realized what she intended to do, Anne bent down and ripped the silk scarf from around my neck. The fabric slid away. The marks underneath were exposed. A collective gasp swept through the room. My entire body went rigid. Several faint red marks ran along the side of my neck and disappeared beneath the collar of my blouse. Eric reacted almost instantly. He raised his phone. Click. Click. Click. The sound of the camera shutter made my blood boil. "Look at that." He laughed while taking another picture. "That many hickeys, and she still expects us to believe she isn't working in one of those clubs." I slapped the phone from his hand. It hit the floor and skidded beneath the dining table. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I shot to my feet. "You think you can photograph a woman's exposed body without her permission just because you're dating my sister?" Eric's smile disappeared. I stared him down. "I'm an adult. If my partner leaves marks on me, that's between the two of us." My voice rose. "It's legal. It's consensual. And it is absolutely none of your business." For a moment, no one spoke. Then Anne's voice cut through the silence. "Fine." She stepped closer. "If you're really telling the truth, this should be easy." Her eyes locked onto mine. "Tell everyone who your boyfriend is." I clenched my jaw. There was one name I had deliberately kept away from my family for a long time. But they had pushed me too far. "Jarvis Sanchez." Silence. For half a second, the entire dining room froze. Then someone burst out laughing. Another person followed. Within seconds, the room was filled with mocking laughter. "Wait. Did she seriously just say Jarvis Sanchez?" "As in Jarvis Sanchez, the eldest son of the Sanchez family?" "The Sanchez family that controls half of Kingsbury?" Someone shook his head in disbelief. The Sanchez name sat above nearly every other organization in the city. Shipping routes, casinos, private clubs, political connections. Even families like the Morettis and DeLucas measured their words carefully around them. And Jarvis Sanchez was the eldest son. The man everyone expected to inherit the entire empire. One of my uncles laughed until his face turned red. "Glenda, at least make your lie believable." Another relative sneered. "The Sanchez family sits at the top of Kingsbury's food chain." Her eyes traveled over me with open contempt. "Why would their heir look twice at a woman from a family like ours?"

第2章

"The Sanchez family can choose from half the old families in Kingsbury if they want an alliance. Why would they ever choose someone like Glenda Moretti?" "Exactly. Maybe she ran into the Sanchez heir at one of those charity galas, threw herself at him, and decided that meant they were sleeping together." Laughter spread through the dining room again. I looked at the faces around me. Every person here was family. Aunts who had held me when I was a baby. Uncles who had watched me grow up. Cousins I'd spent every Christmas and birthday with. Now they stood around me like a jury, tearing me apart as if my humiliation were the evening's entertainment. Not one of them cared whether any of it was true. My father suddenly grabbed the wooden cane that usually rested beside Grandfather's chair. "Glenda Moretti!" He brought it down across my back. Pain exploded between my shoulders. I stumbled forward. "Have you no shame?" he shouted. "It's bad enough that you're making filthy money in clubs, and now you're dragging the Sanchez name into your lies?" "Dad, stop!" I twisted away before he could strike me again. "Everything I said is true!" Another blow caught my arm. I gasped and curled instinctively around myself. Before I could recover, Eric stepped forward and snatched my phone from my hand. "Then let's make this simple." My heart dropped. "Give that back." He held the phone out of reach. "If Jarvis Sanchez is really your boyfriend, I'm sure he won't mind clearing this up." "Eric, don't." But he had already opened my recent calls. Before I could reach him, he pressed the number and switched the phone to speaker. The call connected after two rings. A familiar voice came through the speaker. Cold. Low. Irritated. "Hello?" My breath caught. Then Jarvis said, "I thought we agreed. You don't call me. I call you." The laughter around the room stopped. Several relatives exchanged uneasy glances. Even Eric's smile stiffened for a moment. The voice was unmistakably authoritative, the kind of voice that made men in Kingsbury lower theirs without realizing it. I lunged for the phone. Anne grabbed both of my arms from behind. "Let me go!" She tightened her grip. Eric lifted the phone closer to his mouth. "Mr. Sanchez?" Silence came from the other end. Eric cleared his throat. "I'm a man currently pursuing Glenda Moretti." My head snapped toward him. "What?" He ignored me. "I'd like to know exactly what kind of relationship you have with her." There was another pause. Then Jarvis gave a short, humorless laugh. "I don't have time for childish games." The meaning in his tone was obvious to me. He