The Party of Possession

(Sofia's POV)

"You should be careful who you underestimate."

For the first time, something flickered in Alessandro's eyes.

Not mockery.

Interest.

Sofia was still standing near the window when the maid left.

The room felt too quiet.

Too controlled.

Too much like him.

She ran her fingers over the fabric of the gown laid carefully on the bed. Dark. Elegant. Powerful. Not something she would have chosen for herself.

"It's my welcome party," Alessandro had said.

Welcome.

The word tasted bitter.

The door opened without a knock.

Of course.

Alessandro stepped inside like he owned not just the room — but the air in it. His presence filled the space instantly.

"I said I won't be going," Sofia repeated without turning to look at him.

A pause.

Then the slow sound of his shoes against the floor as he walked further in.

"You mistake this for a request," he replied calmly.

She turned sharply. "You already humiliated me once today. Isn't that enough?"

His eyes darkened, but not with anger — with something colder.

"You were humiliated before you stepped into my house," he said evenly. "I simply cleaned up the mess."

Her hands clenched at her sides.

"I am not something to be cleaned up."

"No," he agreed. "You're an investment."

The word sliced through her.

Sofia laughed softly — bitterly. "So that's what I am? A business transaction?"

"That is what marriages like ours are built on."

He stepped closer.

Too close.

"You will attend the party," he continued. "You will stand beside me. You will smile. And you will let every man in that room understand exactly who you belong to now."

Her heart pounded, but she refused to step back.

"I don't belong to anyone."

A faint smirk touched his lips.

"Legally," he said, his voice lowering, "you do."

Silence stretched between them.

Heavy.

Dangerous.

Then he turned and left.

As soon as he was gone, Sofia wore the gown and stood in front of the mirror. She stared at her reflection.

She looked powerful.

She smiled.

But the words you're an investment kept slicing through her mind.

She felt anger rise in her chest.

"You look just like her."

Sofia turned and saw her aunt standing behind her.

"Really?" she asked softly.

"Your eyes. The way you smile. How beautiful you look. Everything about you reminds me of your mom."

Sofia's expression softened. "I wish she was here with me. Things could've been easier. I wouldn't have found myself in this situation."

Her aunt stepped closer and held her hands gently. "Give him time," she encouraged. "Maybe he will change."

Sofia said nothing.

She finished her makeup and walked downstairs.

Halfway down the staircase, she saw her stepmother coming toward her with that familiar fake smile.

Sofia knew it too well.

As the woman reached out and touched her hand, Sofia pulled away immediately.

"Drop the act," she said coldly. "You don't have to pretend all the time."

She walked past her without another word.

The room was filled with dangerous and elite people. Some were Alessandro's friends. Some were business partners. Some were his father's old allies.

Power. Money. Violence.

All in one room.

Sofia looked around, searching for Adrian.

In her mind, he hadn't rejected her on his own.

Maybe he was manipulated.

Maybe if she talked to him, he would tell her the truth.

She stood holding a glass of wine when she finally saw him.

She walked toward him.

They exchanged greetings.

"You look beautiful," Adrian said. "Not that you aren't beautiful, but… you look more powerful tonight."

She held his hand.

"Talk to me," she pleaded softly. "Baby, I know it wasn't your intention to cancel our proposal. We can forget everything that happened today. Let's continue. I will forgive you. You know how much I love you. Please… just tell me this is all a prank."

Adrian gently pulled his hand away.

"I don't love you anymore," he said.

Her heart stopped.

"Nothing can ever happen between us again. We are over. It's time you accept the truth and move on."

She was still holding onto him when Amanda walked straight toward them.

"Leave my fiancé, you w****!" Amanda snapped. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself? You just said yes to another man this morning and now you're all over my fiancé trying to seduce him? You have no shame!"

Before Sofia could react, Amanda threw the wine in her face.

Then slapped her.

"Stay away from my man, you b****!"

Time froze.

The entire room went silent.

Sofia stood there, wine dripping down her face, shock and humiliation crashing over her.

Then Alessandro appeared.

He walked toward them slowly.

Calm.

Dangerous.

He stopped in front of her and lifted her chin.

"Little wife," he said quietly, "you will do exactly as I said."

His voice lowered.

"I will give you two options. Either you slap her back… or I will slap you right this moment."

Gasps filled the room.

