“I don’t know,” I said. His eyes went cold.
“Wrong answer.”
He grabbed my arm, fingers digging hard enough to bruise, and dragged me toward the center of the room. My ankle screamed in protest, but I bit it back, refusing to cry out.
“Since you seem to think you can make your own choices,” he said, his voice turning sharper, “I’ll remind you what happens when you forget your place.”
Aurora stepped forward. “Papa, please don’t hurt her!”
“Stay where you are,” he snapped. She froze. So did Sienna and Matteo. I didn’t look at them again.
Papa released my arm only to shove me forward. I stumbled, barely catching myself before my injured foot gave out completely.
“On your knees.”
My breath hitched. I didn’t move fast enough. His hand closed around the back of my neck and forced me down. The floor was cold beneath my palms. The position was humiliating, and deliberate. Meant to be seen. Witnessed by my poor brother and sisters.
“Look at her,” he said to the others. “This is what happens when you forget who you belong to.”
Belong.
The word twisted something sharp in my chest. I pressed my lips together, staring at the floor, refusing to cry. I wouldn’t give him that.
“Last chance,” Papa said. “Admit your siblings helped you. That you deceived them. Forced them to lie to me. And tell me who helped you. You’re too dumb to pull this off on your own.”
My heart pounded.
Our little secret.
“No one.”
Silence followed, but not for long.
Pain exploded across my back as the first strike landed. I gasped despite myself, my fingers digging into the carpet as the shock of it rippled through me. Without looking up, I knew Papa had taken his belt off. He’d hit me with it so many times before, I was familiar with the way the leather felt, cracking against my skin.
My ankle throbbed harder, my whole body going rigid. The second hit came faster. Hotter. Sienna started crying.
“Stop, Papa. Please!” she begged.
“Quiet,” Papa seethed. “Who helped you, Chiara?”
I shut my eyes, breathing through it, forcing myself not to break. Not to scream. Then, I whispered, “No one.”
Another strike. Another breath dragged through clenched teeth. I held on to the only thing I had left. The memory of the masked stranger. My only little sin in this gilded cage.
Our little secret.
I wasn’t going to betray the stranger. No matter how hard Papa hit me.
Thenextmorning,everyinch of my body hurt. Not just the sharp, lingering sting across my back or the dull ache in my ankle, but deeper. Bruised pride. Bruised anger. Bruised ego, maybe.
I stayed in bed longer than I should have, staring at the canopy above me, replaying the snake bite and the masked stranger over and over, until an urgent knock sounded at my door.
Before I could answer, it burst open. “Chiara!”
Aurora’s voice broke. I pushed myself up on my elbows, wincing as pain flared down my spine. She rushed toward me, eyes red, face pale, hands shaking.
“Aurora?” My voice came out hoarse. “What’s wrong?”