was angry. Eric didn't hear it. Neither did anyone else. "Wait, Mr. Sanchez," Eric said quickly. "This is important to the Moretti family. Glenda claims you're her boyfriend." Jarvis went silent. For one terrible second, I thought he might actually admit it. Instead, his voice turned colder. "A fling." My stomach tightened. "Nothing more." The room went completely still. Jarvis added, "Satisfied?" Then he hung up. Eric stared at the dead screen before slowly smiling. He tossed the phone back at me. "Well." It landed against my chest. "I think that settles it." What he didn't see was the screen lighting up almost immediately. Message after message appeared. Getting bold now, aren't we? You rejected me again, and now some man is calling himself your suitor? What exactly am I to you? Someone you sleep with when you're bored? Send me your location. I'm coming to get you. I stared at the messages. Another arrived. Ignoring me won't help. Then another. You think I can't find you myself? And finally: Glenda Moretti, you are not running away from me tonight. I locked the screen before anyone could see. There was one thing they weren't entirely wrong about. The way Jarvis Sanchez and I had met wasn't exactly something I'd ever planned to tell my parents. A year earlier, I had failed the final stage of the federal recruitment exam. Five years of studying, and I had missed the cutoff by less than a point. My best friend had dragged me to one of the neutral clubs downtown and insisted I drink until I stopped talking about exam scores. She left early when her boyfriend came to collect her. I stayed. I drank far more than I should have. At some point, looking for the restroom, I opened the wrong door. It wasn't the restroom. It was a private room reserved for the Sanchez family. Jarvis Sanchez was sitting alone on a leather couch. Even drunk, I knew who he was. Everyone in Kingsbury did. The eldest son of the Sanchez organization. The man expected to inherit an empire built on shipping, casinos, security companies, and businesses respectable people preferred not to ask questions about. I should have apologized and left. Instead, something inside me snapped. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was five years of frustration. Maybe I simply wanted, for once, to do something reckless. I walked straight over, pushed Jarvis back against the couch, and kissed him. His eyes were bloodshot that night. He looked like he had been drinking too. But he didn't push me away. By morning, neither of us could pretend nothing had happened. Jarvis stared at the scarlet stain on the white sheets for a long time, his brows drawing together. After that night, things became complicated. One meeting became another. Then another. Until somehow, without either of us admitting it, we became tangled in something that looked dangerously close to a relationship. I never fooled myself about what it meant. There was an entire world between Jarvis Sanchez and me. The Sanchez family sat at the top of Kingsbury's underworld. The Morettis were respected, but compared with them, we were minor players. And I knew about the woman Jarvis had loved for years. Everyone did. His first love. The woman he'd never managed to keep. She had eventually married someone overseas and disappeared from Kingsbury society, but people still whispered that Jarvis had never truly moved on. I assumed that was why he wanted me. Maybe I looked a little like her. Maybe I was simply convenient. So every time we were together, I reminded myself not to mistake possession for affection. Not to expect anything. Jarvis had told me more than once that he wanted something real with me. I'd rejected him every time. I always gave him the same answer. "When you meet the woman you actually want, tell me. We end this cleanly. No drama." He hated hearing it. But he never left. Jarvis was also absurdly generous. Jewelry. Clothes. Designer bags. A car I refused to accept. Sometimes the things he gave me made our relationship feel less like dating and more like I was being kept by one of the most dangerous men in Kingsbury. That was exactly why I'd never told my conservative parents. The only person who knew anything was Anne. My sister. The person I had trusted enough to tell. I had never imagined she'd use it to destroy me. Eric's voice dragged me back to the dining room. He was laughing again. "I can tell you with absolute certainty that wasn't Jarvis Sanchez." I looked up. Eric pulled out his own phone. "As some of you know, I work for one of the Sanchez Group's subsidiary companies." His confidence returned with every word. "Jarvis Sanchez is our chairman." He tapped quickly at the screen. "I've seen his corporate contact information before, so I checked the number Glenda has saved." A smug smile spread across his face. "It doesn't match." The room erupted again. I stared at him. Of course it didn't match. Jarvis had three phones that I knew of. Probably more that I didn't. Eric lifted his chin triumphantly. "And there's something else everyone in Kingsbury knows." His voice