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Chapter 3
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2025-06-15 15:00:35The party went smoothly.
After cutting the cake, I ditched the polite smiles and made a beeline for the dance floor. Met a cute guy—messy curls, a cocky smile, hands that lingered too long on my waist.
He gave me his number.
And now I’m staring at it. Still lying on my bed in my very little PJs—believe me when I say little.
No one’s allowed in my room after 10 PM, so I was safe. Even though Enzo said he'd come back... he left.
With her.
She was drunk. Couldn't get home.
So he took her.
Of course.
I may or may not wore this for him.
But now it was all useless.
As me.
I looked down at my phone.
If I can’t text the one I want, why not settle for some distraction?
Rolling over on my bed, my eyes caught my reflection in the mirror above. And just like that, I was yanked into a memory—one that never leaves.
FLASHBACK
“You good?” he asked, that usual furrow between his brows.
“Yes.”
A lie.
The cramps were killing me. I hadn’t even managed to shower—I felt heavy, sore, useless.
It happened sometimes, but today was worse than usual. I curled tighter into the couch, trying to hide it.
He reached for my hand. “Come here.”
“No.”
But of course, he didn’t listen. He never did when I was in pain. I always ended up in his lap. This shouldn’t have felt different. But I was on my period. It felt… humiliating.
What if I left a stain on his expensive suit pants?
Not that he was wearing a suit now—just a shirt, sleeves rolled up, forearms on display like a cruel temptation.
“What are you doing?”
He guided his hand under my red sweatshirt, his palm warm as it moved gently over my aching stomach.
“It’ll help,” he said softly.
And God—it did. I melted into his touch.
Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face close to his. He focused on my cramps.
I focused on the moles on his face.
1, 2, 3… 4… um… 5… 6… oh, and there's one more…
“Stop,” he murmured suddenly.
“Huh?”
He was staring at me now. That unreadable expression in his eyes.
“How many times are you going to count them?”
I blinked. Caught.
“Oh, that? As many times as I get to be this close to you.”
He chuckled. Deep and amused. It made my chest ache.
“So I have to put up with this forever?”
“I mean… yeah. I guess.”
We were staring at each other. His hand slowly slid a little higher.
My breath hitched. I knew what was coming—
Instead, he started tickling me.
“NOOO!! ENZOOO!! NOO!!”
“No what, princess?” he teased, voice thick with laughter.
I was laughing too hard to feel the pain anymore.
“Please—please, Enzooo!” I begged between gasps.
Finally, he stopped. Lay beside me like the tickling drained all his energy.
We stared up at the mirror above.
“I can’t breathe,” I whispered, smiling.
“Cramps gone?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Or do you want my magical fingers again?”
I blushed. Hard.
I knew he meant tickling.
But my mind had other plans.
FLASHBACK END
“What are you thinking, princess?”
I jolted.
He came.
He was standing at the door in black sweatpants and a t-shirt. Casual. Unbothered.
His hair completely disheveled yet looked effortless.
But his eyes… they didn’t leave my face.
No expression on his face.
Blank.
He didn’t look down—but I knew he saw. I was barely wearing anything. Tiny shorts that threatened to reveal everything with the wrong move. A red bralette.
His favorite color.
I wore it more after he told me.
But not once I had the courage to wear this in front of him.
And here he was.
“About you,” I said softly. Replying to his question.
He tilted his head, confused.maybe?
“Me?”
I sat up, pulling my legs closed. Suddenly shy and very much aware of his stare.
“Yes… how you… proposed,” I mumbled, heading toward the dresser, grabbing the first shirt I found and throwing it on.
In the past I always wanted him to see me in this but now, I don't want to.
He left me on my birthday night.
I thought he'll come to me first but NO!
“I didn’t,” he said, voice sharp.
He hadn’t moved from the doorway. Hands in pockets. Leaning like he owned the air between us.
“You didn’t?”
My back was to him. My heart cracked again.
I turned, walked straight to him, pulled his hand out of his pocket and said with a smile that felt like swallowing glass:
“Then congratulations anyway, Mr. Vitalio. I hope you have a happy life.”
His jaw clenched.
He gripped my hand tightly.
“Don’t play with me, bella,” he whispered.
His voice was soft but on edge.
It was a warning.
“I’m not,” I said sweetly. “But if you want to play…”
I let the silence stretch.
“Then why not?”
His eyes darkened. The room thickened with tension. I could feel the rage in him. If I pushed more, he might just strangle me.
(Not that I’d mind. Not entirely.)
So I did the unthinkable.
I stood on my toes and kissed his cheek. Slowly. Lingering.
“I hope you enjoy your married life in the future… Mr. Vitalio.”
That was it.
His hand snapped up into my hair.
Firm, not painful. But dominant and Controlling.
I gasped softly, forced to look up at him, neck stretched, heart racing.
“I. Said. I. Didn’t. Propose. To. Her.”
He growled the words like they burned his tongue.
I rolled my eyes.
He tightened his grip.
I smirked.
“I didn’t ask.”
"Is it too hard for you to understand simple phrase?" He asked.
His patience cracked.
“You’re acting like a brat.”
“I am a brat,” I hissed. “But only towards people who no longer matter to me.”
His eyes widened—just a flicker—but the fire in them roared.
“What’s disturbing you, bella?” he asked, suddenly quiet again.
How do I say it?
That loving him is slowly killing me?
That every part of me screams for him and still, he won’t choose me?
My eyes closed.
I couldn’t look at him anymore.
His grip softened, not letting go. Not entirely.
“Why?” I whispered.
“Huh?”
“I… was your family,” I choked.
