Claimed by Don Vieri

"Leandro, what the fuck?!"

My voice cracks embarrassingly on the last word.

He shoots up like he's been electrocuted, dragging the sheets with him. It would've been funny in another life.

Not mine.

Camila doesn't move fast enough. She moves like she has time, like she's searching for an explanation somewhere that could possibly exist.

"What the fuck is going on?" I demand. "Are you both dumb now? Can't speak?"

My eyes land on Camila.

"Camila?! My wedding is in three weeks. Three weeks!"

"Ari," Leandro starts.

"Don't."

I put my hand up before Leandro can finish. I don't want to hear my name in his filthy mouth.

"Don't you even dare."

Camila finally moves, dragging the sheets to her chest. There's something insulting about the delay. My presence hadn't been important enough for her to cover herself until now.

She has always been the fast one. Always had something to say.

But now, watching her fumble for words in bed with my fiancé feels like watching something break that I didn't know could break.

"It's not what it looks like, Ariadna," she says.

And I laugh.

It's long and heart-wrenching and doesn't feel like it comes from me.

"Then explain it to me, Camila," I say, almost amused. "You both were discussing tablecloths? Or the menu?"

I look at Leandro.

At least he has the decency not to try that line on me.

"How long?"

Silence.

"You know what?"

I shake my head.

"Forget it."

It doesn't matter.

Or maybe it matters too much.

My eyes burn, but I refuse, absolutely refuse, to cry in front of them. Not here. Not while she's still in his bed.

"You've been sleeping with my sister, Leandro."

My voice comes out quieter than I expect.

"You disgusting pig."

"Stepsister," Camila says quietly.

Like that makes it all go away.

I turn to look at her fully then.

I have no idea what she sees on my face, but she flinches.

"You're my sister."

The words slip out just before I can stop them.

"You've been my sister since I was twelve, Camila. And this is what I get?"

My laugh catches somewhere in my throat.

"This?"

She does not answer.

There isn't an answer.

I look at both of them and really look at them for the first time since I walked into the room.

Clothes drape across the floor. The sheets are tangled around them, and the room smells like something I don't want to name, and my stomach is twisted.

Leandro is still sitting there, half-dressed, looking at me like I'm making a scene.

Like I haven't just walked into a nightmare.

Like I'm the inconvenience.

He stands.

"Ari, wait."

"You do not get to talk to me right now."

My hands are shaking, so I press them flat against my thighs, trying to make them stop.

"You do not get to talk to me ever again."

"Ariadna..."

"Don't."

He stops.

For one second, no one moves.

My phone buzzes somewhere behind me.

Once.

Then again.

Probably my assistant.

Probably another question about the wedding. The flowers. The seating chart. The cake I'd spent the afternoon tasting because apparently I still cared if the cake matched the fucking menu.

Three weeks until I was supposed to walk down an aisle and promise this man forever.

I look at Leandro.

Then at Camila.

And all of a sudden, the thought of that aisle feels almost like a joke.

"You're overreacting," he says.

And there it is.

The thing I will replay in my head for months afterwards.

The exact moment I understand that he has never once, not for a single day of our relationship, actually seen me.

"I'm overreacting?"

"It happened once," he says. "It didn't mean anything."

I stare at him.

"It happened once tonight," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "That I caught you."

His face changes.

Just slightly.

But he does not deny it.

And somehow, that hurts me more than anything else.

Because suddenly, I understand.

It was not the first time.

It was just the first time I walked through the door.

I pull the ring from my finger and throw it right at him.

It hits his bare chest and bounces onto the bed, right beside Camila.

Which feels poetic in the worst way possible.

"Keep it," I say. "Give it to her. It looks like she's already comfortable taking everything else from me."

I don't wait for either of them to respond. I turn my back and walk out of the bedroom.

Out of that apartment.

Out of the life I'd spent two years building with a man who never looked at me the way I looked at him.

My hands are still shaking by the time I get to my car. I fumble with my keys until finally I get the door open.

My head is spiraling.

I sit there for a moment, keys in my lap, not entirely sure I trust myself to drive.

Then I pick up my phone to call the only person I know will answer without asking questions.

He picks up on the second ring.

"Ari?"

"What's wrong?"

"Dad."

My voice breaks completely on the word.

"Are you home?"

There's a pause.

"What happened?"

I close my eyes.

"I just need you."

"Come home, baby."

I hang up and pull out of the parking lot, heading toward the one place where I know I'll still be wanted.

My phone buzzes again and again.

I want to tell my assistant to take a break.

There's no more wedding.

I pick up my phone.

It isn't my assistant.

Leandro.

I stare at his name.

I should ignore it.

Instead, I open the message.

*You can leave me t

onight, Ariadna.*

Another message appears.

*But you are still going to be my wife.*

Then a third.

*You'll be a Vieri, one way or another.*

And for the first time that night, I feel something colder than heartbreak.

Fear.