"You know how many people I have killed," he continued calmly. "You wouldn't want me to hit and ruin that pretty face."

Sofia was still in shock. She couldn't even process what Adrian had said.

Then suddenly Alessandro's voice thundered across the room.

"For f***'s sake, I said slap her back! No one comes into my house and treats my wife badly!"

He stepped closer.

"Oh, you wouldn't, right? Then I'll do it my way."

He pulled out a gun and placed it against Amanda's head.

"Slap her back… or I pull the trigger."

Amanda started shaking.

So did Sofia.

Adrian stood frozen. He knew exactly what his brother was capable of. He wouldn't dare defy him.

He looked terrified that Alessandro might actually kill his lover.

"Piccola," Alessandro said coldly, "I will count to three. If you haven't returned the slap… I pull the trigger."

"One…"

"Two—"

"Alessandro."

His father's voice cut through the tension.

"Put down the gun, boy. I know you're trying to protect your wife, but this shouldn't involve us men. Let them settle their differences."

The room was suffocating.

After a long second, Alessandro lowered the gun.

Amanda ran straight into Adrian's arms, whispering that she was scared. He comforted her.

The sight made Sofia feel sick.

Alessandro didn't look at anyone else.

He called for a maid.

"Take my wife back to her room."

And just like that, the party continued.

But nothing felt the same.

I went back to my room, heartbroken from what Adrian told me. It all felt like a dream I would wake up from — but it wasn't. It was reality.

The man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with had just told me we were over long ago, that he didn't love me anymore. The pain wouldn't stop. It kept hurting, deeper and deeper.

I was still trying to pull myself together when I realized the party was already over. I hadn't even noticed.

The door opened.

He didn't knock.

Of course he didn't. It was his house, after all.

"Leave," I said without even looking at him.

"Oh, so you now have what it takes to talk back to me?" His voice carried restrained anger. "You couldn't even defend yourself in front of your sister. Look how you embarrassed me in front of my friends. My family."

I looked at him in disbelief. Wasn't he the same man who had threatened to slap me himself? Why was he angry that I didn't hit back?

"You shouldn't let anyone treat you that way," he continued coldly. "Not under my watch."

Under his watch?

"So you should know this," he added, stepping closer. "You belong to me. It's high time you understand that. Stay away from my brother. You are married to me."

His voice was possessive — like I was property he owned.

I left one hell and walked straight into another. I locked myself inside the prison I had created within his mansion.

Every day, the maids came to drop off food in my room. Every plate was left untouched. I cried every day.

And my so-called husband never once came to check on me.

On the fourth day, I was exhausted. Weak from crying. Weak from not eating.

So I stepped out of my prison.

As I walked down the stairs, I heard a strange noise coming from the kitchen.

A low moan.

A groan.

I froze.

And then I saw them.

The man I had married — screwing a w**** woman in my kitchen.

At that moment, I felt disgusted. Sick to my stomach.

I called out his name.

He didn't answer.

The w**** moans grew louder. So did his.

Tears rolled down my face as I stood there, shattered.

"I'm almost there," he muttered.

Then suddenly he turned, grabbing his shirt.

The w**** was still sitting on the kitchen counter, staring at me like I couldn't do anything to her.

"You disgust me," I said, my voice trembling. "You couldn't even wait until our wedding week was over?"

He turned to his w**** calmly. "That's enough. Get out."

She left without shame.

Then he faced me.

"Are you done with your little act?" he asked coldly. "Do you still think life is a fairy tale? Waiting for your Prince Charming to rescue you from your miserable life?"

Each word struck like a slap.

"The sooner you wake up to reality, the better for you," he continued. "You're destroying yourself over someone who didn't even choose you."

I clenched my fists.

"You disgust me!" I shot back. "You brought your w**** into my kitchen. You have no shame, Alessandro."

He walked toward me and grabbed my wrist tightly.

"I know you enjoyed what you saw," he said darkly. "Didn't you? You must be wet and wished it was you on that counter."

The humiliation burned through me.

Without thinking, I slapped him.

"I hate you," I said, my voice shaking.

For a moment, silence filled the kitchen.

His jaw tightened, but he didn't strike back.

Instead, he stepped away.

"Prepare yourself," he said coldly. "The maids will bring the dress I picked out for you."

My stomach twisted.

"My brother is coming over for dinner."

Those words hit harder than anything else.