He and Elena exchange a knowing look, and I can see the curiosity burning in their eyes. They want to know more, to understand me. And so, with a heavy heart, I begin to recount the painful chapters of my past, from the loss of my mother to the betrayal of my brother.
“Quindi è una vendetta,”Which means this is all about revenge, Ferdinando observes.
The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, each syllable laden with unspoken meaning. “No, what he took off is priceless.”
I feel a pang of regret shoot through me like a bolt of lightning.Leila. The name echoes in my mind, a haunting reminder of what I've lost. But I push the feeling aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.
“Allora riprenditela.”Get her back, then,Ferdinando suggests with a shrug.
I shake my head, the bitterness rising in my throat like bile. “I wish I could,” I heavily sigh, “But it's too late. They got married, and I... I respect her choice.”
A ping interrupts our conversation, drawing my attention to the screen of my cell phone.
X: Chateaux. 6 pm.
I glance up at Ferdinando.“È l’invito delConsiglio.”That's Consiglio's invitation, he explains.
My eyes widen in alarm, a nervous energy radiating from him like waves of heat. “Shit, what did I do wrong?” I mutter under my breath, hands trembling.
He reaches for his glass of wine. “Wrong?” he repeats, a grim smile playing at the corners of his lips. “If you did something wrong, you'd be dead, Christopher. No, they invite you for one purpose only.”
“Alleanza?”Alliance?
CHAPTER 5
LEILA
Rebellion leads nowhere, I learned that the hard way. I tried to play by their rules, to be the good girl they wanted me to be, but it was never enough. No matter how hard I tried to earn their trust, the violence only seemed to escalate. It's like they revel in using me, in exploiting my vulnerability for their own sick pleasure. I'm trapped in a nightmare with no way out.
With each passing day, a dark thought creeps into my mind, whispering that maybe there's no other way to escape. I know Mom would be disappointed, but what choice do I have? Even breathing feels like a struggle, a constant ache in my chest I can't shake. I want to scream, to shout out my frustration to the world, but I know the consequences. The last time I spoke up, I ended up with broken ribs and a punctured lung. The week in the hospital was a reprieve, a brief respite from the hell of the Bonetti mansion. Sleeping in a real bed felt like a dream, a luxury I hadn't experienced in far too long. But now, I've grown accustomed to the cold, hard floor of my prison. It's become my bed, my only safe place in this house of horrors.
The hair on my neck stands on end, and my hands tremble as the footsteps draw nearer to the door.Please, just walk by.Please.My heart pounds in my chest as Nicholas enters the room, and I hold my breath, hoping he won't notice me. Maybe if I stay perfectly still, he'll forget I'm even here. He moves toward the bathroom, and I exhale a silent sigh of relief when I hear the shower start running.
Huddled in the corner, I pull my knees to my chest and close my eyes, trying to block out the fear and anxiety that churn in my stomach. Nicholas never cared about whether I ate, slept, or felt good. To him, I was nothing more than a pawn to fulfill his desires. A mere object for his pleasure.
The sound of the shower turning off only tightens the knot in my stomach, knowing he's getting closer. I can sense his presence as he steps onto the marble floor, the scent of his shower gel filling the air. He bends down and releases my ankle, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “Get ready, we have a party tonight.”
I nod silently, my heart sinking as I force myself to stand and make my way to the shower. The routine is always the same: shower, lotion, perfume, makeup, and a dazzling dress. Playing the role of the happy fiancée has become my job, but the truth behind the facade is far from what others see.
It's been two days since he laid a hand on me, and with his dad out of town, I can finally breathe a little easier. Usually, it's him who loves to play the most—almost on a daily basis, making sure to break me a little more each time.
After my shower,I walk back into the bedroom wrapped in my towel. On the bed, every piece of clothing I'm supposed to wear is laid out neatly, from the underwear and dress to the jewelry and heels. There's even a picture of the makeup look Nicholas wants me to replicate. It's become routine for me now, to expertly cover bruises and cuts with makeup.
I glance at myself in the mirror and let out a sigh at the reflection staring back at me. I've lost weight, not that I needed to, but my meals are always uncertain. For some sick reason, Marco insists on me sitting with them during mealtimes, staring at me while he eats. I've quickly learned to wait for his permission to eat, but it's rarely granted. Thankfully, Viola sneaks into the room to bring me food, and I couldn't be more grateful for her kindness.
Nicholas inspects the final result with a nod, then steps aside to let me pass. The car ride is silent, save for the sound of his incessant tapping on his phone and the occasional sniffling as he indulges in his vice. I silently pray that he won't offer me any of it because the mere thought of it makes my stomach churn. Viola, bless her, has been making me drink all sorts of vile concoctions to cleanse my system of that poison. Sometimes I wonder if I should hope they work, or if I should just pray for that venom to take me away from all of this.
“It'll be a great night.” He cleans his nostrils in a gesture that makes my skin crawl. “Be a good girl, and you'll be rewarded.”
I force myself to nod, the weight of his words heavy in the air. “Is there something I need to know?”
“Make sure to stick close to me and be the best version of yourself.” He smirks, his tone dripping with thinly veiled menace.
As the car comes to a stop, I take a deep breath and summon all my strength to put on a fake smile. The club looks fancy from the outside, a far cry from the places I'm used to. After presenting our invitation, Nicholas leads me inside. The waiter offers us champagne, and I take a sip as we enter the ballroom. The décor is opulent, with crystals, mirrors, and dark gold accents, but the mismatched dress code leaves me feeling even more out of place.
We mingle with the other guests, and Nicholas puts a possessive hand on my back whenever he senses someone's gaze lingering on me for too long. It's a silent reminder that I belong to him, a possession to be flaunted.
As the party kicks into full swing, I try to maintain a facade of normalcy, engaging in polite conversation and plastering on a fake smile. But inside, I'm counting down the seconds until I can escape this charade and return home.
