The Succession Gala They Forgot Was Mine Too

My twin sister and I were supposed to celebrate our succession on the same night. Beth Moretti would inherit the family's weapons business in Naples. Her portrait towered over the banquet hall on a massive screen as the elders gathered around her, showering her with praise. Our parents, Vincent Moretti and Elena Moretti, couldn't have looked prouder. "Beth has always been exceptional. She was at the top of her class, won countless awards, and was already managing the family stables at eighteen." I stood alone in the corner, completely ignored. By the time anyone remembered me, the gala was almost over. One of the elders happened to spot me. "What about Monica? What will she be taking over?" My parents froze. For a moment, neither of them had an answer. Beth gave a small laugh. "Nothing important, I think?" Everyone laughed with her. I kept quiet. I had apparently been put in charge of the family armory, though no one had even bothered to tell me themselves. My father finally looked my way. "At least she stays out of trouble. That's good enough." Of course I stayed out of trouble. They had sent me to boarding school when I was four and left me to grow up on my own. I learned early how to take care of myself because no one else would. During school breaks, my parents would take Beth on vacation while I stayed behind. To them, I had always been the daughter they could forget. So yes, I was easy. I had learned a long time ago not to expect anything from them. After the gala, I went looking for my family. They were nowhere to be found. Then I learned they had already gone home with Beth. I took a deep breath, pulled up the Turner family's invitation from two months ago, and typed, "I accept." Then I booked the earliest flight out. This family had forgotten me for years. Now they could forget me for good. Chapter 1 The gala had barely ended when my parents hurriedly sent Beth off to Naples, saying they wanted her to settle in before taking up her new post. Before they left, my mother carefully checked everything off a list with the household staff. Besides clothes, jewelry, and toiletries, they had bought her piles of brand-new things. They had even bought her a fully staffed villa in Naples to make sure she would be comfortable. The hall was so packed with her belongings that there was barely room to walk. I stood in a corner with my backpack over my shoulder. My mother brushed past me. "Don't just stand there. Move. Your sister might forget something because of you." I didn't say anything. After more than twenty years, everything I owned still fit in a single backpack. "Can the driver take me first? My flight leaves at two." My mother acted as though she hadn't heard me. She continued checking Beth's makeup. "You have dinners to attend and important people to meet as soon as you arrive. Book a stylist in advance." The father had the box moved onto the vehicle and glanced at his watch and said to me, "Why are you in such a hurry? You still have plenty of time and won't be late." The mother chimed in, "Your sister hasn't even finished packing her things. The whole family should think of each other." I said nothing more. My younger sister has always been favored by her parents since childhood. After all, her strengths combined all the virtues of her parents. Her academic performance has consistently ranked among the top in the college. She is intelligent and lovely. The elders of the family especially like her. Therefore, the parents' attention is always focused on her. Beth's first-class ticket had been booked before the succession gala. Her villa in Naples had been purchased and renovated long ago. My parents planned to go with her and help her settle in early. They would introduce her to the right people so she could establish herself there. Yet from start to finish, no one asked where I was going. They didn't know what job the family had assigned me. All they knew was that it was in Milan. No one even asked how I planned to get there. Once Beth's luggage was loaded into the car, my father opened the rear door for her. My mother went back inside for her bag. As she put on her shoes, she looked up at me. "The flowers need watering, and remember to take your sister's clothes to the cleaners. Remember to have meals at home by yourself. Do whatever you want to eat by yourself.We don't have time. Forget about you for now." With that, she hurried out to the car. The rear window rolled down. From the doorway, I watched Beth smile sweetly and wave. "We are leaving now, Monica." I forced a smile back. Then I stood there and watched the car disappear down the drive. The vast estate fell silent. I stood on the steps and looked over the flower beds: my father's olive tree, my mother's hydrangeas, and Beth's roses, all sprouting new growth. Even the garden table had only three chairs. The sight brought back a memory from a few years earlier. School had closed for vacation, and my roommates had locked me out. They shoved me into the pool and refused to let me back into the dorm. With nowhere else to go, I returned home in soaking clothes. I found the three of them having afternoon tea in the garden. I walked into their peaceful afternoon, dripping wet. Beth's favorite cake sat on the table. One look at their faces told me I didn't belong there. All three looked annoyed. My father frowned. "Why did you not call before coming home?" The mother said, "You came back unexpectedly. We had reserved a meal for three people for tonight. What are we supposed to do?" Beth chimed in. "Monica, you should have called first. Showing up like this puts Mom and Dad in an awkward position, doesn't it?" I frowned at the absurdity of it. No one asked whether I had eaten or why I had come home. No one asked why my clothes were soaked. To them, my coming home was nothing but an inconvenience. Chapter 2 I found more than dirty clothes when I entered Beth's room. One entire wall was covered with trophies from dance competitions and research contests. Our parents had even placed a small plaque in front of each one. Each plaque listed the date of Beth's win and how old she was. A large family portrait hung among the trophies. I wasn't in it. On the day it was taken, my mother had taken Beth out early for hair and makeup. When they reached the car, she realized Beth