Chapter 2 The Scandal

I rose from the bed after wrapping the bed cover around my bare body.

I scanned the room for my clothes. They were ripped and shattered everywhere on the ground.

But then I froze; a scent lingered in the air. It was familiar. The perfume somehow reminded me of Luca, my guardian angel.

The cracked sound of the door opening made me jump in my place. My heart raced as Papa stormed in, his face pale like a lemon.

He froze for a second. Then his gaze darkened, and stared at me from top to toe with fury, disappointment, and disgust.

I was sure I wasn't going to forget that gaze for the rest of my life.

Then, he looked away, clenching and unclenching his fists as if he was ready to hit.

His voice was cold and detached when he growled, "Get out in front of me, now!"

"Papa, I..." I stammered.

"Not another word," he roared, his voice detached with a sharp warning tone.

When I didn't make a move-deadly afraid of him-he slapped me hard, turning my face to the side as I stumbled a few steps back.

A loud gasp escaped my mouth, my face was already sore from last night's violence.

With his iron hand, he held a grip of my hair and carried me behind him like a sheep, not wearing anything but the bedsheets.

The corridors were empty, and I believe he cleared them out with his influence.

"Papa, please," I begged, the pain in my hair was unbearable

Then, he shoved me inside one of the offices on the same floor where Mama Marcilia-the kind, loving woman who raised me-and was standing beside her her youngest son, Ricardo, who was six years older than me.

The moment she saw me, shock, disbelief and maybe disgust too, filled her face. She gasped as she covered her mouth, "Mamma Mia!"

The tension was at its climax in the office's atmosphere. All eyes were fixed on me with disgust, fixed on my humiliation appearance, wearing just a bedsheet.

With a sharp voice, Mama said, "May I have a word with her?"

Papa didn't say a word, he just shot me a dead glare and turned to leave, followed by Ricardo who sized me up and down.

Once we became alone, Mama Marcilia threw a disgusting glare at me.

"Why, Mila? Why did you stab us in the back? Why did you do this to your family?" she asked, her voice stern, but I could sense the sadness in her tone.

"I-I didn't..." My sobs came one after another, not letting me speak. Shame was wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket.

She shook her head with disbelief as she pulled out her phone and showed me a video of myself in that first room. The camera angle didn't show me trying to fight back or save myself-it didn't even show the attacker's face.

The video was photoshopped, but will they believe me?

I snapped my eyes at her in shock, unable to believe what I was seeing. I placed my hand over my mouth to hold back a scream and whispered, "No... no... no..."

But before I could defend myself, Papa Gerald banged on the door so hard that both of us jumped in fear. Mama Marcellia whispered, "We'll talk at home." Then she spoke out loud, "We're done here."

****

The ride back home was silent and sharp like a knife. Shame wrapped around me, even though I was the victim. That was how they made me feel.

The five black cars passed through the towering iron gate and the bulletproof concrete walls of the Raventhorn Mansion-where the Hayden family lived for ages.

Papa's eyes were a bloodshot, and his mouth a thin line. Rounding his gun on his index as if he was thinking seriously of killing me. It felt like I was attending my own funeral.

I stepped out of the car wearing nothing but a bedsheet, and walked into the mansion. All under the curious eyes and whispers of the guards and servants, while the security armed guards surrounded us as we walked.

"You'll leave for Milan, Italy, in two hours," Papa declared once we were inside, while turning his back to me. "You'll stay there until I decide what to do with you." And without giving me a chance to speak or defend myself, he walked out.

His words were final, his tone unforgiving.

"But I didn't..."

"I knew she'd bite the hand that raised her. Yock, merda," Aunt Miranda hissed, spitting out the words as she looked at me with disgust.

"I had been sitting up!" I screamed at the top of my lungs before collapsing to the floor.

I had never even left New York City in my entire life. How was I supposed to survive alone in a country where I knew no one?!

I looked at Ricardo with tears and desperation. "Rick, frattelo, fear brother, it was Liana! She's the one who set me up-she's the reason I ended up like this!" But he turned his face away, refusing to even look at me.

"And was she the one who made you sneak out of the mansion at night like a thief, stubido?" Aunt Miranda asked, exhaling smoke from her cigarette.

With a deep sigh, Mama Marcellia said, "Enough, Mila. We'll send you away until things calm down. Gerald has already managed to delete the video from all social media, but it'll take time for everything to settle and for people to forget. Especially since the man who..."

She stopped herself mid-sentence, swallowing the word she was about to say. Lifting her head to keep her tears from falling, she continued,

"That man... he's one of Gerald's most dangerous enemies."

It felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured over my head.

Oh my God!! I had been used to stab Papa Gerald in the back!

And...

Gosh!! Did everyone see that video??

Did my brothers watch it? Did Luca watch it?