“Someone who can own me, you mean.”
Valentina flinches. “Mara?—”
“No. Don’t. I get it now. Protection. Safety. Power. It’s all the same word wearing different suits.”
They don’t respond. They don’t have to. I can see it in their eyes: the pity, the helplessness.
“You should talk to him,” Valentina says quietly. “Before it’s decided.”
“Decided,” I echo. “Like I’m not even in the room.”
“He loves you,” she says, and somehow that’s worse.
I swallow, but it feels like glass. “No, this isn’t love, Valentina. This is control. He wants to control my life and make decision that aren’t his to make.”
For a moment, none of us speak.
Alessia’s eyes glisten. “We didn’t want to tell you like this.”
“Then why did you?”
“Because you deserve to know,” Valentina says simply. “Even if you can’t change it.”
That sentence sticks.
Even if you can’t change it.
I stare at the screen until their faces blur again. My throat tightens and my eyes burn, but I don’t cry. I won’t.
“I have to go,” I say.
“Mara—”
The call ends before they can finish.
The silence that follows is deafening. The rain outside gets louder, slamming against the glass like it’s trying to get in. Duchess jumps down from the bed and pads over to the window, tail flicking, curious. I can’t move.
A marriage. Protection. A deal.
It keeps repeating in my head until the words lose meaning.
I push the blanket off and stand. The floor is cold under my feet, grounding.
I need air. Space. Anything but this.
The hallway is dark except for the soft glow of sconces along the walls. My reflection follows me in the mirrors: a blur of gray hoodie and bare feet, hair tangled. The house hums with quiet, but it doesn’t feel empty.
When I reach the landing that overlooks the main floor, I hear voices. Low. Male. One of them is unmistakable: Nicolo.
The sound of his voice pulls something tight in my chest. I move closer carefully, stopping just outside his office door. It’s cracked open an inch.
“…contract’s not negotiable,” he’s saying. “It’s already been discussed.”
A pause. Another man’s voice, muffled. I can’t make out the words.
Then Nicolo again. “She doesn’t know yet.”
I freeze, heart pounding in my throat. My fingers curl against the doorframe. He’s talking about me.
