Catherine’s POV
Elena met me in the foyer.
I’d braced myself for a lot of things on the flight.
I had not braced myself for my own mother looking at me like I was the problem.
“Catherine.” Her arms were crossed.
No hug.
No are-you-okay.
“Isabella called crying.
What did you do?”
I set my bag down slowly.
“Excuse me?”
“On the plane.
She said you humiliated her.
In front of a whole cabin of people.” Elena’s voice climbed.
“Do you have any idea how that looks?
A Vitale, making a scene like some jealous—”
“He was cheating on me, Mom.” The word cracked halfway out.
“Six years.
Marco.
He was seeing Isabella behind my back.
I found out on the plane.”
I waited.
I wanted her to hold me.
I wanted her to be angry for me, just once.
Elena sighed.
Like I was the mess.
Like I’d tracked mud across her clean floors.
“Catherine.” She said my name the way you’d talk down a child.
“his heart went elsewhere.
You can’t force a man to feel something he doesn’t.
Frankly, Catherine, if he chose Isabella, maybe you should ask yourself why you were holding on so tightly.
It looks a little desperate, don’t you think?
Getting between the two of them.”
The floor dropped out from under me for the second time that day.
“Getting between them.” I stared at her.
“He was my boyfriend.
She’s the one who—”
Antonio appeared at the top of the stairs then, robe cinched, expression already set against me the way it always was when Isabella was involved.
“Enough,” he said.
“Both of you.
Catherine, I’m not going to have shouting in my house at this hour.”
“Your daughter stole my boyfriend.”
“Isabella told us a different story.” Antonio’s voice came from the top of the stairs.
My father descended slowly, buttoning the cuff of his shirt, calm as anything.
“She says the two of them fell for each other.
Honestly.
And that you’ve been holding on to Marco long past the point he wanted out.”
“Clinging—” I looked at him, unable to believe it.
“Dad, I’ve been with him for six years.”
“And clearly he’s moved on.” Antonio’s voice hardened.
“You’re being selfish.
Isabella is younger than you.
She’s more delicate.
You’ve always been the strong one, the sensible one.
So be sensible now.
Step aside and let her have this.”
I’d been hearing that sentence for twenty-one years.
Because I was the adopted child.
Because everything I had, I owed.
Because whatever was mine became Isabella’s the moment she set her sights on it, and I was always, always the one who let go.
And I always had.
“So that’s it,” I said.
My voice had gone very quiet, and very steady.
“You want me to hand him over.
Again.
Like always.”
“Marco’s a fine young man.” Antonio spread his hands.
“Ambitious.
Generous.
He’s been very good to this family.
You should be happy for your sister.”
Generous.
There it was.
I thought about all the “investments” Marco had made in my father’s little ventures over the years, the gifts, the dinners, the checks.
I’d thought it was Marco being a good boyfriend.
I understood now that he’d been buying insurance.
And it had paid off beautifully.
They’d already picked their side.
They’d picked it before I walked through the door.
I looked around at all of them.
My father, who’d taken me in twenty-one years ago and never once let me forget it was a favor.
My mother, who’d raised me to be useful.
My sister, who’d been taught from birth that everything I had was hers on loan.
And I felt something in my chest go very quiet and very still.
“You know what?” I said.
“You’re right.”
Elena blinked, thrown.
“I—yes.
Good.
I’m glad you see—”
“They should be together.” I smiled at both of them, wide and bright and completely empty.
“Marco and Isabella.
Truly.
I hope they’re very, very happy.
I hope they lock it down and never look back.” I picked my bag back up off the floor.
“You can tell Isabella I said congratulations.
I mean it.
She won.”
For a second, nobody spoke.
It wasn’t the reaction they’d rehearsed for.
“Well,” Elena said slowly, recovering.” Good.
Then it’s settled.
And really, Catherine, this is for the best.
You’re twenty-seven, you can’t just float along.
Now that this is behind us, I’ve been meaning to introduce you to someone.
The Mr.
Ricci—”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“He’s a very suitable match.
It would be good for the family.
And it’s time you thought about your future, about doing something useful for this household after everything we’ve—”
“After everything you’ve done for me.” I laughed, and it wasn’t a nice sound.
“Right.
The debt.
I forgot I was still paying it.”
“Catherine—”
“Fine.” I cut her off.
I was too tired to argue, and a cold, clear plan had already begun to take shape in my mind.
“Set it up.
I’ll go.”
Everyone went still.
Elena stared at me as if I had suddenly started speaking another language.
Antonio’s brows drew together, and even Isabella looked up from her phone.
They had expected tears.
Anger.
Maybe another fight before I finally gave in.
They had not expected me to agree so easily.
But agreeing to meet someone was simple.
It cost me nothing.
I could sit across from a stranger, smile, answer a few questions, and let my family believe they were still choosing my future for me.
What happened after that, however, might not go the way they expected.
I wouldn’t marry the man they’d chosen for me.
But marrying a man of my own choosing to get away from this family?
That actually sounded like a pretty good idea.
“Are you serious?” Elena asked carefully.
I picked up my bag and smiled.
“Of course.
You wanted me to meet him, didn’t you?”
For the first time that night, nobody knew what to say.
They thought they had finally found another way to pass me off to someone else.
They were wrong.
I would go to the meeting.
I would listen.
I would play along for as long as I needed to.
But whatever happened after I sat down at that table, I would decide for myself.
I was done being handed over.
From now on, the only person moving me across this board was me.