Father, Mother, and Luca immediately rushed to her side. Seeing the single bead of blood oozing from Bella’s fingertip, they panicked as if it were a fatal gunshot wound.

"Who sent this gift? Why didn't security check it?"

Mother's gaze swept the room, finally locking onto the black velvet box, which bore a card with my name on it.

"That box... is it Elena's?"

Bella immediately put on a face like she was about to cry: "Mom, please don't blame Sister. This gift was on my nightstand this morning. I was just so happy she was willing to give me a present, I never thought there would be razor blades hidden inside..."

Instantly, disappointment and rage filled the faces of Father and Luca.

"I knew it! This is why she's dragging her feet coming home. She was plotting to hurt Bella!"

"How could I have such a vicious sister? She is simply a disgrace to the family!"

"Enough! Stop arguing, get Bella to the private doctor immediately!" Father kicked the gift box away—the box Bella had stolen from my room and stuffed with blades herself—and slammed his hand on the table in fury.

"We're out of hemostatic gauze in the house. I'll go to the wine cellar to get the backup first aid kit," Luca said, turning to leave.

Bella's eyes darted nervously. She grabbed Luca's arm: "Don't go. The doctor has the best medicine. It hurts so much... Brother, will you stay with me?"

If Luca had taken one more step toward the wine cellar, he would have smelled the pungent scent of blood and gunpowder.

But it didn't happen.

Listening to Bella, the family hurried away, leaving only my soul drifting in the empty living room.

I wanted to scream, I wanted to say I didn't do anything.

But I could no longer speak.

I also knew that even if I could speak, they would never believe me.

Forget it.

The old butler, hearing the commotion, came out to clean up the mess and sighed.

"Miss Elena, why do you never learn to protect yourself?"

My soul drifted back to my room. Seeing the diary on the desk, a tide of memories surged.

When I was ten, the family held the decennial "Blood Oath" ceremony. That day determined every child's future status and role within the organization.

Luca was first. He displayed astonishing talent in combat and marksmanship, symbolizing strength and future leadership. Father looked at him, his pride undisguised.

When it was Bella's turn, although her physical abilities were average, she possessed extreme social aptitude, making the elders in attendance roar with laughter with just a few words. Mother held her, calling her the family's perfect diplomat.

Not wanting to disappoint my parents, I walked up to the oath platform full of expectation.

But when my test results came out, everyone fell silent.

I had neither superior martial force nor slick social skills. I had only a calm brain and a sensitivity to numbers.

"An accountant who can only count," Father had evaluated coldly. "Such people are everywhere in Sicily."

From that day on, I became the "mediocrity" of the family, someone not worth investing resources in. Even though I later orchestrated several perfect mergers that doubled the family assets, they remained convinced that force and charm were everything.

Luca and Bella enjoyed all the favoritism and resources.

And I, just like my identity as an "accountant"—

Was plain and unremarkable. A consumable that could be sacrificed, a pawn that could be discarded at any time.