had forgotten her hat. I ran upstairs to get it. By the time I came back down, they had already driven away. When the photo came out, the father said, "It's okay. The family members don't recognize you. Taking a group photo now doesn't make sense. Wait until we get you acquainted with the family members, and then we'll take a photo together." I averted my gaze and didn't look again. The promise made by the father has not been fulfilled yet. A notice about the family's firearm assignments for members who had come of age lay on the desk. I still remembered the day we received ours. My mother had accepted the letter and chosen both guns herself. When she handed them over, Beth's was brand-new, with her name engraved on the barrel. She couldn't put it down. My mother smiled and said, "I picked this one especially for you and had the gunsmith engrave your name on it." When I looked down at mine, dried blood still stained the barrel. No one had even bothered to clean it. My mother merely said, "There are no good guns left. All that's left is this one with blood on it. It might have been left by the previous owner. It's a bit dirty, but if you clean it up properly, it can still be used." Later, when she sent a thank-you letter, only Beth's name appeared at the top. I scrubbed the gun clean and packed it in my backpack. I would take it to Milan as a reminder never to look back. After gathering Beth's laundry, I went back to my room to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. I left the old fountain pen she'd given me on the desk. The certificates and trophies I'd packed away in a box could stay too. I had forgotten nothing. Only then did I sling my backpack over my shoulder and leave. After dropping the laundry off, I called a car. Right then, my mother sent a text. "Pay the cleaner. I'll reimburse you later.Remember to have a meal. " I didn't reply. I switched off my phone and got into the car. I didn't turn it on again until I was in the departure lounge. A social media post popped up about another Moretti daughter who had been assigned to escort weapons shipments in Southeast Asia. Before leaving, she had posted photos of the equipment her parents had prepared for her. There were more than a dozen sets of specialized body armor alone. I closed the post. Beth had sent two messages. "Monica, have you left yet? Let me know when you arrive." "Stay safe." I read them and didn't reply. I switched off my phone again and boarded my flight to Milan. Three hours later, I landed without incident. The Turner family's underboss had sent someone to meet me and help arrange my accommodations. The man who met me stared at my lone backpack. He blinked in surprise. "That's all you brought? It's fine. Everything you need is already waiting for you. Actually, you could have arrived empty-handed. You will have to take care of yourself in Milan, though." I smiled without answering. I had taken care of myself all my life. I was used to it. They put me in a villa on the outskirts of the city. A private club nearby would be my first assignment. Running it would teach me how the Turner family operated. I turned down the staff they had arranged because I preferred the quiet. On the first morning, I made toast. In the family group chat, Beth posted a photo of a healthy meal our mother had cooked for her. A few days later, the unfamiliar climate left me bedridden with a cold. More photos filled the group chat. Our parents were taking Beth to dinners and introducing her to socialites and politicians. She was surrounded by people, and our parents' faces were full of pride. No one asked whether I had made it to Milan. No one asked where I was living or whether I had enough money. No one asked if I was carrying a gun to protect myself. That evening, the assistant assigned to help me learn the job came to the villa and found me pale, weak, and drenched in sweat. She immediately called a private doctor. Chapter 3 After the doctor left, my assistant asked, "Why didn't you tell anyone you were sick?" "I'm used to it." I would've been fine. I'd always slept off my colds before. She looked surprised but didn't press the issue. "Your parents will worry if they find out. Call them and let them know you're okay." "They're busy. They went to Naples with my sister for her new assignment." "What's she doing in Naples?" "Running the family weapons operation." Surprise crossed my assistant's face again. She hesitated, then said, "One day, you can too." I knew what she meant. One day, I could be where Beth was. Just not yet. I said nothing more and went to sleep. When I woke up in the middle of the night, dozens of messages were waiting in the family group chat. Don Dominic Turner had praised Beth soon after she took over the weapons operation. My mother was thrilled. She had sent more than a dozen voice messages, reminding Beth to be careful and always have bodyguards with her. She also told Beth to get enough rest and eat properly. She even promised to hire a professional nutritionist to prepare her meals. My father had sent just as many messages, all saying pretty much the same thing. The chat was full of their concern for Beth. Neither of them had even asked if I'd made it to Milan. My mother hadn't sent me a single message after they left for Naples. I put my phone away and threw myself into work. A few days later, Beth messaged me again. "Monica, it's Mom's birthday. Look at the dress I'm getting her. Do you think she'll like it?" A photo followed. It was a white dress with a bow at the neckline and lace along the hem, exactly the kind of style Mom loved. I was still deciding whether to reply when another message popped up. "What are you getting her? Are you coming back to Sicily for her birthday?" I stared at the message for a long time. It was Mom's birthday. I should get her something. "The dress looks lovely. I won't be back." After replying, I went to the mall to buy Mom a gift. She loved diamonds, so I chose a diamond necklace and had it sent to the estate. On her birthday, I texted her. "Happy birthday. Work is keeping me busy. I will celebrate with you next year." She replied almost immediately. "All right." That was all. That night, I saw a photo she'd posted. My parents stood together. My mother wore the dress Beth had bought her and a necklace from the year before. Fireworks lit up the