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Chapter 6 - The Confession of a Broken WomanDown in the east parlor, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the quiet peace of the guest suite.

The room was dimly lit by a single floor lamp. Bianca Castellano sat in an antique velvet armchair, staring blankly at her manicured fingernails. The high-society poise that had defined her entire life was entirely gone; her hair was disheveled, her makeup smeared around her eyes from hours of hysterical weeping.

The heavy oak door unlocked, and Raffaele stepped into the room.

He didn't look angry. He looked entirely detached—the way a surgeon looks at a diseased tissue before removing it.

Hearing the footsteps, Bianca snapped her head up. For a second, a desperate, pathetic hope flared in her eyes.

“Raffaele! Thank God!” she cried, standing up and rushing toward him. She tried to grab the lapels of his jacket, but Raffaele stepped back, letting her hands fall into empty air. Bianca stumbled, her lower lip trembling. “You have to stop this! You have to tell the police there’s been a misunderstanding! Julian is just a lawyer—he didn't mean any harm! And I... I was just protecting our family! You know how fragile father’s legacy was!”

“Father’s legacy wasn't fragile, Bianca,” Raffaele said quietly, his voice cutting through her frantic pleading like a scalpel. “Our family name was strong enough to survive anything—except for the monsters wearing our own blood.”

Bianca stared at him, her chest heaving. “You’re going to let them put me in prison? Your own sister? After everything I sacrificed for this estate?”

“You sacrificed nothing,” Raffaele replied coldly. “You stole. You imprisoned an innocent woman, tortured her in the dark for five years, and lied to my face every single day while looking me in the eye. You aren't my sister anymore, Bianca. As far as the Castellano family is concerned, you died five years ago in that bridal suite.”

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A choked sob tore from Bianca’s throat. She sank to her knees on the Persian rug, burying her face in her hands as the full, irreversible reality of her ruin crashed down upon her. There were no more lies to tell, no more loopholes to exploit, no more lawyers to save her.

Raffaele turned his back on her without another word and walked out of the parlor, closing the heavy oak door behind him with a quiet, final click.

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