CHAPTER 6

Rhaena’s POV

I took another step inside, then another, my heels making small sounds against the shiny floor. The place felt huge. Too big. Like it could swallow me whole if I wasn’t careful. I forced myself not to stare, even though everything around me begged to be looked at. Tall ceilings. Soft lights. Walls that looked like they had never known dust. Everything was clean and perfect and very expensive.

I told myself to breathe. Just breathe. Walk like you belong here.

I adjusted my dress and straightened my back, trying to look calm even though my stomach was tight. People moved around me easily, laughing, talking, touching arms like they all knew each other. No one looked nervous. No one looked out of place. Except me. I felt like I had stepped into someone else’s life by mistake.

A waiter appeared at my side so suddenly I almost jumped. He held out a tray with champagne glasses, all lined up neatly.

“Champagne?” he asked politely.

I nodded and took one. “Thank you.”

The glass was cold in my hand, grounding somehow. I didn’t drink it right away. I just held it, letting my fingers wrap around the stem as I looked around again, searching.

That’s when I saw her.

My mum.

She stood near the center of the room, talking to a well-dressed couple. She was wearing a red dress that fit her perfectly, like it had been made just for her body. Her blonde hair was styled beautifully, soft waves falling around her shoulders. She looked confident. Glowing. Happy in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time.

For a moment, she didn’t see me. And I just stood there, watching her.

Something tugged at my chest. She looked like she belonged here. Like this world of money and parties and mansions was made for her. It made me feel small, but also strangely proud.

Then her eyes met mine.

Her whole face lit up.

“Oh!” she said, quickly turning to excuse herself from the couple she had been talking to. She walked toward me fast, her heels clicking confidently on the floor.

“Rhaena!” she said, pulling me into a tight hug. “I’m so happy you came.”

I hugged her back, breathing in her familiar scent. It reminded me of home, of childhood mornings and late-night talks. “I’m glad I came,” I said softly. And I meant it.

She pulled back and held my shoulders, looking me over carefully. “You look beautiful,” she said with a smile.

“Thanks, Mum,” I replied, feeling a little awkward but warmed by her words.

Before I could say anything else, she grabbed my hand, her excitement obvious.

“Come on,” she said brightly. “You have to meet him.”

My heart skipped. “Meet who?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

She laughed. “Sandro. My fiancé.”

She didn’t wait for a response. She started pulling me through the crowd, weaving between people who smiled and nodded at her like she was someone important. As we walked, my thoughts ran wild. I wondered what Sandro would be like. Would he be kind or cold? Loud or quiet? Would he look at my mum like she was everything, or like she was just another trophy?

But more than anything else, one question kept repeating in my head.

Did he truly love her?

Because if he did, then maybe this time was different. Maybe this wasn’t just another mistake waiting to happen.

We moved further into the mansion, the soft echo of our heels bouncing off the marble floor. My mum weaved through groups of people laughing, holding drinks, and chatting in low, polished voices. I followed closely, my hand still in hers, trying to look calm even though my heart felt like it might leap out of my chest.

“Rhaena,” she said softly, tugging my hand, “I want you to meet someone very special.”

I looked up and saw him. A tall man in a black tuxedo turned toward us. Silver streaked through his dark hair, and his jaw was sharp and strong. His shoulders were broad, his posture confident but relaxed. When he smiled at my mum, his eyes softened in a way that made my chest ache a little.

“This is Allesandro Ravelli,” my mum said, her voice bright with pride. “My fiancé.”

I extended my hand, trying not to shake too much. His was warm, firm, and steady. “It’s nice to meet you, Rhaena,” he said, his voice smooth and calm. There was a quiet charm to the way he spoke, not flashy, just honest.

I noticed how he looked at my mum. Not like she was a prize to show off, not like a painting in a gallery. He looked at her like she was the center of the world. My chest loosened a little. Maybe this really was different.

He gestured to a chair beside him. “Please, have a seat,” he said politely, though I stayed standing. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I study business administration and marketing,” I said, curling my fingers around my champagne glass. “I’m just starting my career, trying to learn as much as I can.”

He nodded, listening closely, his brows lifting occasionally as I explained a few projects I’d been working on. “That’s impressive,” he said. “Marketing can be complicated, but it’s rewarding. Do you enjoy it?”

“Yes,” I said, smiling a little. “It’s challenging, but I like it.”

He leaned back slightly, still watching my mum with those soft, careful eyes, then looked at me again. “It sounds like you’re driven. That’s good to see.”

I blinked. Compliments from strangers usually felt awkward, but there was something in the way he said it that felt genuine. He wasn’t trying to impress me. He was just… kind.

My mum squeezed my hand, a quiet grin on her face. “See?” she whispered. “I told you he’s wonderful.”

I glanced at them both. Everything about them—the way he moved around her, the way she laughed freely in his presence—told me what words sometimes can’t. My mum’s smile didn’t have an edge this time. It was soft. Real. And the way he looked at her made me believe that maybe she had finally found someone who truly cared.

I took a deep breath, finally letting some of the tension in my shoulders go. For the first time in a long while, I felt a little hopeful. Maybe this marriage wouldn’t be like the others. Maybe this time, it really was different.

Maybe this really could work.

As we talked, I caught movement from the corner of my eye. I turned slightly and froze for a moment. A young man was walking toward us, dressed in a black tuxedo that looked like it had been made just for him.

His hair was black, dark like the sky at midnight, and for a second, my mind jumped back to that night—the one I was trying so hard to forget. I shook my head quickly, like shaking off a stubborn dream. I had decided, firmly, that night was over. It belonged to the past. I wouldn’t let it touch me again.

The man was… striking. Not in a soft, easy way, but in a rough, rugged way that made him stand out. If it weren’t for the scowl lined across his face, I might have said he looked almost… pretty.

Alessandro waved at him, a bright smile breaking across his face. The man straightened his shoulders and started walking toward us with slow, confident steps. When he reached us, Alessandro pulled him into a hug.

“How are you, son?” Alessandro said warmly.

Son. My future stepbrother.