No One Told the Cripple the Story Was Fake

Vittoria's face twisted at my words, her pride taking a direct hit. Without warning, she raised her foot and drove her heel into my wheelchair.

"What's a cripple like you so smug about? Papa and Mamma buried every scrap of evidence for me. Sanctioned it before the whole Family. No matter how arrogant you act, you can't touch me."

Seething, she wrenched the chair forward again, her grip tightening on the handles. A slow, eerie smile curled on her lips as we neared the black lip of the pool, the garden lights trembling on the water.

"Let me show you who they truly care about."

Before I could react, she shoved my wheelchair forward. The world tilted, and the next instant, ice-cold water swallowed me whole.

The sharp chill surged into my lungs, stinging my skin. My limbs flailed uselessly as the dead weight of the chair dragged me down into the dark.

"Wife!"

"Daughter!"

The frantic shouts of Lorenzo and my parents cut through the chaos. Water broke violently as Lorenzo went in after me. I reached out, my fingers desperate to grasp onto something, someone.

But just as I thought he was coming for me, he bypassed me without hesitation. His hands found Vittoria instead, dragging her against his chest.

At the edge of the pool, my parents leaned forward, their hands outstretched. Not for me. For her.

A bitter smile curved on my lips as my hand fell away, my body sinking deeper into the abyss.

As darkness threatened to pull me under, Lorenzo's hands finally closed on me and hauled me back to the surface.

Coughing and gasping for air, I lay on the marble, water pooling beneath me. Beside me, frantic voices filled the night, and every soldier posted along the terrace had gone still, eyes lowered, hands folded, pretending not to see what the Family did to its own.

"Vittoria, wake up! Wake up!" My parents' cries rang out, thick with desperation.

A soft gasp broke through the commotion. Vittoria's lashes fluttered, and in a feeble voice, she murmured, "She… she suddenly drove her chair forward. I tried to save her, but… she pulled me in with her…"

Whispers rippled through the guests like an uneasy tide, the way murmurs move through a room when everyone knows the truth and no one will name it.

"I heard her foster sister shattered her legs at her own birthday five years ago… Perhaps the memory was too much for her. Perhaps she meant to end it."

Lorenzo's gaze flickered, a fleeting trace of guilt crossing his face before he smoothed the front of his soaked jacket flat with one palm, top to bottom, as though brushing away something clinging to him.

My father's expression twisted with something that almost looked like regret. My mother, sobbing, threw herself over me, clutching my drenched sleeves. Her hand rose to the crucifix at her throat and pressed it once, quick, unconscious.

"Daughter, why would you do something so foolish? We'll take care of you for the rest of our lives."

I looked at them, my lips curling into a cold, humorless smile.

Not moments ago, every ounce of their worry had been for Vittoria. Now, under the eyes of the guests, they staged this grand performance, dripping with feigned concern.

Bitter resentment coiled in my chest. I pressed my thumb hard against the inside of my wrist, the old spot where the line had once fed into me while they decided my legs would never carry me again.

Truly, what a spectacle.

How laughable.

Before she was carried off, Vittoria cast me a triumphant glance, her smirk brimming with satisfaction.

My birthday banquet had become a complete disaster. In the end, my oh-so-loving family escorted me straight to the Family physician.

When Dr. Russo declared I was unharmed, wiping his glasses on his sleeve as he said it, a sigh of relief filled the room.

Moments later, my phone buzzed. Another message from Vittoria.

[Did you see? He saved me first.]

[Even your parents called for me as their daughter. If you still don't understand, you're truly pathetic.]

[Their love for me runs deeper than it ever did for you. I was the one who lived under their roof the longest, after all.]

[So tell me, who's the real fool here?]

I didn't reply. Instead, I took my time saving every message, capturing each one, screenshot by screenshot.

That night, my family dropped me at the estate, then rushed straight to Vittoria's villa to tend to her.

Alone in the study, I printed out the chat logs, preserving every last word. Then I moved the recording of the hospital conversation onto a small drive.

A final parting gift.

By morning, not one of them had returned.

Lorenzo had sent word that he and my parents had gone out to arrange things and had left the house steward to watch over me.

I stared at the screen, my fingers tightening around the phone.

So that was how much I mattered.

I let out a cold laugh and summoned the steward, instructing him to gather up and get rid of everything Lorenzo had given me over the years.

Then I turned and made my way to the study.

My fingers traced the edges of the framed calligraphy my father had once written for me. I yanked it from the wall. Without hesitation, I hurled it into the fire.

One word. That was all he had ever granted me. [Health.]

For Vittoria, he had carefully brushed: [A harmonious house brings prosperity to the Family.]

Yet for me, his only blessing had been health, the very thing he'd stolen the moment he paid to have my legs broken and made certain I would never walk again.

The irony burned deeper than the flames in front of me.

Overcome with rage, I grabbed the scarf and leg warmers my mother had knitted and threw them into the fire, followed by every family photograph we had taken over the past decade.

One by one, the memories turned to ash.

Since I was leaving, I would not leave behind a single trace of myself in this house.

As I watched the fire consume it all, I made my final decision.

I went out into the night and made my way to the office of my Consigliere, handing over the printed documents.

I entrusted him with everything, instructing him to bring the case against Vittoria before the Commission the next day.

Even if I could not see her judged, I wanted every Family in the city to know she was still breathing, and that my own blood had been shielding her all along.

Then I logged into my accounts, loaded the photographs and the audio, edited them with care, and set them to break to a chosen few.

Only then did I answer Vittoria's message.

[Do you think I can make them abandon you and come running back to me?]

She took the bait at once.

[You think far too much of yourself. They'd never return today. Just wait and see.]

A cold smirk touched my lips as my phone rang, right on cue.

My parents' voices spilled through, full of borrowed warmth. "We still have so much to arrange. We have to place an urgent order overnight, so don't wait up for us."

Exactly as I had expected.

After hanging up, I sent the last piece of evidence to Dr. Russo, the physician they had bought, tying off the final loose end.

Then, clutching my ticket, I turned my back on the house I had lived in for ten years and vanished into the night.

The next morning, at the grand ribbon-cutting for Vittoria's front racket.

A call from Dr. Russo shattered my father's composure.

"Don Falcone, this is bad. Adriana knows the truth about the accident five years ago… She heard every word we spoke in that room."