sky above the estate behind them. The caption read, "The dress my daughter bought fits perfectly. Best birthday ever." Beth replied underneath, "As long as you are happy, Mom. I wish I could have been there with you." I closed the post and didn't look again. Mom had never cared much for the gifts I gave her. Over the years, only Beth's birthday presents were displayed in her bedroom. And the things I gave her, she would always say she liked them, but she would have the maid put them away at random. By then, I was used to it. After that, I stopped checking for news about my family. I only saw whatever showed up in the group chat. Most of what I heard about Beth was another award or another compliment. Whenever something good happened to her, my parents announced it to everyone, praised her publicly, and promised her another reward. I started ignoring the notifications. Instead, I focused entirely on my work. Two months passed that way. I did so well running the club that I was promoted to core operations. For the first time, the Turner family trusted me with their confidential files. I handled them all with extreme care. The Don even assigned me to mentor his heir, Dante Turner, and prepare him to lead. Work kept me so busy that when I finally had time to catch my breath, I realized no one had posted in the family group chat for three days. Before I could give it much thought, the Don sent Dante and me to Southeast Asia to negotiate a weapons deal. Just before our flight, my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number. Chapter 4 A woman's voice came through the phone. "Hello? Is this Monica Moretti, Beth's sister?" I frowned. "Who is this?" "Beth was caught in a firefight while escorting a weapons shipment and was badly wounded. The doctors have stabilized her, but she's still in danger. She doesn't want us to call your parents and worry them, so she asked me to tell you." I froze. My heart sank at the news. "How is she?" I demanded. "She took two bullets to the shoulder. The wounds have been treated. She asked me to tell you she's fine and not to worry." "All right." I hung up. For a moment, I just stood there in the departure lounge, my mind blank. Beth had been badly wounded. But instead of telling our parents, she'd had someone call me. She wanted to keep them from worrying. Apparently, it didn't matter if I worried. It had always been like this. Whenever there was something difficult to deal with, I was the one she turned to. I struggled with the thought for a long time before calling back. Beth answered, sounding perfectly calm. "Monica." "What happened to you?" "Nothing. There was a small clash during an operation. It isn't serious." "If it isn't serious, why tell me?" My cold tone seemed to catch her off guard. After a moment, she said quietly, "Mom and Dad fuss over me if I even skip a meal. If they knew I'd been shot, they'd panic. I didn't want to burden them." Her voice dropped to a murmur. My grip tightened on the phone. "But it's fine to burden me? I'm busy. Can you stop bothering me over something this trivial?" The resentment I'd buried for years suddenly came pouring out. Beth fell silent, stunned. "No. I just thought I should tell you because we're family. If something had happened to me, you could have told Mom and Dad." "But nothing happened to you, did it?" My tone sharpened. Even I was startled by how harsh I sounded. Maybe I'd kept everything bottled up for too long, and Beth had simply become the person I finally exploded at. I ended the call before she could say anything else. After I hung up, my chest felt tight and my eyes stung. The feeling stayed with me even after Dante and I boarded the plane. I stared out the window, feeling as if a heavy weight were pressing down on my chest. It wasn't really because of the call. The call had only confirmed what I'd known all along. There was no place for me in that family. A few days later, my mother called me. It was the first time she'd called since she and Dad took Beth to Naples. After answering the call, the mother said, "Christmas is approaching. Beth said she would come back with us to celebrate Christmas. You should come back too." The mother didn't give me any chance to negotiate; she had already decided that I would definitely go back. I was silent for a moment. "I don't have time." "How can you not have time? Your job isn't even part of the core business." I paused and let out a breath. "I'm busy." "Alright then. If you don't want to come back, it's up to you. You always act this way, not caring about your family. This year, your Christmas present can only go to your sister. I'll make up for it for you next year." "Okay." I ended the call without another word. In 25 years, 20 of my Christmas presents had been freebies that came with Beth's gifts. For the past few years, I had spent Christmas at school. Eventually, even those freebies started going to Beth. The gifts meant nothing to me. Dante and I stayed in Turin until just before Christmas. I booked his flight back to Milan and saw him off at the airport. He asked, "Aren't you coming back?" I shook my head. "I want to spend the holiday in Turin." So I stayed. Turin or Milan, it made no difference to me. I'd never liked Christmas anyway. Before Christmas Eve, my mother posted another photo of the three of them on social media. Beth stood in the middle, smiling and holding a stuffed animal. My parents stood on either side of her with their arms around her. They looked like a happy family. On Christmas Eve, Dante was the only person outside the family group chat who sent me a greeting. My family didn't even remember me. I stared at the screen in silence and took a deep breath. Then I left the family group chat. After that, I blocked all three of them. The whole thing took less than a minute. When it was done, I felt lighter than I had in years. The invisible weight I'd been carrying was finally gone. At that same moment, Beth was posting another photo. She suddenly noticed that the member count at the top of the group chat had dropped from four to three. Beth frowned and said, "Monica left the group." She opened our private chat. Mom and Dad were sitting beside her eating fruit. As soon as they heard her, they came over. She typed, "Monica, why did you leave the group?" The message had gone through, but there was no reply.