Chapter 17

Zara’s POV

The ride back to the mansion was nothing but complete silence in the car, and nothing but the usual chaos in my mind.

The buildings around blurred past the window, buildings melting into one another as Marco drove with his usual precision.

I stared outside without really seeing anything, my reflection faint in the glass. My thoughts felt loud, clashing into one another, each one heavier than the last.

I reached for my phone before I could even stop myself. Dialed my Mum’s contact. It rang twice before she answered.

“Zara, baby,” her voice came through warm and usual, and something in my chest tightened immediately.

“Hi, Mum,” I said, forcing my voice to sound steadier than I felt.

“How are you? How’s school? Italy treating you well now?” she asked, the questions tumbling out one after the other.

I let out a slow breath. “It’s… fine, plus it’s only been a couple of days Mum and school is fine.”

There was a pause on her end. The kind that told me she didn’t believe me.

“And living arrangements?” she asked. I glanced at the driver’s reflection in the rearview mirror, then lowered my voice. “I hate it here.”

Her sigh came soft through the phone in seconds. “Zara—”

“I don’t belong here, Mum,” I said, the words spilling faster now. “This house is too big, too quiet, and he—” I stopped myself. “They watch everything I do. I feel like I’m constantly stepping on glass.”

Her sigh this time, came in quiet but heavy. “Zara…”

“I feel trapped,” I continued, words spilling out now that I’d started. “Everything feels controlled. Watched. I can’t even breathe without feeling like someone’s measuring it.”

There was a pause, and then my mother’s voice joined the call.

“Sweetheart,” she said softly, “we both know how bad you felt after he left you, and now sending you away to Italy was the best option I could even think of.”

My fingers tightened around the phone. The words unlocked something I’d spent weeks trying to bury.

Images rushed in uninvited in seconds. Him standing in my doorway, not meeting my eyes. His voice calm, detached, already halfway gone. Let’s end this. The way my chest had caved in on itself. The way the room had felt too big afterward, like all the air had been sucked out.

I remembered sitting on my bed the night after that, phone clutched in my hand, staring at our old messages. Re-reading them, as if they might change if I looked hard enough. Waiting for a text that never came.

I remembered how everything after that had felt muted. How food tasted bland. Music sounded hollow. Days blurred together into something gray and unbearable.

I smiled when people spoke to me. Laughed when expected. Then cried quietly into my pillow when the house finally went to sleep.

“I didn’t need to be sent away,” I said quietly, knowing I’d wanted that the very minute she gave me the suggestion of leaving. “I just needed time.”

“And you weren’t giving yourself any,” Mum said softly. “You were breaking, Zara. We could see it.”

I swallowed hard, blinking back the sting behind my eyes. “This doesn’t feel like healing.”

“Sometimes healing feels like disruption and most times it worth it,” my mother replied. “You needed distance. A reset.”

I looked out the window again, watching the streets grow darker as we moved farther from the city center. “This place doesn’t feel like a reset,” I murmured. “It feels like exile.”

“We love you,” Mum said. “And this was never meant to punish you.”

“I know,” I whispered. But knowing didn’t change the way my chest ached.

The call ended shortly after, the screen going dark in my hand. I let my phone fall into my lap, staring at it blankly before tucking it back into my bag.

And just then the silence returned. Only this time, it felt heavier for some damn reason.

By the time the car turned into the long driveway leading up to the mansion, the sky had darkened into deep blue, dusk settling thick above us. My eyes immediately caught on the cars parked outside.

Too many. Black vehicles lined the front of the house, sleek and imposing. Men stood near them in small clusters, speaking in low voices too. Their posture was tense from whatever was going on inside.

Inside, the mansion was unusually loud today, with tension swirling in the air.

I walked through the entrance hall, my footsteps echoing sharply against marble. Normally, the place felt eerily quiet, like it was holding its breath. Today, it felt like it was bracing for impact.

I headed toward the staircase, eager to escape to my room as usual, when voices stopped me mid-step.

Angry voices.

They carried from down the corridor to my right, low, harsh, and so heated. Italian words snapped through the air, sharp enough to raise the hair on my arms.

I hesitated, curiosity warred with common sense. And I told myself to keep walking.

But I didn’t. Instead, I slowed, then quietly moved toward the corridor, keeping close to the wall. My heart beat faster with every step and then the voices grew clearer as I approached.

“I told you this would happen,” one man snapped.

“And I told you it was handled,” another shot back.

A third voice cut in, colder than the first. “Nothing about this is handled. You let them move without clearance.”

A chair scraped loudly against the floor inside the room and I flinched.

“These aren’t amateurs,” someone else said. “They’re testing boundaries.”

My pulse hammered in my ears as I leaned closer to the door, barely daring to breathe.

“This brings heat,” the first voice continued. “Unwanted attention.”

“And whose fault is that?” another man demanded.

The tension in the room felt palpable, even through the thick wooden door. I recognized a few of the voices, Matteo’s men. Men who never raised their voices. Men who moved with quiet discipline.

“This isn’t just territory anymore,” someone said. “This is a message

“Do you realize what kind of attention this brings?”

I shifted my weight slightly, pressing my ear closer trying to hear better.

Unfortunately, the door swung open. Suddenly, there was nothing to support me.

My balance gave way, breath leaving my body in a sharp gasp as I stumbled forward—

And I fell straight into the room.

“Fuck!”