He stops in front of me, so close I smell his cologne—rich, expensive, suffocating.
“You walk out that door, little girl?” His voice is gentle, and it makes my heart trip over itself.
This is it. The final test. The moment when I’m supposed to break.
He leans in slightly, his next words spoken just for me. “You’re dead to me.”
No money. No safety net. No family. Nothing.
The floor tilts beneath me, the weight of my entire life pressing against my ribs, trying to suffocate me.
But then Luca shifts, smirking like he’s already claimed his prize, and something inside me snaps.
I straighten my spine. “Then I guess you’ll have to find another daughter.”
And then I turn around and take one step.
“You don’t get a choice!”
The office shakes with the force of his rage, his voice slamming into me like a physical blow. A sharp crack echoes as his palm collides with the surface of his desk, rattling the glass of whiskey.
I freeze. Not because he scared me, more like because this is the moment I always knew was coming. Slowly, I turn back around.
My father takes measured breaths, but his eyes burn with cold, livid fury. He’s always been a man of control, of power. He doesn’t lose his temper—not unless he’s already decided to destroy something.
And right now? That something is me.
“You are a disgrace,” he jeers. “Running around like a street rat, embarrassing this family with your… what, your underdeveloped body and plain face? Your little science projects? Your ridiculous career?”
A career I built from nothing.
A career I fought for while he mocked it, dismissed it, and refused to see me as anything but a wasted investment.
The words land exactly where he aims them—right in the tender, stupid place that still wants him to be proud of me. I’ve spent years pretending those words no longer sting. They do.
I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste blood. “It’s not a project. It’s my life.”
My father exhales through his nose, like I’m the most exhausting person he’s ever dealt with.
“You are a Marino.” His voice is low, vibrating with tightly leashed fury. “And Marinos do not waste time on childish ambitions. We do not disgrace our family with wild, stubborn rebellion. We look the part. Wearethe part. A woman with no discipline is a liability,” he murmurs, almost regretful. “You should have been easier to mold. From this moment forward, you will be.”
Luca chuckles beside him. I can feel his amusement before I even look at him—lazy, self-satisfied. His eyes track every flinch, every inhale, filing them away under “weaknesses I plan to use later.”
“Come on, Minnie,” he drawls, stepping forward. “You were promised to me. Why are you making this so hard?”
I hate when he calls me that.
He reaches for me—his fingers brushing against my elbow, too familiar, too possessive—and I jerk away.
His smirk fades.
I lift my chin. “Because I don’t want you. I don’t even like you.”
A slow, dangerous shift darkens Luca’s face. He doesn’t like being denied as much as my father doesn’t like being defied.
Dad’s gaze sharpens. “You think you’re walking away from this family?”
“I know I am.”
