Chapter 2
On the first night back home from the hospital, I didn’t cry. The
tears had already been exhausted in that cold ward, leaving only
a dead heart and a simple thought: they would pay for this.
The next morning, I acted as if nothing had happened, putting
on that familiar light blue cardigan and walking into St.
Anthony’s Orphanage. The children gathered around me, their little faces filled with worry.
“Valentina Mama, where did you go?” Six–year–old Tommy
tugged at my skirt. “Sister said you were sick.”
I knelt down and gently stroked his messy blonde hair. “It’s
okay, baby. I’m fine now.”
My smile remained as gentle as the Virgin Mary’s.
“Today we’re going to read a Bible story, okay?” I gathered the children around the story corner and opened that heavy Bible. But instead of choosing the warm stories I usually told, I turned
to Exodus.
“God, to save his people, brought down ten plagues upon the evil Pharaoh.” My voice was soft as silk. “The plague of blood, the plague of frogs, the plague of lice…”
Tommy raised his little hand: “Valentina Mama, why does God punish bad people?”
I paused, looking into those innocent eyes. “Tommy, the wicked will pay for their sins.”
‘If God won’t punish you, then I’ll do it for Him.‘
After the story, I excused myself to get teaching materials and walked into the orphanage’s medicine storage room. The shelves were neatly arranged with various medicines and
herbs the nuns here still maintained traditional natural
remedies.
I found what I needed: an herb called “Baron’s Flower.” During medical school, the professor had mentioned its effects on the male reproductive system. A sufficient dose would gradually damage sperm quality without immediate death.
I carefully picked a few leaves and ground them in a mortar. The powder was fine as flour, almost colorless and tasteless.
In the afternoon, I went to clean the mansion. When I pushed open the master bedroom door, Isabella was trying on a newly bought silk nightgown. She had completely moved into this room that once belonged to me.
“Oh, Valentina.” When she saw me, embarrassment flashed across her face, quickly replaced by smugness. “Please help me organize the closet. These clothes are all too big. I need to buy a smaller size.”
‘Because you stole my life, bitch.‘
“Of course.” I lowered my head and began organizing those expensive clothes.
She hummed in the bathroom while bathing, the sound of water masking my searching. In the bedside table drawer, I found an exquisite leather diary.
My hands trembled as I opened the first page. Isabella’s elegant
handwriting came into view:
“First attempt. Mixed the medication into her vodka–laced wine
tonight. The timing had to be perfect – not too obvious, but effective enough. She lasted nearly three hours before losing
the baby. Dominick held my hand afterward, thanking me for
being such a comfort during her ‘difficult time.‘ He believes
every word I say. His devotion is almost touching, if it weren’t
so easily manipulated.”
Continuing to the next page:
“Second attempt wasn’t as clean as I’d hoped. Her constitution
is stronger than I anticipated. Had to maintain the concerned sister–in–law act for weeks. Sometimes I catch myself wondering
if there’s another way, but then I remember what’s at stake.”
made me almost unable to breathe:
“Dominick will understand that I’m what this family needs.”
Three children. My three children. Each one killed by her own
hands.
“Valentina?” Isabella suddenly appeared at the bathroom door,
hair dripping wet, wrapped only in a bath towel. “What are you
doing?”
I quickly closed the diary and pretended to arrange the bed sheets. “Just changing the bed sheets.”
She looked at me suspiciously but didn’t say much. “Alright,
remember to take those old sheets to wash.”
“Of course.” I held the sheets, my expression remaining as calm
as still water.
Dinner time arrived. I volunteered to cook, preparing dinner for this family.
Dominick’s favorite Italian risotto and red wine. I prepared each step carefully as before, but this time I added something special
to the red wine.
The Baron’s Flower powder was colorless and tasteless,
completely invisible in the deep red wine. I calculated the
dosage–it wouldn’t kill him immediately, but would slowly and irreversibly destroy his most important ability as a man.
“Smells wonderful.” Dominick said as he entered the dining
room. “You’re finally back to normal, Valentina.”
“Yes.” I set the table for him and Isabella, smiling as I said, “I
now completely understand what’s most important for the
family.”
He raised his wine glass: “Valentina, you finally understand.
Family interests are indeed more important than personal
emotions.”
I watched him drink that poisoned wine, a dark satisfaction
rising in my heart. “I hope you enjoy this dinner.”
Isabella smiled smugly: “See, I told you Valentina is a smart
woman. Now we can focus on working for the family’s future.”
‘Enjoy this wine, it’s the communion I’ve prepared for you.‘
I stood in the corner of the dining room, watching them enjoy my carefully prepared “loving dinner,” but my heart was cold as ice. Every bite of food, every sip of wine, was the beginning of my revenge plan.
Dominick praised the taste of the risotto, and Isabella
complained that her new ring was too loose. They looked so
normal, so happy, like a truly loving couple.
Late at night, I returned to my small room in the basement. The
crucifix on the wall cast long shadows in the dim light. I knelt by
the bed and took out the diary I had “borrowed” from Isabella.
Page by page, I reread the detailed descriptions of my children’s
deaths. Every cold plan, every successful “accident,” every time
she pretended to care about me.
Tears dropped onto the words “Virgin Mary bitch,” causing the
ink to slightly blur.
I gripped the crucifix at my chest and whispered a vow: “In the name of the Virgin Mary, I will make you pay a thousandfold.”
God might not avenge me, but the devil would.
And I had already decided to become that devil.