I Was Their Moon, Now I Belong to Another King

After my family collapsed, my mother's closest ally brought me to the DeLuca compound and placed me under their roof. That single act bound me to the DeLuca brothers for twenty years.

Because they kept me close, watched over me, gave me their attention in ways no one else received, the people around us grew jealous. But when I was finally old enough to talk about marriage, about building something real, both of them turned me down.

The older brother told me, "The Family comes first. I have no interest in marriage."

The younger one shrugged. "I'm still young. I want to have my fun for a few more years. Besides, this little thing between us was never something to take seriously."

Yet the next day, at my birthday dinner held in the main hall of the compound, the two of them got down on one knee and proposed. Not to me. To the housekeeper's daughter, right there in front of everyone.

What's more, just to make her happy, they forced me to drink hard liquor, knowing my stomach couldn't handle it. The bleeding started before I made it out of my chair. As I was rushed to the hospital, they covered her eyes and laughed at me, convinced I was just pretending.

Their cruelty was the thing that finally broke me. So on the day I was released from the hospital, I called my mother and said, "I'm willing to marry the Moretti Family's heir."

——

As I stepped outside, the biting autumn wind wrapped around me instantly, sharp and unfamiliar against my skin. It slipped through my thin clothes, chilling me to the bone, as if trying to remind me how unprepared I was for what came next.

The compound's iron gate stood behind me. Two soldiers stationed at the guardhouse didn't even look up. I was no longer someone worth watching.

My phone rang. The screen lit up with a name I knew all too well: Dante DeLuca, the elder of the DeLuca brothers.

I answered, and before I could speak, his cold, accusatory voice came through the line. "Bianca Valenti. Where have you been hiding all this time?" he demanded.

"Do you really think you can just walk away and escape what you owe?" he continued. "Get back here immediately and apologize to Serena Conti."

Before I could respond, I heard another voice in the background. Nico DeLuca, his younger brother.

"This is all because of you pretending to be sick," Nico said, his tone filled with irritation and blame. "Your little act upset Serena."

"Don't you know how delicate she is?" he added impatiently. "She hasn't been able to eat properly for days because of you."

As their voices echoed in my ears, I slowly turned my head and caught a glimpse of myself in the glass of a parked car.

The reflection staring back at me looked unfamiliar, almost like a stranger. The girl in the glass was thin to the point of fragility, her face pale and drawn, her body so frail it seemed a gust off the harbor could knock her over.

That fragile girl was me.

I had always been weak, prone to illness and frequent stomach pain. Because of that, the two brothers had once spent years worrying over me, taking care of me in ways I had once believed meant everything.

I could still remember one night when I'd had a sudden seizure. It had been late, and the compound's elevator was out. Without hesitation, Dante had carried me on his back, climbing twenty flights of stairs without stopping, his breath uneven but his grip unwavering.

At the same time, Nico had rushed out into the city after dark, searching almost frantically from bakery to bakery just to find my favorite carrot cake, hoping it would make me smile once I woke up.

From that moment on, they had paid close attention to everything I ate and drank, carefully watching over my health with a level of care that once made me feel like I belonged inside those walls. Like I was protected. Like I was theirs.

But all of that had long since faded away.

Ever since Serena entered our lives, those memories had become distant and meaningless, as if they had never truly existed.

Without saying another word, I hung up the phone. I didn't argue, didn't explain, didn't even feel the need to respond.

Instead, I dialed my mother's number.

I pressed my thumb against the pulse point inside my wrist. My heartbeat was thin and fast, but it was steady enough.

"Mother," I said quietly, my voice steady despite everything, "I've thought it through. I'm willing to marry the heir of the Moretti family."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. She didn't respond immediately.

After a moment, she finally spoke, her tone cautious but gentle. "This is a decision that will affect your entire life. Are you sure?"

When my father was killed and our family's territory was seized overnight, everything had fallen apart. My mother had no choice but to send me to the DeLuca compound for protection, while she stayed behind to salvage what little remained.

She carried the weight of our broken family alone, rebuilding piece by piece. It took her twenty long years before she finally managed to establish a connection with the Moretti family, giving the Valenti name a chance to mean something again.

Even after everything she had endured, she still cared about my happiness more than anything else.

The old matriarch of the Moretti family, Gianna Moretti, had personally chosen me to be her grandson's future wife. But my mother never forced me into it. She always left the decision to me.

Back then, I had believed in love. I thought it was something worth pursuing, something worth holding onto.