Page 66 of Blood Heir

I was never Father’s biological daughter.

I was born in a brothel. My mother—a nameless woman who sold her body for scraps. She was just another broken soul trapped in their world. My real father was Aurelio Accardi.

Serevin’s adoptive father. And the man who I thought was my father had bought me from my mother knowing who my birth father was. The father I know is dead so I have no answers for why he did it.

Serevin knew. He knew long before we married.

He knew exactly what I was.

His stepsister. He said nothing.

I was never a wife. I was an instrument. A bargaining chip in a game played long before I even knew the rules.

And now, I’m tired. Exhausted. My entire life has been a lie. A story written by men who only saw me as a move on a board. I don’t know who I can trust. I don’t know if anyone was ever on my side.

But if you’re reading this… you survived.

And that means there is still a chance.

You are stronger than they think. You always were. You are not their pawn. You have blood. You have breath. You have power. Fight for yourself. Fight for what they tried to steal from you.

You’ll know what to do next.

— Fioretta

It was signed and dated.

The words blur in front of me. The final sentence presses against my skull like a knife. My head throbs as though my brain is splitting in two.

You’ll know what to do next.

Suddenly, I do.

The world spins. My fingers tremble as I clutch the diary against my chest, breath shallow, heart pounding like a war drum inside my ribcage. And then—

It floods back.

The locked door in my mind cracks open.

I see Vittoria’s face first.

That icy smile.

Her perfume—roses and steel.

We were in the study. All of us. Vittoria perched like a queen on one of the high-backed chairs, Emilia hovering beside her like a shadow. Cassian standing stiff near the door, unreadable. And Serevin… standing across from me. Watching. Always watching.

“You’re very fortunate, Fioretta,” Vittoria had said, voice dripping with venom-laced honey. “There are men in this world who would discard a bastard child born in a brothel. And yet, you were given so much. A name. A family. An empire.”

I had barely breathed. My knees locked, every part of me frozen.

She leaned forward, fingers drumming on the mahogany desk. “Do you even know who you are, child?”

I shook my head then, tears burning behind my eyes, trying to hold myself together. She didn't wait for my answer. She never did.

“You are the spawn of Aurelio Accardi,” she whispered, like a priest delivering a benediction. “Born to a nameless whore in a back alley brothel. Gaspare bought you. Raised you like his own. But you—” she paused, her eyes flicking toward Serevin “—you were always a weapon. Your father’s last move against this family.”

My legs nearly gave out.

---