I Was Killed on My Birthday, and My Mother Called Me a Liar

I've been missing for a full week.

In the Ferraro family, this means one thing:

I've been implicitly considered "disposed of."

The irony is:

No one in the entire manor has mentioned me.

It's as if I never existed.

The first person to "discover" my disappearance was Serafina.

She stood in the center of the main hall, her white dress so pristine it seemed otherworldly.

Delicate, harmless, perfect.

"Aunt Gianna..." her voice was soft, as if it would dissipate in a breeze, "Valentina hasn't returned for several days... Do you think something might have happened to her?"

As she spoke, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

The movement was clean, restrained, and perfectly timed.

As if meticulously rehearsed countless times.

My mother looked at her.

At that moment, her expression held a tenderness I had never seen before.

“Ignore her,” she said indifferently. “That heartless person didn’t even come to your initiation ceremony.”

“She’s probably out fooling around again.”

She reached out and straightened Serafina’s collar.

The gesture was painfully intimate.

“I’ll always be with you.”

“Just like your mother entrusted me with this before she died.”

Seraphina’s eyes instantly reddened.

She threw herself into my mother’s arms, her voice trembling.

“I knew…you’re the best person for me.”

My mother hugged her.

For a moment, her movements even carried a kind of… cautious tenderness.

“You are my most beloved child.”

She said.

Word by word.

Without the slightest hesitation.

I stood beside her.

Suddenly, I felt as if my chest had been ripped open.

Something I had never received.

She gave it to someone else.

Without hesitation.

My father died long ago.

She died in a family purge.

Not even her body was left.

From then on, only she and I remained in the manor.

Later—

Lucia Marchetti fell ill.

For two whole years.

The kind of illness that slowly drains you.

Before she died, she was placed in the most secluded wing of the manor.

The heavy curtains were drawn tightly, not even letting in sunlight.

The air was thick with the smell of medicine and decay.

I stood outside the door.

I heard her say with her last strength—

"Seraphina…I'm entrusting her to you."

My mother didn't hesitate.

She nodded.

Like accepting a responsibility.

Like receiving a replacement.

The next day.

Seraphina moved into my room.

And I was kicked out.

I refused to move.

That was my only space.

I clung to the doorframe, refusing to let go.

Her patience quickly ran out.

"Slap—"

The first slap landed.

Before I could react.

The second one landed.

My face burned with pain.

But I didn't even dare to cry.

She stared at me.

Her eyes held no emotion a mother should have.

Only disgust.

"Valentina," her voice was as cold as a knife, "you dare disobey me now?"

"If you don't behave, I'll throw you out of the manor."

At that moment, I truly believed it.

She could do it.

That night.

I huddled in a corner of the basement.

Damp, cold, and dark.

I covered my mouth, afraid to cry out.

Upstairs, I heard the sounds of guns being disassembled and assembled, and men talking in hushed tones.

The family world continued to function.

But it had nothing to do with me.

The next day, she saw my swollen, red eyes.

She said nothing.

As if she'd seen something insignificant.

From that moment on, I understood.

She truly hated me.

I came to my senses.

I felt a sharp pain in my chest.

Like it was belated.

And final.

Seraphina took a certificate from her pocket.

She smiled, pure and proud.

“Aunt Gianna, look, I got first place.”

My mother took it.

The light in her eyes was gentle yet blinding.

She bent down and kissed her on the cheek.

“My darling, you're so amazing.”

“You're my proudest daughter.”

Seraphina paused.

As if gathering her courage.

“Then… can I call you Mom?”

The air was silent for a moment.

I even instinctively held my breath.

My mother was stunned.

Then.

She smiled.

Her eyes were slightly moist.

“Of course.”

“My daughter.”

At that moment.

Something severed completely in my heart.

Seraphina bit her lip, as if suddenly remembering something.

“Then…what about Valentina?”

“She’s your own daughter…”

Her voice was cautious.

As if speaking for me.

But I knew.

She was just pushing the knife a little deeper.

My mother’s face instantly turned cold.

“Her?”

She scoffed.

“She never calls me Mom.”

“What kind of daughter is she?”

She paused.

Her tone was light and airy.

But it was more ruthless than a knife.

“She’s no different from being dead.”

I was stunned.

Then, I slowly smiled.

So that’s how it is.

“Mom.”

“You’ve finally got what you wanted.”

She hugged Serafina. Like holding her true bloodline.

And me.

Standing to the side.

Like a superfluous shadow.

I suddenly understood something.

It wasn't that I wasn't good enough.

It was that from the very beginning—

She never intended to have me.

Ever since Serafina arrived.

She had been playing the role of the perfect daughter.

Obedient, docile, sensible.

Accompanying her to banquets.

Handling favors for her.

Even when Serafina was busy cleaning up the "dirty work," she would personally deliver meals to the law enforcement office.

She knew what she wanted.

And how to get it.

And me.

I knew nothing.

The night grew deeper.

The manor lights remained bright.

Infrared surveillance cameras swept across the high outer walls.

Armed guards stood ramrod straight.

They protected this family.

A place I never truly belonged to.

I floated in the night.

A cold wind pierced my body.

Suddenly, I wanted to ask.

In this night surrounded by lights.

Would she, for a fleeting moment?

Think of me.

Think of her—

Daughter celebrating her birthday.