CHAPTER FOUR: "SHE IS MINE NOW, MINE TO CLAIM"

Eva tried not to make a sound as she hurried down the stairs. Her breath was uneven. Her dress clung to her skin. Her hair was a mess from the night. She pressed her lips together, praying no one saw her leave the room.

She reached the entrance of the hallway, she bumped into something, hard,heavy and then she stopped to look up.

Matteo stood there.

Tall. Cold. Sharp eyes that didn’t blink.

Eva froze. Her chest tightened.

Matteo looked her up and down slowly, taking in the undone zipper, the swollen lips, the way she held her shoes in her hands. His jaw shifted, almost like he was annoyed she existed.

“Where is Roman?” he asked, voice flat.

Eva pointed behind her, not trusting her voice. “In the room.” She shutters.

She didn’t wait for his reply. She slipped past him and moved fast, almost running. Matteo didn’t follow. He only watched her leave.

When she disappeared around the corner, Matteo pushed open the bedroom door.

Roman was on the bed, still half-naked, sitting up with his back against the headboard. His hair was messy. There were scratches on his chest. The sheets were a twisted pile on the floor.

But what shocked Matteo most was the look on Roman’s face.

He was laughing. Not loudly. Not wildly.

A low, quiet laugh that came from deep inside his chest.

Roman never laughed.

“Matteo,” he said without looking up, “she ran. Funny because she initiated this last night” he chuckled more, his hands on his chest where she rested.

Matteo shut the door behind him. “You seem pleased.”

Roman smirked. “Three rounds. She almost killed me.” He ran a hand through his hair, still smiling. “I waited too long, watching her from a distance like a fool.”

Matteo’s expression didn’t change. “You want her.”

Roman finally lifted his eyes. “I already marked her. She’s mine now, mine to claim.”

Matteo’s brows pulled together. “Roman, she’s soft. Too soft. One look at her and you know she breaks easy. She’s not built for our world.”

Roman shifted off the bed and reached for the towel hanging over a chair. “Then I’ll protect her.”

“That’s not enough,” Matteo said. His tone carried rare frustration. “She can’t handle your life.”

Roman draped the towel over his shoulder and walked toward the bathroom. He paused at the door.

“Contact the Hart family,” he ordered. “Tell them I want to marry Stella Hart.”

Matteo blinked, stunned. “Stella?”

“Yes.”

Matteo frowned deeper. “Roman, the girl who ran out, the one with strawberry-blonde hair and amber eyes, that was Evangeline Hart. Not Stella.”

Roman’s voice stayed calm. Too calm.

“I know who she is.”

Matteo stared at him. “Then why Stella?”

“Just do what I said.”

Roman walked into the bathroom and shut the door. The shower turned on a second later.

Matteo looked around the room, the clothes on the floor, the faint marks on the bed, the quiet warmth in Roman’s smile that still lingered.

Something dangerous settled in Matteo’s chest.

He had cleaned Roman’s messes for years. But this one, this one felt different.

He sighed and began picking up the pieces.

Eva stayed home the next day. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall, unable to focus on anything.

Her hands shook whenever she remembered the night.

His hands.

His voice.

The way he kissed her forehead.

The way he held her like she mattered.

It hurt.

It shouldn’t hurt.

But it did.

Her phone rang. Her father’s name flashed on the screen.

Her stomach dropped.

She answered with a soft, “Hello?”

“Come home,” her father said. His voice was tight. Cold. Not a single word of warmth. “Now.”

The call ended.

Eva wiped her face, grabbed her bag, and left her apartment.

The Hart mansion looked darker than usual when she arrived. The guards at the gate kept their eyes lowered, avoiding her.

When she stepped inside, the air felt tense.

Stella sat on the couch, crying into Damien’s chest. Her makeup was smudged. Her shoulders shook. Damien rubbed her back, staring at the wall like someone who enjoyed the noise.

“He’s too dangerous,” Stella cried. “Why me? Why always me? I can’t be with him.”

Eva stopped near the door, confused and worried.

Stella kept going, her voice shaking. “He killed his own father when he was five, stab him in the heart. At five, Damien. Someone like that can get rid of me anytime. He can make me disappear.”

Damien whispered something in her ear, something meant to calm her, though his face looked annoyed.

Then both of them turned.

Damien’s gaze was sharp. “You took long,” he said, voice dripping with irritation.

Stella lifted her red eyes, glaring at Eva as if Eva had personally caused her pain.

Their father cleared his throat. “Come here, Eva.”

Eva walked toward them slowly. Her palms were sweaty. Her legs felt weak.

Stella moved aside, folding her arms tightly. “Tell her,” she said to their father.

Mr. Hart looked at Eva with that cold, empty expression he always reserved for her. “You will be getting married.”

Eva stopped breathing for a moment. “What? Why? Wasn’t Stella meant to get married first, after all, the party?”

The slap came fast.

Her head shifted to the side. Her cheek stung as she stumbles, almost making her fall.

“Do not interrupt me,” Mr. Hart said calmly.

Eva held her cheek, stunned.

He continued, “Roman De Luca has shown interest in Stella. But he is far too dangerous. A ruthless man. He kills without hesitation. Do you understand?”

Damien nodded with a smirk. “And we can’t cancel the deal. His family would take it as an insult.”

“So,” her father went on, “we switch the bride.”

Eva’s throat tightened. “Switch? You’re sending me?”

Her father nodded once. “Roman De Luca is the most dangerous mafia king alive. He burned his uncle alive last year. Shot his cousin at a meeting. Made a man dig his own grave before killing him, he is twist more than you know.”

Each detail was said without emotion.

Without fear.

Like he was reading a grocery list.

Damien threw a photo at Eva.

It landed at her feet.

“Pick it up,” he ordered.

Eva crouched slowly, her fingers trembling. She lifted the photo.

Her heart dropped.

Roman.

It was him.

It was the man she had kissed, touched, held.

The man who held her like she mattered.

The man she ran away from. 

Her breath shook.

In her mind, there was only one thought:

He wanted Stella. Of course he did. Everyone always wants Stella.

Her chest burned. Her eyes filled.

Damien scoffed. “She’s crying already. Pathetic.”

Eva lifted her eyes, tears falling fast. “If he’s as powerful as you say, why me? Why send me? If he finds out I’m not Stella, he’ll kill me.”

Damien rolled his eyes. “Then it’s an honor. You’ll die doing something useful for once.” He grinned, cruel and careless. “At least we won’t have to pretend to like you anymore.”

Eva covered her mouth, holding back a sob.

Mr. Hart stepped forward. “It’s decided. The wedding is in three weeks. Do not try anything foolish.”

Her stepmother walked in quietly then, holding a glass of wine. She smiled sweetly at Eva, like she always did for show.

Stella smirked. “Don’t feed her too much. No point. She just needs to look alive until the wedding.”

Eva stared at them all, her father wiping his hands like she was dirt, Damien smirking, Stella smiling in satisfaction.

“Take her,” Mr. Hart ordered.

Before Eva could speak.

Before she could run.

Before she could even think.

Hands grabbed her arms.

She screamed, kicking, but no one flinched.

They dragged her down the hall.

Down the stairs.

To the basement.

Stella followed a few steps behind, waving at her with a cruel grin.

“Good luck, sister,” she said softly. “Try not to die before the wedding.”

The door slammed.

The lock turned.

Darkness swallowed Eva whole.