QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)-Chapter 126: I refuse

Chapter 126

Daphne POV

Sitting across from me is Mrs. Vice President—my oldest sister and the peak model of what a Castellano lady is supposed to be.

She’s so skinny she looks like she might snap in half, and her face doesn’t even move anymore with the amount of cosmetic work she’s had done. Which is strange, considering she should only be in her early thirties. But that’s Fiorella—polished to perfection, sculpted by the expectations of a family that eats its women alive and calls them lucky.

She’s everything a Castellano daughter should be: obedient, poised, married for politics, and miserable. Maybe she’s nice. Maybe she’s not. I wouldn’t know. We’ve never gotten along, mostly because of her transparent disdain for me.

Even now, it’s obvious in her expression—or at least I think it is. It’s always hard to tell with her face frozen halfway between pity and contempt.

"I’m sure you’ve noticed the current state of our family," she says, voice smooth as polished glass.

"Yes. Such unrest," I reply, leaning back in my chair.

She places her perfectly manicured hand on the table and reaches for mine.

I move it away quickly.

No thanks.

"You should know it’s time to get married," she begins, and I already feel the migraine bloom behind my eyes.

"Stop," I say, cutting her off.

"I refuse."

Marriage this, marriage that, marriage, marriage, marriage, marriage what’s with the fucking obsession with marriage?!

It’s now grating on my nerves. In the bad kind, in the bad I want to shoot people kind, actually too easy fight and then kill, like physically from my hand.

She stiffens. "You cannot refuse. You’re a Castellano. It’s tradition."

"It might have been," I say, tapping my fingers on the table, "but ultimately Castellano is a family based on benefit. Why do you think Father let me be?"

"In this new world, your actions abroad—they made us seem forward-thinking. But Castellano is traditional," she says.

I laugh. A real laugh.

"You think Don Valentino Castellano left me alone because of a few LGBT charities?"

Her jaw clenches.

"Sister, you’ve spent your life like any other Castellano woman. You’ve bowed, submitted, married into a strategic alliance, played the part perfectly. Good for you. But have you noticed something? No one treats me like the rest of you. Because—even if they hate it—my contributions are immeasurable."

"You—" she starts.

"I’m not done," I interrupt.

"Let me finish. I opened the Asian underground market. Something no one else could do. My visibility as an LGBT philanthropist has benefited literally every politician tied to Castellano—including your husband. The new version of the drug running these past two years? I had my hand in that too. Father hated it. Luciano hates it. But my influence is undeniable."

I lean forward.

"In just a few years, I’ve brought in billions. I’ve unlocked new markets. No one—has contributed what I have, in this generation. And even if I hadn’t? I still wouldn’t get married. I would literally rather die."

I stand.

"I’m not like you. I never will be. Like Father, like Luciano, you’re going to have to swallow the bitter pill."

I smooth my jacket.

"Also—just so we’re clear—I will do everything in my power to make sure Luciano never becomes Don. I like my life the way it is. So stop wasting your breath."

And I walk away.

Honestly maybe, I would have another opinion, if in there marriage talks it was a woman....

***

Fiorella POV

My hands tremble as I flip the delicate tea table, porcelain shattering across the tile. I ignore the servants rushing in.

I’ve never liked that bitch.

Unlike the other four, I’m from Father’s first wife—the one who died in an accident. Realistically, collateral damage in a hit meant for him. Before, I hated Daphne because she was the precious youngest child, the darling he actually cared for. He treated me like set dressing.

I did everything right. I dressed as I was told. I married who I was told. I smiled through humiliation, through betrayal, through the pain of living in a cage dressed up as a throne.

And still—it was never enough.

But the past few years have turned that jealousy into something sharper.

I remember..

-

"Father, I have a list of suitable candidates for Daphne’s partner," I said, placing the folder on his desk.

He flipped through the names, scoffed, and tossed it aside.

"These men are subpar. She’s busy right now."

I blinked. "What could be more important than marriage?"

"Fiorella," he said slowly, "unlike you, the girl is smart. Dare I say—smarter than your brother." He laughed at his own joke.

I saw Luciano clench his jaw.

"I know about the type men you’ve tried to match her with. The violent ones. You think I don’t see that? You think I’d hand over my most valuable piece to some fool just to appease tradition?"

He leaned forward, his gaze like acid.

"This is the last time you bring this up. Renzo already made a mess. Go cut some ribbons and look pretty. Distract the press."

--

To this day, that memory still burns—hotter than the shame I swallowed, deeper than the scars I was expected to wear with pride.

He called her the most valuable piece.

Not his first daughter. Not the one who followed every rule. Not the one who sat still while the men barked, who married who she was told, who smiled through betrayal and bore humiliation like a badge of honor.

Not me.

No, it was the girl who was allowed to speak out. To roam. To build. To become.

The one who made noise.

The one who refused to bleed quietly for this family.

And now she dares to spit on all of it. On me. On everything I gave up, everything I buried, everything I became so the family could stand tall.

Before, I only wanted her humbled.

Now I want her crushed.

And I’m going to make sure Luciano knows.

I will remind him that she cannot be trusted. That she’s already declared war on him.

I fix my hair in the shattered reflection of the tea tray.

She thinks she’s untouchable.

But no Castellano is ever truly safe.