grew louder. "Jarvis Sanchez has never shown interest in women since his first love married overseas." A few relatives nodded immediately. "Exactly." "I heard that too." Eric looked at me from head to toe. Then his gaze lingered shamelessly on my chest. "With that sweet little innocent face of yours, Glenda, what makes you think a man like Jarvis Sanchez would even notice you?" My hands curled into fists. Anne laughed beside him. "Oh, God." She covered her mouth as if she'd just realized something hilarious. "Glenda, don't tell me some random man pretended to be Jarvis Sanchez just to get you into bed." She tilted her head. "Did someone actually trick you out of your virginity?" The room exploded. Laughter came from every direction. One cousin slapped the table. An aunt shook her head in mock sympathy. "She spent five years trying to climb out of this family, only to get fooled by the first man who claimed he was important." Another relative laughed even louder. "She wanted to climb into the Sanchez family so badly that she got played like an idiot." I stood in the middle of them, my back still burning from my father's blows, listening to the laughter rise around me. My phone vibrated again in my hand. One new message appeared on the screen. I'm outside.

第3章

"Let this be a warning to the younger ones in this family." One of my aunts pointed at me as if I were something filthy dragged in from the street. "Stay away from women who live like Glenda Moretti. Once you lose your dignity, you lose everything." Several relatives nodded along. Before I could answer, Mom came toward me. Her palm struck my face. The slap landed across the same cheek Dad had already hit. My head turned sharply to the side. "What have I taught you since you were a child?" she demanded. "A woman should have self-respect. She should know her worth." Her eyes were full of shame. "How could you let yourself become some man's bedmate?" I stared at her. She said it as though the accusation had already become fact. Eric gave a low laugh. "Bedmate?" He leaned against the dining table, enjoying every second of this. "If you ask me, this fake Mr. Sanchez probably isn't the only one." My stomach twisted. Eric continued, "You people don't understand how these private clubs work. A girl like Princess Number Thirty-Six doesn't survive on one customer." His eyes settled on me. "Men pay for company. For drinks. For private rooms. And sometimes for more." Then he smiled. "Just out of curiosity, Glenda, how much do you charge for one night?" The question was deliberately obscene. The reaction was immediate. Laughter exploded across the room. My face burned. Anne slapped Eric lightly on the chest and pretended to pout. "Why are you asking my sister about her rates?" Her tone turned teasing. "Thinking of booking her yourself?" Eric wrapped an arm around her waist in front of everyone. "Never." He pulled her closer. "You're the only troublemaker I need." Anne giggled and leaned against him. The performance made something turn in my stomach. I gagged and covered my mouth. Anne's smile sharpened. "Oh?" She looked me up and down. "Don't tell me you're pregnant too." Another wave of laughter followed. Pain throbbed across my back where Dad had struck me. Something inside me finally snapped. I reached out, ripped the wooden cane from Dad's hand, and threw it across the room. It struck the wall with a loud crack. "Enough!" The room fell silent. I looked at my father. "You were hitting me like you wanted to kill me." My voice trembled, but I didn't lower it. "Did you forget what happens if I actually die in this house?" His expression changed. "You may be one of the Moretti family's legal advisers behind closed doors, but to the rest of Kingsbury, you're Professor Laurence Moretti." I pointed at him. "If your own daughter ends up beaten to death at Christmas dinner, do you think your university position survives? Do you think the police will care about your reputation?" Dad's hand slowly dropped to his side. For the first time that night, he didn't hit me again. But there was no regret in his eyes. Only disgust. All of it directed at me. I turned toward Eric. His smug face made my blood run cold. "Keep talking." He frowned. I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. "Save every accusation for the police." The room went quiet again. I looked around at every relative who had laughed, insulted me, and called me a prostitute without a shred of evidence. "And one more thing." I raised my phone. "I recorded everything." Several faces changed instantly. "The insults. The accusations. The threats. Eric trying to photograph me after Anne exposed my neck." I smiled without humor. "So when the police decide whether this qualifies as harassment, defamation, assault, or unlawful recording, you can explain yourselves to them." A cousin went pale. One of my aunts stopped smiling. I continued, "And if any of you actually end up facing charges, don't come begging me to withdraw anything." The room transformed in seconds. "Glenda, don't say things like that." An