Chapter Four: The Taste Of Truth

**Amelia’s POV**

I couldn’t get any rest.

I lay still, gazing at the ceiling as it could offer answers. As Celina’s voice echoed again, harsh and cruel, in my thoughts. My fingers dug into the sheets.

 “Your father did not provide you. He sold you.”

 “Leverage here is applied.”

 “He’s been watching you for years.”

 I held my hands to my ears as though I might stifle the memories. It failed. They lingered vivid, suffocating.

 I had lost my feelings. Fury. Doubt. Betrayal I was also somewhat inclined to believe her. Still other voice demanded to be impossible.

 Both sides understood though: it was.

I pulled myself out of bed like a phantom when morning finally arrived. I let the shower’s hot water go across me until my skin became scarlet. Yet I was chilly from within.

Wearing silence, I entered the hallway. The home’s silence was oppressive, as though the walls themselves were grieved something.

Nobody seemed to be coming to rescue you, they murmured.

 And maybe they were right.

I slowly came down the grand stairs. As my heart beat in my chest, my hand brushed the carved rail to root me. I passed numerous men in black suits, statues in motion, they didn’t look at me; they didn’t ask where I was heading. I was either invisible to them… or owned.

 After that I spotted him.

 Nico, shirtless and dripping in perspiration, waited in the courtyard. His fists hammered a suspended sandbag repeatedly and mercilessly. Each shot struck with terrible force, causing the bag to swing on its chain. His muscles tightened, his tattoos sliding like ink over live marble.

 He seemed to emit power like heat. Controlled rage.

 He resembled a god of war carved in flesh.

 Still… I moved nearer.

I ought to have turned around. Should’ve let him alone. But something more profound pushed me forward till I stood just few steps behind him.

 “Nico,” I said softly.

 He did not pause.

 “Nico! I said Louder this time.

His fists frozen mid-swing. One hand caught the sandbag and froze it. He turn to face me slowly.

His expression was unreadable. His eyes like a storm in the making. Then, as quickly as it had, the mask dropped into place.

 He grabbed a neighboring towel and blotted the perspiration from his brow and then his chest. Although his breathing calmed, the pressure persisted.

 Each phrase careful, I said, “You lied to me.”

 He did not flinch.

“You knew who I was.”

 “You witnessed me.”

 “Yes.” He replied curtly.

“For years?”

His jaw flexed. “I had my reasons.”

 “No.” My voice broke, fury slicing through grief. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to hurl me into this dream and not provide an explanation.”

 Now, he turned completely toward me, his eyes locking with mine like a knife pressed against skin.

 “Your father owed me,” he said in a low and serious voice. “A debt.” One he couldn’t settle with money.”

 Under me, the earth turned.

 “So he used me?”

 He did not reply.

 He wouldn’t need to.

 The truth already shone through his gaze.

I queried, my voice shaking, “Like a possession?”

 Nico stepped forward. “Don’t twist it like that.”

 I backed away. “What more is there to twist?” My voice elevated, “My father sold me to you and you accepted.”

 He did not deny it.

 The stillness between us cried louder than any debate.

 Heart pounding, I turned to flee from him, from this, from everything. But then…

“He owed me blood.”

 I freeze in square.

 I turned back slowly. Nico’s expression hardened, tone descended into anything blacker. Five years ago your father dispatched someone to kill me.

 Those words struck like bricks.

 He went on, “Three of my men were buried that night,” adding, “Men who were loyal. Good guys. I spared your father for one reason only.”

 His gaze stayed glued on mine.

 “The reason was you.”

 I stared at him, mouth dry. I should not understand…

Once outside your school gates. I saw you. He moved forward once more, this time more slowly. You were sixteen laughing with another male.

My breath caught. That day came back to me. I just didn’t know he had been present.

He murmured, “You looked… free,” then he added, “untouched by any of this.”

After that, his voice sharped.

 “And in that instant, I knew if I wanted to make your father suffer I would take what he prized most. You.

 “So this was revenge?”

 One time he nodded, “It was.”

 “And now?” He did not reply.

Instead, he took one more step. Nearer. It seemed as though the space between us was shaking.

He stretched up, slowly, and smoothed a stray strand of hair back behind my ear.

My breath caught. I should have backed off. I should have screamed.

 But I didn’t.

 Something inside me broke, and I leaned, barely into his touch.

 His fingers lingered just a little too long.

 “Boss!” The voice shattered everything.

A guy ran up, breathless. Nico withdrew from me right away, his features sinking back into frost.

 “What?” Nico shot.

 “There’s a problem at the docks,” the man said. “One of the shipments, its gone. There's also a name.”

 Nico squinted. "whose?"

The man paused, glancing at me.

Slow but deadly, Nico moved forward, his whole frame loomed over the man like a shadow thrown by death itself. His hand shot out abruptly, squeezing the man's throat firmly and raising him somewhat off balance. As Nico squeezed, veins erupted in his arm, his jaw tight and his eyes glowing with unadulterated anger.

Low and deadly, his voice dropped; it was a promise, not a threat.

 He growled, his voice like sharp broken glass, "If you ever look at her again while I am speaking, I will tear that eye out of your skull and make you choke on it."

The man gasped, his face flushing as Nico leaned in closer.

 "Now," Nico hissed, his grip tightening, "answer the damn question." Nico commanded.

 "Ro...Romano." Choking on his voice.

 I caught my breath.

"What does that mean?" I questioned in a scarcely audible whisper.

Nico gave me a look, and for the first time, I saw something like betrayal in his eyes.

“It means your father set me up. Again.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away with the man, leaving me standing there with the truth hanging over my head like a noose.

He didn’t look back.

I stood frozen for a long time before I whispered to no one.

“What has my father done now?”

I turned slowly and walked back into the house, every step heavier than the last.