Chapter 5 The Valerio Gates

• Ninette's POV
• My finger hovered over the intercom button, trembling. Just one inch of space between my hand and everything I'd lost.
• I pulled back, took a breath and looked up.
• Wrought-iron gates stretched twelve feet high, topped with gold-tipped spears that gleamed in the afternoon sun. Beyond them, a sprawling mansion that looked like something out of a fucking fairy tale with manicured lawns, marble fountains and windows that probably cost more than I'd made in my entire life.
• This was supposed to be mine. This life. This house. This family.
• Instead, I got Damien and a cramped apartment and a best friend who fucked my husband in our bed.
• The DNA results felt like they were burning through the envelope I clutched. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. I'd barely slept, kept waking up seeing Damien's face, hearing Tessa's moans, feeling that soul-crushing moment when they just kept going while I stood there screaming.
• And now I was here, about to tell a woman who didn't know I existed that I was her real daughter.
• Fuck my life.
• I jabbed the call button before I could chicken out.
• "Valerio residence." A man's voice came, bored and professional.
• "I need to speak to Seraphina Valerio." My voice shook. Get it together, Ninette. "It's about her daughter."
• Silence. Then: "Hold please."
• I waited. My stomach twisted itself into knots. A jogger passed behind me, giving me a weird look. Yeah, I probably looked unhinged in unwashed hair, same clothes from yesterday, standing outside a mansion like some kind of stalker.
• Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should just leave, go back to that hotel room, figure out my life without dragging these people into my mess.
• But where would I even go? I had $340 in my bank account. No job. No home. No one who gave a shit if I lived or died.
• The intercom crackled. "Someone will come down to speak with you."
• The line cut off.
• Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. My feet hurt in these stupid heels. My head throbbed from yesterday's migraine mixed with tequila and trauma.
• Finally, I saw someone walking down the long driveway. Not Seraphina; I'd looked her up online. This was a younger woman in a sleek gray pantsuit, hair pulled back so tight it probably hurt, carrying a tablet like a weapon.
• She stopped on the other side of the gate, didn't open it. Just looked at me through the bars like I was something that needed to be dealt with quickly and efficiently.
• "Can I help you?" Her voice was professional and dismissive.
• "I need to speak to Seraphina Valerio." I held up the envelope. "I have DNA results that…"
• "Mrs. Valerio has asked me to inform you that she already has a daughter." The woman didn't even blink. "She requests that you do not contact this family again."
• The words hit me like a slap.
• My throat tightened. "Can you please tell her…"
• "Mrs. Valerio was made aware of your claims. She's declining to meet with you. I'm going to have to ask you to leave the property."
• "I'm not on the property. I'm on the fucking sidewalk." My voice was rising. "And these aren't claims. This is proof. Scientific proof that I'm her biological daughter, that someone switched us at birth…"
• "Ma'am, I understand you're upset, but…"
• "Upset?" I laughed, and it came out slightly hysterical. "My husband fucked my best friend in our bed. I lost my job. I found out my entire identity is a lie. And now the woman who's actually my mother won't even talk to me. Yeah, I'm a little fucking upset."
• Her expression didn't change. "I'm sorry for your troubles, but Mrs. Valerio has made her position clear. If you continue to harass this family, we'll be forced to contact the police."
• "Harass?" My hands gripped the gate bars, knuckles white. "I just want to talk to her. Five minutes. That's all I'm asking…"
• "Goodbye, Ms. Cole."
• She turned and walked away. Just like that. Turned her back on me and headed up that perfect driveway toward that perfect house where my fucking perfect life was supposed to be.
• "Wait!" My voice cracked. "Please! I'm not asking for money, I just need answers…"
• She kept walking. Never looked back.
• I stood there, watching her disappear into the mansion, and felt something break inside my chest. Not the sharp, violent pain of finding Damien with Tessa. This was slower like a bone fracturing under too much weight.
• She already has a daughter. She requests that you do not contact this family again.
• Translation: we don't want you. Biology doesn't matter. You're not convenient, so fuck off.
• A car slowed as it passed, the driver openly staring. I realized I was crying, tears streaming down my face while I gripped these stupid gold-tipped gates like they were the only thing holding me up.