aunt who had been mocking me moments earlier hurried forward. "We're family. We were only worried about you." Another relative immediately added, "Exactly. We were trying to stop you from making mistakes." Someone else turned on Eric. "This all started because of him anyway." "Does he even have proof that girl in the video is Glenda?" "Don't drag the rest of us into your personal problem." Eric's face darkened. I unlocked my phone. "I'm calling the police." Before I could finish dialing, Eric lunged forward and snatched the phone out of my hand. He ended the call. "What are you doing?" I shouted. He held the phone away from me. "Calling the police during the holidays?" He shook his head. "Do you have any idea how unlucky that is? You want the whole family starting the year with cops at the door?" Anne immediately burst into tears. "No." Everyone looked at her. She wiped at her eyes. "I can't have bad luck right now." Her voice cracked dramatically. "This is my third IELTS attempt. I have to pass this time. If I don't, I won't be able to study abroad." Study abroad. Those two words hit harder than my father's cane. I slowly turned toward my parents. Mom's face tightened. Dad avoided my eyes. A terrible suspicion began to form. "Dad?" He sighed. "You already know what our finances are like." I said nothing. He continued, "Even with the family's businesses, not all of that money belongs to us personally. Between you and Anne, we could only afford to send one daughter overseas." For a moment, I couldn't speak. My throat felt blocked. "But I already got in." Dad frowned. "What?" "Three years ago." My voice came out hoarse. "I was accepted by Imperial College London." The room became quieter. "I had the admission letter." I looked at my mother. "You told me not to go." She looked away. "You said London was too far. You said it wasn't safe for a young woman from our family to live alone overseas." My eyes burned. "And then Dad told me there were problems with the family accounts. He said some of the Moretti businesses were under investigation and money was tight." I gave a broken laugh. "You told me you couldn't afford the tuition." Neither of them answered. I felt something inside me collapse. "I gave it up." My voice cracked. "I spent months preparing that application. I got into one of the best universities in the world, and I gave it up because you told me the family needed me here." I stared at them. "It nearly destroyed me." My hands began to shake. "But I stayed." I pointed toward Anne. "And now you're planning to send her overseas?" Anne froze. "She hasn't even passed the IELTS." No one spoke. That silence was answer enough. Anne quickly stepped forward. Her expression became soft and guilty. "I'm sorry, sis." I looked at her. "When you got into Imperial, I was jealous." She lowered her eyes. "I told Mom and Dad that I wanted to study abroad too." My chest tightened. Anne continued, "I never thought they'd actually convince you not to go." She gave a small, helpless shrug. "Maybe they just thought you'd be successful anywhere." Her eyes lifted to mine. "You're the talented one, after all." Then the corner of her mouth curved. "I mean, apparently you even managed to become successful at a private club." My jaw clenched. She kept going. "You found yourself a fake Jarvis Sanchez and everything." The slap left my hand before I even realized I'd moved. The sound cracked through the dining room. Anne's head snapped sideways. For one second, everyone froze. Then Mom screamed. "Glenda!" She rushed forward and pulled Anne into her arms. "She's your sister!" Anne immediately buried her face against Mom's shoulder and started crying. "How dare you hit her?" Mom glared at me as though I were a stranger. "Giving up London was our decision." She pointed at herself and Dad. "Mine and your father's." "It had nothing to do with Anne." I stared at her. That somehow made it worse. Dad stepped forward. His hand struck my face. Hard. My vision blurred again. "Your mother is right." His voice was full of anger. "And after what I've seen tonight, I'm more convinced than ever that stopping you from going abroad was the correct decision." I froze. Dad looked at me with open contempt. "Your character is rotten." Each word landed slowly. "You're reckless. Disrespectful. Completely out of control." He gestured toward the room. "Wherever you go, you create trouble." My chest tightened so painfully I could barely breathe. "So whether it was London, Kingsbury, or anywhere else, it wouldn't have mattered." His expression hardened. "You would still have become a disaster." Something inside me finally broke. I had survived the insults. The accusations. The beating. Even hearing my own mother call me some man's bedmate. But those words from my father shattered the last thing I had been holding onto. The tears I'd fought all night spilled over. Once they started, I couldn't stop them. They ran down my face as I stood in the middle of the Moretti dining room, surrounded by the family I had spent my entire life trying not to disappoint.

