The Cost of Castellano

Her words weren’t loud, but they ripped through my chest like a hollow-point.

I looked up, shoving him away from me.

I stared at him, hoping—no, begging—for him to say something. Anything.

But he just dropped his gaze to the floor, radiating pure guilt.

I pointed a trembling finger at Amber. "So it's true? You married her? Then what about me? What about our child? You’re going to abandon the heir to the Castellano and Romano bloodline to play daddy to some bastard who doesn’t even know his own father?"

Before I could finish, Amber burst into loud, theatrical sobs.

"My baby is not a bastard! He has a father!"

Grayson panicked.

And then—he slapped me.

The sound cracked through the quiet hallway. My cheek stung, hot and sharp.

He looked at me like I was a mess to be cleaned up. He pulled his hand back as if it wasn't him who'd just struck me.

His eyes were cold, filled with disgust. "Ophelia Romano, have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea how much you just hurt Amber?"

I didn’t know how much I’d hurt her. I only knew that Grayson was no longer the man I loved.

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, the metallic taste flooding my tongue.

Every single time, when it came to Amber, he lost control.

My voice cracked. "What do you want me to say? That my fiancé betrayed our engagement and abandoned our child for the woman who was with him when he was a nobody? Should I pop some champagne and celebrate?"

I couldn't hold it back anymore. My voice was shrill and raw.

Grayson paused—just for a second. Guilt flashed in his eyes.

Then his voice went flat, like he was closing a deal. "Amber isn't like you. She only has me. She can’t handle the gossip. You just have to wait, Ophelia. As soon as she has the baby, I'll marry you."

He pulled me into his arms, his calloused hands gripping my waist like it was a promise. "Trust me. In one year, I'll give you a wedding fit for a Principessa."

I didn’t say a word.

Just then, Amber cut in impatiently. "Grayson, I'm tired. Let's go home."

His body tensed. But he didn't hesitate.

He let me go, patted my head condescendingly, and walked away with her—leaving me standing there alone.

Watching them disappear, I finally understood. It’s not that hard to tell the difference between love and everything else.

After my appointment, I went home. Alone.

The mansion felt as cold and empty as a crypt.

I took a shower, crawled into bed, and let the weight of it all crush me.

Then the door creaked open. Grayson's tired voice floated in. "Your hair is wet. You'll get sick."

I didn't move.

He sighed, lifted me from the bed, and sat me down at my vanity.

The hairdryer hummed to life. His fingers threaded through my hair, gently drying it.

I remained silent.

"What's wrong? Still angry about today?" he asked. "Didn't I tell you I'd marry you after this is all over?"

He always knew exactly where to stick the knife.

He leaned in, his warm breath on my ear. "Don't test my patience, Ophelia. You know what happens when I'm pushed."

Goosebumps prickled my skin.

I pushed back. "And what if I say no?"

His face instantly darkened. "I'm not asking you—I'm telling you how it's going to be."

Then he softened his tone again, as if that would make it all better. "Amber has no one to take care of her. She only has me. I can't just leave her."

He grabbed a suitcase and started throwing his things inside.

It didn't take long.

He paused at the door and turned back. "She's very weak. I'm going to stay with her for a few days. Call me if you need anything."

The sound of the suitcase wheels rolling over the threshold echoed in the quiet room.

My tears finally fell.

So that was it. He knew who I was. He knew the entire Romano family stood behind me.

But he just didn't care.

Compared to Amber, I was nothing.