Alessia Duval was twenty-nine years old.
She sat on her bed listening to her father complain about all the expenses weighing on them.
"I already told you — I could work. I could help with the bills," she said, worried about the family.
"I just want you to focus on that idiot Nestor."
"Dad, speaking of him..."
"We've already talked about this. We're a great family and we need to stick together, so come down from that cloud."
Her father walked out of the room while she lay there staring at the ceiling.
Her phone rang, and as if everything were conspiring against her, it was Nestor. She answered out of habit.
"Tomorrow we'll bring the paperwork to start the marriage process, and as soon as I'm back from my business trip, I'll throw you the party you deserve."
He said it and she just nodded, as if he could see her through the phone.
"Okay," she whispered, and ended the call.
The Duval family had gone from being one of the most influential families in the country to one of the most forgotten. Over ten years, the family company had crumbled gradually until it lay in ruins. Not even a shadow remained of the illustrious name they once carried.
Her mother had fallen ill a long time ago and had been hospitalized. So many problems wore her down until she slipped into a coma, caught between life and death.
Nestor was the fiance from ten years ago — the one Nicolas had been humiliated over.
For one reason or another, the wedding never materialized. Though Alessia knew the real reason and never said it — more than a decade in which the Capri family had been supporting them financially. For the Duvals, that was more than enough.
Alessia and her father left to visit her hospitalized mother. When they got in the car, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head — a gesture of affection and encouragement that had always been his way.
"You're so close, sweetheart. Just hold on a little longer," he said, trying to make her feel supported. She nodded in silence.
Mrs. Duval had been through a great deal to have Alessia. Her parents had pursued treatments so they could conceive. For them, Alessia was their miracle. They loved her — she knew that — but money blinded them. Everyone has a weakness, and theirs was the need to be on top again.
"Has Nestor called?"
"Yes, Dad. We'll bring the paperwork tomorrow, and within a week at the latest, it'll be signed."
She told him and watched a smile spread across his face.
"I was starting to wonder if he even wanted to go through with it. He just keeps stalling."
Her father said it and she turned to look out the window, listening to the rapid beating of her own heart. She wiped the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"It's okay, sweetheart. It's okay," he said.
Alessia nodded, sighing. Her father had always been the strongest pillar in her life, even though he'd weakened since her mother fell ill.
They arrived at the hospital, where they visited every day to check on her progress. He spoke with the nurse who had been caring for her mother for years.
She walked in — and froze. Her mother's eyes were open for the first time in all the months she'd been in a coma.
She sat beside her, took her hand, and through tears, looked at her. Her mother beckoned her closer, and what she whispered — her voice trembling and broken — made Alessia leap to her feet, knocking the chair over by accident.
She couldn't speak. The words had vanished. And the shrill sound of the monitor beside her forced her to run out. Her father dropped to his knees in tears when he understood what that sound meant.
She was gone.
And Alessia cried too. She cried because she'd just learned a truth that made her hate herself.
And the hatred she felt toward her mother was greater than the pain of losing her.
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