第4章

Anne was only two years younger than me, but our parents had never treated us the same. Not once. Because she knew how to smile sweetly, cling to Mom's arm, and say exactly what people wanted to hear, she was always the daughter worth protecting. I was blunt. Awkward. Bad at pretending. Apparently, that meant I deserved everything they had done to me tonight. Eric DeLuca watched me cry and gave a mocking laugh. "What right do you have to cry?" I looked up. He pointed at me. "If you're really innocent, prove it." His gaze dropped toward my chest. "That heart-shaped mole. If you don't have it, I'll kneel right here in front of everyone and beg you to forgive me." He paused. "But if you do have one, you voluntarily give up your federal appointment." The room quieted. Eric's expression turned vicious. "Someone like you has no business working in the justice system." A chill ran through me. So that was it. The nightclub accusation. The video. The public humiliation. Everything Eric had done tonight had been leading to this. The relatives began looking at one another. "Federal appointment?" "Glenda passed?" "She got into the government and didn't even tell the family?" Someone sneered. "Since when does the federal government hire women who work in private clubs? Don't they investigate your background?" I said nothing. Five years. Five years of studying while everyone assumed I was wasting my life. Four failed attempts. And this year, finally, I had ranked first in both the written exam and the final interview. Only the background investigation remained. It was scheduled for immediately after New Year's. After what happened with Imperial, I had learned my lesson. I hadn't told anyone. Not Mom. Not Dad. Not even Anne. Yet none of them looked surprised. My parents didn't. Anne didn't. And Eric certainly didn't. Something cold settled in my chest. I looked directly at him. "You placed second." Eric's face tightened. I continued, "For the same position." Several relatives went silent. "So this is what tonight is really about." I gave a bitter laugh. "You couldn't beat me on the exam, so you decided to destroy my background check instead." His jaw clenched. "Pathetic." "Stop changing the subject!" Eric suddenly turned toward the others. "Someone hold her." My stomach dropped. He pointed at me. "Strip her and we'll know the truth." Anne moved first. She grabbed my wrists and twisted my arms behind me. "Mom! Dad! Help me!" I struggled hard enough to nearly knock over a chair. "Let go of me!" No one did. I raised my voice until it cut across the entire dining room. "If any of you touch me, then from this moment on, you are no longer my family." My parents stopped. For one second, I thought those words had reached them. Then Dad's expression hardened. "Glenda, don't blame us." Mom looked away. "Eric is Anne's boyfriend. The DeLuca family came here as guests tonight. We can't let him be falsely accused either." My blood went cold. That was their excuse. Justice for him. At the cost of me. Hands grabbed my coat. Then my blouse. I fought until my arms ached, but there were too many of them. In front of relatives who had known me since birth, they pulled my clothes away piece by piece until I stood there in nothing but my bra. For one heartbeat, the room was silent. Then phones appeared. Click. Click. Click. People were taking pictures. My own family. Twenty-seven years old, and never in my life had I imagined I could be humiliated like this. Eric shoved me sideways. "Look!" He pointed at my chest. "There it is!" His voice rose triumphantly. "A heart-shaped mole." The room exploded. "I told you!" "She's Princess Number Thirty-Six!" Camera shutters went off from every direction. I looked down. There was a heart-shaped mark on my skin. My mind went blank. It had not been there before. Someone had put it there. In the chaos, I lunged for my phone and managed to wrench it back. My fingers shook so badly I could barely type. I opened Jarvis's messages. Help me. Two