A Monster's Little Principessa

On the seventh day of my confinement to the guest room, I woke before sunrise to the clamor of furniture being moved outside my door.

I opened the door to a chaotic hallway, where several men were carrying an antique vanity table downstairs.

That vanity had been a gift from Dante for my eighteenth birthday.

Back then, he had smiled and said, "My little principessa deserves only the best."

Just as I was about to step forward, I saw Isabella standing at the door of my room, holding a white poodle and directing the maids to move the white baby crib.

I had personally designed that crib when I was pregnant with my first child; I had spent three whole months painting the murals on it.

Every brushstroke on the bumper pads, every little angel, was filled with my hopes for them.

At the time, I had imagined our baby lying in it, listening to Dante tell them stories.

"Don't touch that!" I lunged forward, only to be seized by two bodyguards.

They were incredibly strong; I thrashed, but their grip was iron.

Isabella turned around, deliberately holding the dog higher for me to see.

A smug smile stretched across her face, her voice cloying. "Elara, why so angry? Dante said this room will be mine from now on, so your things naturally have to be cleared out."

She bent down and carefully placed the poodle into the crib.

The little dog pawed at the paintings, destroying all the little angels I had so painstakingly created.

"Oh, right," she said, as if suddenly remembering, and looked up at me with eyes full of malice.

"Dante also said we could get rid of this crib."

"It's a perfect dog bed for my puppy. That way, it won't go to waste. It can keep him warm."

I violently broke free from the bodyguards' grasp. "That's my child's crib! It was for my baby! How dare you…"

"We'll see if I dare, won't we?" Isabella sauntered over and deliberately slammed her shoulder into me.

I staggered back two steps, my lower back hitting the railing hard.

"Elara, you can't even keep a child. None of these things are yours anymore."

"Besides, so what if it was for your child? A doomed thing that died before it was even born. How can it compare to my future son?"

Her words were like shards of glass in my heart. Just as I was about to retort, I saw Dante approaching.

He was holding a velvet box, inside which was a pair of diamond cufflinks.

I had secretly saved up my allowance for half a year to buy him that birthday present.

I still remembered when he received it. He had smiled, stroked my hair, and said, "My little principessa is the most thoughtful."

But now, he didn't even glance at me. He walked straight to Isabella and handed her the velvet box. "Isabella," he said, his voice soft, "you mentioned you liked these cufflinks yesterday. I had them customized for you. Take a look. Do you like them?"

Isabella took the box, glanced inside, and immediately stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "Dante, I love them! You're wonderful!"

"They'll be perfect as a charm for my puppy's collar!"

"As long as you like them." Dante reached out and gently stroked her hair, the affection in his eyes practically overflowing.

It was as if he had just remembered my existence. He turned his head to look at me, his gaze instantly turning cold. "Elara, the butler said you still haven't packed your things."

"I'll give you half an hour. If I see a single one of your things on this floor in half an hour, or if you dare cause trouble with Isabella again, I'll throw out all of this junk."

He called the things I had prepared for our child "junk."

I watched the tender way he touched her and suddenly laughed.

Without another word, I turned and retreated to the guest room.

The moment the door closed, I pulled a sharpened letter opener from under the mattress.

The blade caught the light, glinting with the same cold fury that burned in my eyes.

I’ve always lived by one rule: if I can't have it, no one can.