5

I spend the rest of the day locked inside my new room, staring at the ceiling as the shadows stretch slowly across the walls, every corner of this lavish room reminding me that I'm trapped.

I cry until my throat is raw, my mind spiraling back to the quiet nights in my father's study.

I remember the evening I told him Julian had proposed. I was so excited back then. I truly believed I was the luckiest woman on the planet.

However, my father hadn't smiled.

He had stood there, looking out the window, slowly swirling the amber whiskey in his glass.

“There is something dark in that boy's eyes, Bianca,” he had warned me, his voice heavy with concern. “A negative aura. A coldness that doesn't belong to a man in love. I don't trust him. You're my daughter. You could have any man. Why him?”

In the end, he had been completely right. And my blindness had cost him his life.

The guilt suffocates me until my eyes grow heavy, and I finally drift into a restless, exhausted sleep.

~~~

I wake up to a strange sensation. Something warm and firm is slowly tracing the curve of my jaw, lingering just beneath my chin as though memorizing every inch of my face.

For a heartbeat, I think I'm still dreaming.

Then my eyes snap open, but there's only darkness.

My heart skips violently against my ribs as panic tears through me. I gasp, instinct taking over as I scramble backward, my hand blindly fumbling over the nightstand, knocking into a glass of water before finally finding the lamp switch.

Click.

The bedside lamp comes on, flooding the room with a warm, golden glow. My breath catches. It's Marco.

He sits casually on the edge of my mattress as though he owns the room.

Technically he does.

His suit jacket is gone, along with his tie, leaving him in just his white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing strong, vein-lined muscles.

A few top buttons are undone, and his dark hair is slightly tousled, as though he'd been running his fingers through it for hours, making him look even more dangerous. More untouchable, and more devastatingly handsome.

His sharp gray eyes never leave mine. They don't blink. They simply study me with an intensity that makes my pulse stumble.

I hold his gaze.

And for a terrifying, breathless second, as I look into those sharp, piercing gray eyes, the room around me fades away. Marco disappears, and I see another face.

A boy.

No… Not just any boy.

The boy from high school. My rival. My tormentor.

The one person who had taught me that getting too close to anyone only ended in pain.

The memory crashes into me so suddenly that my stomach twists.

It was because of him that I had spent years terrified of intimacy. Even after Julian and I started dating, I kept him at arm's length for two whole years, never letting him go all the way with me.

I blink hard. But the resemblance refuses to disappear.

Why in God's name does Marco suddenly remind me of him? Why do they share those exact same, lethal gray eyes that have tormented my dreams for years?

I shake my head violently, forcing the memory away.

Get a grip, Bianca.

"Why did you cry?" Marco asks, his voice a low rumble as his gray eyes search my face.

I clench my jaw, the memory of Francesca and the cruel blonde girl flashing in my mind.

I decide right then not to tell him about his mother. Not yet. I am not going to be a weak pushover who runs to her fiancé at the first sign of trouble.

If Francesca wants a war, she'll get one. But until our wedding vows are exchanged, I'll play my role as the weak pushover perfectly.

"Just thinking about my father," I say, keeping my voice soft. "The grief... it comes in waves."

Marco holds my gaze for a long, silent moment. His eyes roam over my face, seemingly searching for the slightest crack in my carefully built facade.

Apparently, he finds none.

He rises from the bed.

"Come downstairs," he says. "It's dinner time." Then, after a brief pause, he adds. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

…~...

After he leaves, I climb out of bed and head into the bathroom. I splash cool water over my face, washing away the sleep and the dried tracks of my tears. Taking a deep breath, I stare at my reflection until I regain my composure.

Back in the bedroom, I change into one of the new dresses hanging in my now fully stocked closet, a sleek, form-fitting emerald green gown that hugs every curve.

When I walk down into the grand dining room, the tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife.

There are a few new faces at the long mahogany table, but my eyes immediately lock onto the blonde girl from earlier, who has boldly seated herself right next to Marco’s wearing a smug smile as though it already belongs to her.

I don't bother with her.

For now.

As I approach, Marco stands, and without sparing her glance, he gently takes my hand, his grip firm and possessive, and pulls out the seat to his right for me.

The blonde's smug smile disappears, replaced by a sharp scowl.

"Thank you," I murmur, forcing a small smile despite the grief still weighing heavily on my heart.

Francesca sits at the head of the table, her eyes following my every move like a hawk tracking its prey.

Marco begins introducing me to several of the family's high-ranking associates gathered around the table, but before he can finish, the atmosphere shifts.

The temperature seems to plummet.

Heavy, measured footsteps echo through the grand archway.

"Hello, family."

I go completely still as every muscle in my body locks up.

That voice.

It is matured now.

Deeper, colder, and dangerous.

But I would recognize it anywhere. It has haunted my nightmares for years.

A suffocating silence falls over the dining room as Marco rises from his seat and gestures toward the newcomer.

"Bianca," he says, "meet my younger brother, Luca. He finally returned after years abroad for our wedding."

My blood turns to ice.

I slowly lift my head, my eyes locking onto the tall, muscular man standing at the entrance of the dining room.

Luca.

The boy from my high school days.

The fierce rival I had competed against in everything, fighting for the top spot, until the day I took a twisted prank far too far.

I had been jealous.

I had been reckless.

I had lied to Luca's girlfriend, telling her he had fallen into the reservoir. In a panic, she had rushed to the water and jumped in to save him.

She drowned before anyone could reach her.

Luca had hated me with a passion that burned like hellfire.

Blinded by grief and consumed by rage, he had cornered me in the principal's office, almost taking me by force before vanishing into the night, never to be seen again.

Until now.

Luca steps into the light of the chandelier, and his eyes land directly on me.

Recognition flashes across his face. Then… A slow, terrifying smirk curls his lips.

His gray eyes, the exact same color as Marco's, burn into mine, carrying years of hatred, pain, and vengeance.

They promise only one thing.

My destruction.