words. Then I quickly sent another message to the police. Before anyone could stop me, it went through. Dad grabbed a fistful of my hair. Pain shot through my scalp as he dragged me upright. "Now what do you have to say?" Tears blurred my vision. But I refused to lower my head. "You can manufacture evidence against anyone if you try hard enough." His face darkened. I looked down at the mark. "That mole isn't mine." I met my father's eyes. "Someone put it there." My gaze swept across Mom, Anne, and Eric. "And I think we both know who had the opportunity." Dad slapped me. Hard. My cheek burned so badly that for a second I couldn't hear anything. I'd lost count of how many times he'd hit me tonight. "Still lying?" His voice was full of disgust. "You said yourself that you don't consider us family anymore." He released my hair. "Fine." Dad turned toward the head of the table. The eldest Moretti uncle was sitting there, watching everything without expression. "The family elder is here tonight. He witnessed what happened." My father looked back at me. "From this moment forward, Glenda Moretti is removed from the family registry." A murmur swept through the room. His voice grew louder. "She has no claim to the Moretti name, our property, our businesses, or our protection." He pointed toward the door. "From tonight on, you are no daughter of mine." The insults began immediately. "Laurence did the right thing. I don't want people hearing that the Morettis keep prostitutes in the family." "Two daughters were always unnecessary trouble anyway. Anne is enough." Then someone laughed. "So if Glenda loses the federal position, does Eric get it?" Another voice followed. "Congratulations, Anne. A boyfriend in the federal justice system isn't bad at all." One uncle grinned at Eric. "But you know what they say. The moment a man gets power, the first thing he does is trade in his girlfriend." Eric laughed. Then, right in front of everyone, he pulled Anne into his arms. He kissed her deeply. Far too deeply. When they finally separated, he smiled. "Anne is the love of my life." His hand settled possessively around her waist. "I'd never leave her." My stomach turned. The nausea hit so suddenly I barely had time to bend over. I vomited everything I'd eaten that night onto the marble floor. Anne's expression changed instantly. "What is that supposed to mean?" She glared at me. "You see Eric kissing me and you're so jealous you make yourself sick?" I wiped my mouth and slowly pulled my clothes back on. Then I laughed. Coldly. "You're right." Anne blinked. I looked around the dining room. "Every single person here makes me sick." My gaze settled on my parents. "So sick I couldn't even keep dinner down." Their faces darkened. I said nothing else. Instead, I waited. The moment everyone's attention shifted back to Anne and Eric, I moved. I rushed toward the stack of Christmas gift bags I'd brought earlier. Mom's face changed immediately. "Glenda!" Dad shot to his feet. I grabbed the largest bag. They had already disowned me. They had beaten me, stripped me, photographed me, and destroyed my reputation in front of everyone. So why should I keep protecting their secrets? Dad's voice thundered across the room. "Glenda Moretti, if you open that bag, I swear I'll kill you!" I looked at him. Then I smiled. Slowly. Deliberately. "Too late." I tore the bag open. Boxes, envelopes, documents, and several carefully wrapped items spilled across the floor. My parents lunged toward me. They weren't fast enough. One by one, the relatives stopped laughing. Their expressions changed. Shock. Confusion. Then disbelief. And at that exact moment, a violent crash shook the house. The front doors burst inward. Every conversation stopped. Several Moretti men reached instinctively for the weapons beneath their jackets. Heavy footsteps entered the foyer. Eric turned toward the door. The color drained from his face. His mouth fell open. Then his knees buckled. He collapsed straight onto the floor.