SARAHThe room was quiet.Soft morning light slipped through the curtains, brushing against my face. I didn’t move. My back ached from the stiff guest sofa, but I didn’t care. I was still in the same gown from the party. It smelled faintly of perfume and shame. The air was heavy. I stared at the ceiling, letting the silence wrap around me.No tears. Not this time.My mind was loud, though. It kept showing me things I didn’t want to see. Sofia’s smile. Marco’s face when he saw her. The hug. The way his arms hesitated but didn’t push her away. And the way the room seemed to shift the second she arrived. Like I didn’t belong anymore.I finally sat up, slowly, letting my feet touch the cold marble floor. It grounded me. Reminded me I was still here, whether they wanted me or not.I opened the door and walked out, not bothering to fix my hair. The hallway was dim, quiet, as if the house was waiting. Watching. I walked toward our old room—Marco’s and mine.The door was open just a little. I
SARAHThe room was quiet. Still. Only the soft hum of the chandelier above and the faint clink of glass as I lifted it to my lips. I hadn’t changed out of my gown. I didn’t want to. The fabric still smelled like perfume and the tension of the night. It held the weight of every stare, every silence, every unspoken win. I liked that. I wanted to feel it just a little longer.I sat by the tall window, where the curtains moved just slightly with the breeze. My glass was half full, filled with something dark and strong. Aged. Bitter. It burned a little, but I liked that too. It kept me sharp.I took another sip, slow, and looked out at the quiet estate grounds. The De Luca name still echoed through this house, and tonight, it echoed louder than ever. Because tonight, I reminded everyone who still owned the room.A slow smile crept across my face. I let myself relax in the chair, letting the images from the night wash over me like a slow film.Sofia’s entrance. That was the moment everythin
SARAHHe stood there, just past the broken door, breathing heavy like he’d run through a storm. We stared at each other for a second that felt too long. I didn’t say anything. I just turned around and folded my arms, my back facing him.I didn’t want him to see my face.He stayed by the door. I could hear the slow steps as he looked around the room. This room had been mine when I first came. It still had that faint lavender scent. Still had that cold untouched silence. He didn’t say anything at first, but I knew he was thinking it too. This was where I used to sleep, where I used to cry when nobody was watching. Where I had been invisible.“Sarah,” he finally said, his voice low, softer than before.I didn’t respond.He tried again. “I didn’t know she was coming.”I still said nothing. I held my arms tighter across my chest.“I didn’t know,” he said again, like if he repeated it enough it would fix something. “I was just as shocked as you.”I turned my head slightly. “Were you?”He to
SARAHThe applause from the auction still rang in my ears even as the room slowly shifted into its closing rhythm. I hadn’t moved from where I stood after that ridiculous spectacle..The crowd was thinning out now. The music had dropped to a soft background hum, and the room was filled with quiet chatter and half-finished drinks. I was standing near the archway, hoping it would end without any more drama, but of course, Maddalena had other plans.She clinked her glass gently with a fork, drawing what was left of the guests’ attention.“I think before the night wraps up,” she said, voice warm but sharp, “we should all take a moment to appreciate Sarah.”Eyes turned. My heart ticked fast, but I smiled, swallowing the heaviness in my throat. I knew this was a test, another spotlight to see if I’d fall apart. But I wouldn’t. Not now.Maddalena continued, “She worked hard behind the scenes. Many of tonight’s arrangements wouldn’t have come together without her. Let’s raise a glass.”People
SARAHThe room felt warmer when I walked back in. Not because of the air, but because of the weight of attention. It sat heavy on my shoulders, thicker than the perfume that clung to the room. I didn’t look at anyone. Not Marco. Not the crowd. Not even the cameras that I could feel still roaming around like quiet vultures looking for their next dramatic moment.I kept my head down and moved quickly. My heels tapped quietly against the floor as I weaved through the elegant clusters of people still sipping champagne and gossiping in low, expensive voices. Some turned as I passed, others barely noticed, caught up in whatever fake conversation made them feel important. A few voices rose behind me, laughing a little too hard, too loud. Someone said something about how bold Sofia was. Another said they didn’t blame her.I didn’t flinch, but inside, my stomach tightened.I found a seat at the edge of the room. One of those small chairs meant to look delicate, meant to remind you to sit tall
SARAHI stood still, gripping the cold balcony rail like it was the only thing holding me together. The night air wrapped around my shoulders, light and sharp, but it didn’t ease anything inside me. My breaths were slow, deep, and controlled, but my hands kept trembling. I could feel it in my fingers, in the tight way they curled around the metal. My arms were tense. My jaw locked. My whole body was stuck between standing and falling apart.I stared at the skyline ahead of me, where the lights of the city shimmered across the distance. Buildings blinked like stars in motion, cars moved like ants down below, the world moving as if none of this mattered. As if I didn’t matter. The city didn’t know what had happened inside that room. And even if it did, it wouldn’t care.Marco hadn’t pulled away.That was the part I couldn’t let go of. He stood there, still, while she held onto him like she had every right. While the crowd watched, clapped, smiled like it was some beautiful story being r