• I should leave, walk away with whatever dignity I had left.
• But I couldn't make my feet move.
• Twenty more minutes passed. My legs started to shake. The security guard at the gatehouse kept glancing at me, hand on his radio.
• Finally, he stepped out of his booth.
• "Ma'am, I'm going to need you to move along now."
• I looked at him. He was just doing his job. And I was just another person who wasn't wanted here.
• "Yeah," I said, my voice hollow. "I'm going."
• The hotel was a forty-minute walk, but I couldn't afford another cab. My feet screamed in these heels, but the pain felt good and real. Something to focus on besides the absolute devastation of my life.
• By the time I reached my hotel room, it was late afternoon. I kicked off my shoes, collapsed on the bed fully clothed, and pulled out my phone.
• I needed to understand who Celeste Valerio was. The woman living my life.
• The first photo made my breath catch. Celeste at a charity gala, platinum blonde hair swept up, sharp green eyes, model-thin in a dress that probably cost more than a car. Seraphina's arm around her shoulders. Both of them smiling for the cameras.
• The daughter she chose to keep.
• I scrolled to the next photo. My hands were shaking so badly the screen blurred.
• Celeste graduating from Yale. Seraphina beaming with pride.
• That should have been me.
• Another photo. Celeste at the Met Gala, diamond necklace at her throat, laughing at something off-camera.
• My stomach twisted. I gripped the phone so hard my knuckles went white.
• Celeste launching some fashion initiative. Celeste at an art opening. Celeste, Celeste, Celeste.
• Living my life. Loved by my mother. Being part of a family that should have been mine.
• A tear splashed onto the screen. Then another.
• What did I get? Dead parents who weren't even my parents. A husband who fucked my best friend. A biological mother who wouldn't even open the gate.
• My phone buzzed with an email. Patricia, my lawyer.
• Subject line: "URGENT - Damien's Legal Action."
• My heart dropped. I opened it with shaking hands.
• Ninette,
• Damien has filed a motion claiming you've been staying at a hotel and charging expenses to your joint credit card without his permission. He's alleging theft of marital assets and demanding you vacate immediately. He wants you arrested.
• The words swam. I had to read them twice.
• I know this sounds extreme, but he has a case if you've been using joint accounts. You need to leave that hotel NOW and find somewhere else to stay. If the police show up, do not engage. Call me immediately.
• Also, his lawyer just sent over his witness list for the divorce proceedings. Tessa is on it. So are three of your former coworkers. They're building a narrative that you were unstable and abusive throughout the marriage.
• We need to talk. Call me when you get this.
• Patricia
• I read it again. And again. Each time, the words got worse.
• Bank account: $340.
• Credit card: maxed.
• This hotel room: no longer affordable. No longer legal.
• Nowhere to go. No money. No job. No family.
• I was completely, utterly fucked.
• The phone in the room buzzed. I almost didn't answer.
• "Hello?"
• "Ms. Cole?" The receptionist's voice, professional and careful. "There's someone here in the lobby asking to see you. He says it's urgent."
• My heart stopped. "Who?"
• "He didn't give his name, ma'am. But he's quite insistent. Should I send him away?"
• I should say yes.
• But curiosity and desperation made me reckless.
• "I'll be right down."
• I dragged myself off the bed, splashed cold water on my face and tried to make myself look less like death.
• I failed spectacularly.
• The elevator ride down felt like descending into hell. Each floor brought me closer to whatever fresh nightmare was waiting.
• The doors opened.
• And there he was.
• Standing by the windows overlooking the street, wearing a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. Looking like he'd stepped out of my dirtiest dreams and into my waking nightmare.
• The stranger from that night. The man who'd made me forget my pain for a few perfect hours. Who'd disappeared without a trace.
• His storm-gray eyes locked onto mine across the lobby.
• My breath stopped. My heart forgot how to beat properly.
• A shiver ran down my spine as my body remembered. His hands on my skin. His mouth on my…
• No. Don't think about that. Don't…
• He started walking toward me, and the world narrowed to just the two of us.
• "Ninette," he said, his voice that same deep rumble that had whispered filthy things in my ear. "We need to talk."