Romances de Lemon

The morning arrived quickly. The sun misled her. It was a bright, cheerful day outside the window.Eleanor entered without saying a word. She unfolded clothes on the bed. Black pants. A black shirt. Simple. Like clothes for hard work.Violetta's stomach was tight. The test was today.She put on the black clothes. They felt like a uniform for her own funeral.Eleanor guided her out. Not toward the dining room. Instead, they walked down a different hall. They descended a set of stairs she had never seen. The air turned colder. The pleasant smells of the house vanished. Now it smelled of bleach and damp stone.They reached a heavy metal door. Eleanor opened it.The room was small. The floor and walls were concrete. A drain sat in the center of the floor. A single, bright bulb hung from a wire.Don Roberto leaned on his cane. Lucian stood next to him, smiling.In the center of the room, on his knees, was Adam.He looked worse than before. His face was covered in bruises. One eye was swoll

Time moved oddly. Violetta sat on the floor of her room. She did not sit on the bed. The bed was not hers.She looked at her hands. They were clean, but she could still see the blood. She could still smell it.She had asked for a phone call. He had walked away. She knew what that meant. No.The sun began to set. The room turned orange, then gray, then black. No one came. No food. No water. No word.She was alone with the dark and the quiet. She thought about her mother. She would be making dinner now. She would be looking at her phone, worrying. Violetta never went a day without calling.A soft knock came on the door. It was not the loud sound of Damon’s knock. It was different.The door opened. It was Marco. His face was serious. In his hand, he held a phone. A simple, black phone.He did not step all the way in. He stood in the doorway. “He says you can call,” Marco said in a low voice. “You have five minutes.”Violetta’s heart jumped. She stood up too quickly. The world spun. She

The mansion felt too quiet. The guards stood straight and stared ahead, avoiding each other's eyes. The air felt tense.Damon entered her room with a stern expression. He held a dark blue dress that was simple, covering her arms and reaching her knees. "Put this on," he said flatly. "Say nothing. Smile. Speak only if he asks you a question."It was a uniform. She slipped it on.A black car arrived. A man stepped out. He was shorter, older, and used a cane. His hair was white, and he walked slowly.This was Don Roberto, Damon's father.He saw Violetta and smiled warmly, his smile reaching his eyes. He took her hand, and his skin felt soft. "My dear," he said kindly. "You are even more beautiful than my son described. A true prize."He seemed nice and gentle. Violetta glanced at Damon. Why was he so afraid of this kind old man?They went to a sitting room where Lucian was waiting. He leaned against the wall, wearing his sly smile.Don Roberto settled into the biggest chair, resting

Violetta did not move. Her eyes were fixed on the bed and the shape of her husband.He had not moved. Not a single sound. The entire time.Did he sleep through it? Was it a dream?The room brightened. The sun rose. It was a new day, her first as Mrs. DeLeon.The door opened. Eleanor walked in. She saw Violetta on the floor, still in her wedding dress. She didn’t seem surprised."Breakfast is ready, Mrs. DeLeon," she said. The name hit hard.Eleanor led her to a new room, a dressing room. Clothes were laid out on a chair: a soft sweater, dark pants, underthings. All expensive, all wrong.On top of the clothes lay the contract. A black pen rested beside it.Eleanor waited. Her message was clear: get dressed and sign.Violetta’s hands shook. She took off the wedding dress and put on the new clothes. The sweater was soft like butter; it felt like a costume.She picked up the contract but did not sign it. She carried it with her.Eleanor took her to the dining room. The table was long enou

The click was soft. Too soft.Violetta's head snapped up. Her eyes adjusted to the dark. The door handle turned slowly.The door pushed open. A sliver of yellow light from the hall cut across the dark floor.A man stood there. He was not Damon, but he resembled him. Same dark hair, same sharp face. However, this man was different. He was a snake uncoiled. He leaned against the doorframe, smiling a cold, empty smile.He looked at her on the floor and at Damon in the bed. His smile widened."Little bride," he whispered into the dark room. "Why are you on the floor? Did my brother already disappoint you?"He stepped inside and closed the door softly behind him. He didn't look at Damon again, acting as if he wasn't even there. He walked around the room, his shoes making no sound on the marble.He saw the dress she had taken off, a sad pile on a chair. He picked it up with two fingers and dropped it like it was dirty. He looked at her in the white wedding dress, his eyes moving over her. I

The woman, Eleanor, stayed silent. Her face was expressionless. She helped Violetta to her feet and led her down the hall. They moved away from the broken vase, away from him.They entered a new room. It was larger. The bathroom had white marble and gold accents. A simple, severe white dress hung on the door. It looked cold to wear.Eleanor went to work. She cleaned the cut on Violetta’s foot and put a bandage on it. Then, she helped her into the dress. The fabric felt stiff and smelled unfamiliar. Eleanor brushed Violetta's hair and pinned it up with cold, sharp clips that tugged at her scalp.No words were exchanged. The only sounds came from their breathing and the quick pounding of Violetta’s heart.Eleanor stepped back and examined her work. She nodded sharply. It was complete.The door opened to reveal Damon. He had changed into a darker, sharper suit. He looked at her, his gaze moving over the dress and her face without showing any emotion.“It’s time,” he said.He didn’t offer