Even Don De Rosa probably still didn’t know that I could walk.
I’d come to that conclusion after seeing a medical bill in my name some time ago.
My adoptive mother had immediately snatched it away and hidden it, so I hadn’t been able to read much of it.
But for a long time now, I’d suspected that the Mariani family was living off Don De Rosa’s money.
Or rather, the money allocated for my care.
Years ago, they had owned a grocery store.
But it started losing money, so they eventually shut it down.
How had they continued to support themselves afterward?
Obviously, with the money set aside for me.
But that was perfectly normal.
Don De Rosa had deliberately provided a substantial amount on top of my expenses as a sort of salary for my adoptive family.
Still, when I’d seen that medical bill, I’d begun to suspect that my adoptive parents were still requesting money for my medical treatment, even though I hadn’t needed that kind of care for years.
Whether that was actually true, I had no idea.
And I never tried to find out.
For one thing, my position in this house was already precarious enough.
If I accused my adoptive parents of something like that, things could become much worse.
For another, Don De Rosa had never once come to see me, nor had he ever asked me to visit him.
I wasn’t about to travel across Campania just to tell him about my suspicions.
He clearly didn’t particularly want to see me.
At the very least, he wasn’t interested in it.
And apparently, he didn’t care much about money either, considering he never bothered to check where it was going.
He simply didn’t care.
But I got a little more evidence for my suspicions when I decided I wanted to get a job.
I was sick of living off someone else’s money.
My adoptive parents immediately forbade it, claiming that Don De Rosa wouldn’t be happy about it.
So I told them I’d go to him myself and ask.
That was when everything started.
For the first time, my adoptive parents practically shouted at me.
They insisted that Don De Rosa was a busy man and that I couldn’t possibly bother him over something so trivial.
He would get angry.
And they might even get in trouble for raising me poorly.
In the end, they allowed me to work, but told me not to go anywhere and not to mention it to anyone.
There were two possibilities: either Don De Rosa genuinely wouldn’t approve because he was supposed to support me, and my decision to work would be seen as an insult to his pride; or my adoptive parents were afraid of losing part of their financial support if Don De Rosa decided I was more independent than they claimed.
They did a lot of things that made me question their motives.
But if even Don De Rosa possibly didn’t know that I could walk, how could my biological parents know?
They’d never once visited me.
The only person they could even ask about me was Don De Rosa.
So whenever those questions crossed my mind, I could only laugh bitterly.
And I hated myself for still thinking of them as my family when clearly, that wasn’t the case anymore.
At least, I was no longer their daughter.
.
.
.
“If you’re trying to benefit from the fact that I’m Don Amato’s daughter, then I’m sorry, but he couldn’t care less about me.” I snapped back to reality and blinked several times.
God, I felt exhausted.
My head had started throbbing from all those thoughts.
“I’m not even sure he remembers I exist anymore.
If you want to gain something from the Amato family, you’d be better off trying to win the heart of his other daughter.” “Your adoptive sister?” Matteo slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke.
The ragged wisps drifting from his lips looked eerie and, for some reason, strangely mesmerizing.
“Yes.
But my father…
Don Amato adores her.
He treats her like she’s made of glass.” I didn’t mention that my father had actually forbidden anyone from calling her adopted.
He considered her his biological daughter.
And that had always made me sick to my stomach.
I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.
“I’m not interested in her.
And I couldn’t care less about your father.” I raised an eyebrow.
Then frowned.
“Then if you’re expecting some kind of benefit from Don De Rosa, you have even less of a chance.
Can’t you see what kind of family I’m living in?” “Wrong again.” “Then what?” The more he talked, the less I understood him.
Or rather, he clearly had no idea what kind of position I was in.
A completely miserable one.
There was nothing anyone could possibly gain from me.
“I’m simply carrying out my father’s orders.” Matteo lazily rested his head against his fist again.
“What an obedient son.” I couldn’t hide the sarcasm in my voice.
I wasn’t even trying.
Thankfully, I managed not to add that his father clearly wasn’t the brightest man around.
“Not particularly.
My father told me to treat you very carefully.
But while I respect my father, as you can see, I’m not always the most obedient son.”