Chapter Two

Alessia's POV

"Sign it."

He grabbed a document from the table and handed it to me.

I looked down—it was a densely written consent form for the drug trial. It listed various possible side effects: severe abdominal pain, continuous bleeding, hormonal disruption, hair loss...

I gave a bitter smile, my fingers trembling slightly as I signed my name on the document.

Rocco took the document back, coldly announcing he would host a grand welcome party for Chiara. He said it was to "compensate" for her two-year absence.

I stood there, listening to him arrange everything in that emotionless voice, feeling hollow inside.

Over the next few days, the entire estate was consumed with preparations—Father invited heads of all the major families, Mother personally supervised every detail. Everyone was rejoicing over her return.

On the day of the party, I stood alone in the corner of the ballroom, watching the major families arrive, filling the grand hall with opulent crowds.

The Ferraro family from Carmine City arrived first. Lorenzo Ferraro controlled Carmine City's largest port shipping lines. Past sixty, his gaze remained sharp as an eagle's. Beside him stood his grandson Patrick, young and handsome with refined manners—just returned from London Business School, considered the most promising of the next generation Ferraros.

The Connor family from Santoro City was more flamboyant. Current patriarch Dante Connor wore a deep purple velvet suit, laughing loudly as he clinked glasses. Santoro City's underground casinos and nightclubs were all under his control—rumor had it even the police commissioner had to give him face.

And there was the Russian representative from afar—Viktor Kozlov. Father had specifically invited this powerful Moscow figure to expand into Eastern European business. He wore an immaculate black suit, tall and imposing, with neat golden hair slicked back and ice-blue eyes that were cold and dangerous. His men followed him like silent hounds, never leaving his side.

No one came to greet me. Everyone surrounded Chiara.

Chiara stood radiant in the center of the crowd, her arm linked with Rocco's. She wore an ivory gown, diamond necklace refracting dazzling light. They looked so perfectly matched, like they'd stepped off a magazine cover.

I couldn't watch anymore. Just as I was about to escape to some unnoticed corner, I suddenly caught something wrong.

Viktor had somehow appeared before Chiara, his entire demeanor instantly frosting over. Those ice-blue eyes locked onto Chiara, and nearby guests began uneasily backing away.

"Chiara..." Viktor's voice was terrifyingly low, ground out from deep in his chest. "Two years. I've been looking for you for two fucking years!"

Chiara's face turned deathly pale. She instinctively stepped back, stepping on her gown's hem and nearly falling.

"You... you've got the wrong person..." Chiara's voice trembled.

Viktor pulled out a photograph from his suit pocket and threw it on the floor. "This is you at the Monaco casino surveillance footage. Still want to deny it?"

The photo slid to Chiara's feet. In it, she wore a red dress, sitting intimately beside Viktor at a gambling table, her smile radiant.

The guests gasped.

Viktor turned to Father, his tone icy: "Mr. Vitale, your daughter has offended me. I need to take her back for proper... discipline."

Father's face turned iron-gray, veins bulging at his temples, but he still struggled to maintain composure, stepping forward: "Mr. Viktor, there must be a misunderstanding—we can sit down and discuss this properly."

Viktor raised his hand in a gesture. Two black-suited bodyguards stepped forward, gripping Chiara's arms from both sides.

"Let me go! Let go! Papa—!" Chiara struggled desperately, her makeup completely ruined.

Just then, a steady voice rang out from the crowd.

"Wait, Mr. Kozlov."

Rocco stepped forward. He walked up to Viktor, looking directly into those bloodshot ice-blue eyes without arrogance or servility.

"Give me fifteen minutes." Rocco's voice wasn't loud, but it carried undeniable weight. "I'll give you a satisfactory explanation."

Viktor stared at Rocco for several seconds. After all, behind Rocco Benedetti stood the true pinnacle of Valentia's power—the Benedetti family. Even the Ferraro family controlling Carmine City's port lifeline, or the Connor family monopolizing Santoro City's underground industries, had to show Rocco respect.

Viktor wasn't a fool. He knew what it meant to offend Rocco in Valentia. After a moment of silence, he finally nodded slightly.

He signaled his men to release Chiara and stationed his people in the ballroom.

Rocco, Father, and Mother led Chiara toward the study.

I breathed a sigh of relief, turning to leave—

"Miss Alessia."

A maid hurried over, looking somewhat nervous. "Mr. Benedetti wants you there too."

When I reached the study, I saw Chiara collapsed on the sofa, tears streaming down her face.

"Papa, save me... Viktor will kill me..."

Father paced back and forth, his face grim. "We can't hand Chiara over, but we also can't offend Viktor."

Mother hugged Chiara tightly. "My daughter can't come to harm!"

I stood at the study door, still not understanding what was happening. Then Rocco's eyes suddenly met mine.

"Let Alessia go in Chiara's place." Rocco spoke slowly. "You're twins, you look almost identical. Besides, Chiara's injuries haven't healed—she can't take this."

"That's perfect!" Mother immediately agreed. "If Alessia hadn't stolen Rocco from Chiara, how would Chiara have been heartbroken enough to flee to Europe? If she hadn't gone to Europe, how would she have met that devil Viktor? Chiara's current situation is all her fault!"

Father nodded too. "Let's do that. Alessia, you must take care of yourself. After all, you still need to test the drugs for Chiara."

I stood there, watching this family. They discussed my life and death as casually as discussing tonight's dinner menu.

Chiara hid in Mother's arms, her eyes showing relief. Rocco looked at me without any guilt.

"Fine." I heard my own voice, eerily calm. "I'll go."

I only had less than a month to live anyway.

The words had barely left my lips when a bodyguard rushed in, voice tense: "Mr. Benedetti, Mr. Kozlov says time's up. He wants to take Miss Vitale now!"