The words tasted like betrayal.
His expression softened. He kissed my forehead.
“You are. Forever my family, bella.”
Then why does it hurt so much?
“Then… what changed?” I breathed.
That question made him freeze.
He didn’t have an answer.
And maybe that silence was my answer.
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His lips brushed my neck once—slow, deliberate—like he was testing himself more than me.I gasped softly, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Enzo…please”“That sound,” he murmured against my skin, “is exactly why this is feeling so good.”“I hope this also feels good,” I whispered, and getting my hips closer to his lower body. I don't know about him but I was feeling something. My body betrayed me, I was desperate now.He didn’t stop.His mouth traced a line along my throat, lingering just below my ear. His arms tightened around me, instinctive, protective, and before I realized it, my legs wrapped around his waist as he lifted me effortlessly.“You’re impossible,” he muttered.I was sliding up and down while his fingers dig into my ass cheek.I smiled against his temple. “You don’t sound like you hate it.”He carried me to the sofa, laying me back carefully—as if control still mattered, as if he was afraid of himself. He hovered over me for a second, breathing hard
My Forbidden Fruit Chapter 75
I led her into the kitchen and gently guided her to one of the chairs by the island.She sat down stiffly, her shoulders folding inward the moment she did. Then—quietly—she began to cry.No sobs. No sounds.Just tears slipping down her face as she stared at the floor, her hands clenched tightly in her lap as if she were holding herself together by force alone.“Do you want anything?” I asked softly. “Water… tea?”She shook her head once. Then she looked up at me, eyes red-rimmed, searching.“You are…?” she asked, her voice hesitant, unfinished.I recognized it instantly.A diversion.She didn’t want to talk about what had just happened. About Lucas. About the pain clawing through her.So I answered.“Evelyn.I’m–” I stopped not knowing what to say.“Are you his-” I knew what she was implying.“My parents are no more,” I said quietly.Her eyes widened slightly.“After they died, Enzo’s step–older brother, Antonio, and his wife Lily became my guardians. Antonio was my father’s best fr
My Forbidden Fruit Chapter 74
I couldn’t stay inside anymore.The garden air was cool against my skin, the scent of damp grass and night-blooming flowers doing nothing to slow the frantic rhythm in my chest. I paced along the stone path, fingers curling and uncurling at my sides, my heartbeat so loud it felt like it might echo.What if this is connected?The thought lodged itself deep, refusing to loosen.The email.The timing.The woman.Lucas’s reaction.None of it felt random.Enough.I turned sharply and headed back toward the house, my steps quickening as I crossed the lawn. With every step closer to Enzo’s study, a strange unease crept up my spine—an instinctive warning, quiet but insistent.Something was wrong.I was only a few feet from the door when I heard it.Raised voices.Not Enzo’s.A woman’s—sharp, trembling beneath fury.“You left me there, and you want me to trust you?” she cried. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Lucas— I th—”Her voice broke.The sound cut straight through me.I didn’t knock.I pu
My Forbidden Fruit Chapter 73
Before I could even think about replying, before my thumb could hover over the screen again, voices drifted up from downstairs. They were muted at first, polite, and unfamiliar. I paused. My phone was still warm in my hand, the email pressing heavily against my thoughts. I quickly locked the screen, flipped it face-down onto the bed, and stood up. For a moment, I debated staying put, pretending I hadn’t heard anything. But curiosity and something sharper took over. I stepped into the hallway and slowly descended the stairs, my hand brushing the banister, my movements careful. The voices became clearer with each step. At the bottom, I saw her. She stood near the entrance, framed by the soft glow of the foyer lights. She was a beautiful woman in a pale pink dress, the fabric flowing lightly around her legs as if it barely touched her skin. Her hair fell in long, loose curls down her back, glossy and purposeful, as if she had taken her time getting ready. She looked composed. Too com
My Forbidden Fruit Chapter 72
The house was unusually quiet.Enzo had retreated into his study after the garden, the heavy door closing with a soft finality that felt deliberate. I didn’t stop him. Lately, we orbited each other carefully, like two people afraid that one wrong step would reopen wounds still bleeding beneath the surface.I went to my room.The moment I closed the door behind me, the composure I’d worn all afternoon slipped. Not shattered—just loosened. I kicked off my shoes, sat on the edge of the bed, and leaned back against the headboard, staring at nothing.Out of habit more than intent, I picked up my phone.Scroll. Refresh. Scroll.News I didn’t care about. Messages I didn’t want to answer. Silence from the one person I wasn’t allowed to miss.My thumb paused.The screen lit up again.New EmailThe sender’s address meant nothing to me.But the subject line did.Rosemary Hospital.My pulse jumped, sharp and immediate.I hadn’t given that email to anyone. I’d been careful. Discreet. Anonymous whe
My Forbidden Fruit Chapter 71
Two months later.The grass beneath me was cool, still holding onto the memory of morning dew, even though the sun had long climbed higher. I lay flat on my back, arms loose at my sides, staring up at a sky too blue for the way my chest felt.Somewhere above, leaves whispered against one another. The garden was alive—birds calling, insects humming softly—but I felt detached from it all, as though I were watching life through glass.Two months.That was how long it had been since everything cracked open.In those weeks, I had searched.Not casually. Not half-heartedly.I searched through old files locked away in rooms no one visited anymore. Through documents my parents never meant for me to read.Through hospital records, boarding school reports, unsigned letters, and fragments of conversations that had once floated past me as a child, unnoticed and unimportant.I searched for the truth about my parents’ death.And for Amelia’s disappearance.What I found was never enough. Pieces wit
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