Chapter 4: The trap with teeth

I tried to breathe, but it was like inhaling through stone. Marcelo’s body caged me against the wall, his shadow swallowing mine whole.

“Elena,” he said, my stolen name slicing the air like a blade. His voice dropped lower, so low I felt it in my bones. “Do not waste my time.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean,” I whispered, and the moment the words left my lips, I hated myself for saying them.

His eyes narrowed. Cold, assessing. “Don’t.”

That was all he said. Just that one word, and it dismantled me.

Elena hadn’t told me any of this. She’d given me her makeup, her clothes, her mannerisms. She’d drilled me in the rule until my ears rang with it: say little, obey, dance to his music. But she hadn’t said this. She hadn’t told me that she’d stolen from him.

Stolen money.

I blinked, and all I could think was—of course. Of course Elena hadn’t told me. Of course she had pushed me into this mansion like a sacrificial lamb, smiling that poisonous smile of hers, knowing exactly what she was doing.

And now I was the one with Marcelo’s hand around my wrist, Marcelo’s voice in my ear.

“You will tell me,” he murmured, his tone flat, terrifying in its restraint. “Or you will regret it.”

Panic roared in my chest. I couldn’t move, couldn’t even summon the strength to lie. And yet—lying was my only chance.

But lying to him felt suicidal.

“I… I don’t have it,” I stammered.

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

Marcelo tilted his head, studying me. “What did you say?”

My throat was closing. “I—I don’t have your money.”

The silence that followed was worse than shouting. His hand released my wrist, but it wasn’t mercy—it was a dismissal, like I wasn’t even worth the effort of restraining. He stepped back just enough for me to breathe, but his eyes never left mine.

And I realized something awful.

He didn’t believe me.

Not because he doubted the words, but because he was so certain of who I was. In his mind, I was Elena. And Elena was guilty.

I wasn’t Rae anymore. I wasn’t even a girl pretending. In Marcelo’s world, there was no pretending. There was only truth—and Elena’s truth was betrayal.

“Interesting,” Marcelo said finally, and the way the word slid from his lips made my knees weaken. He was calm. Too calm. That was worse.

He turned his back on me, walking toward the head of the table at the corner of the room as though nothing had happened, as though my fear was dessert at the end of dinner.

I stared at the door, praying for a dismissal that never came. My eyes must’ve been too eager, too obvious. He noticed.

Marcelo’s voice came low, almost casual. Too casual.

“Have you forgotten that you live here, Elena?”. He said as he poured himself a glass of wine with unhurried precision. He took a slow sip from his glass, finishing it like every drop mattered, like he had all the time in the world. The sound of the liquid slipping past his lips was the only thing I could hear.

Then he reached for the bottle. My eyes followed the motion, his hand steady as he poured again. But halfway through, he stopped. The wine glugged once, then stilled.

His hand hovered mid-pour.

The room froze with him.

It was like even the air held its breath, waiting for whatever came next.

Then the calm snapped. He hurled the glass at the floor, the sharp crack exploding through the silence. Red wine bled across the marble, shards glittering like teeth.

“I wonder what makes you think I’ll let you slip away as easily as last time!” His roar filled the room, rattling through me as much as the table beneath his fist.

I flinched, my pulse leaping painfully.

He hurled the bottle next, slammed it down so hard the neck snapped, wine pouring in a dark stream at his feet. The air smelled sharp, bitter.

“You played me for a fool before!” His voice shook with rage, his chest rising and falling like a man holding himself back from worse. He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, every inch of him a threat. “But not again. Not ever again.”

The monster in him was fully awake now—eyes black with fury, his jaw set so tightly I thought it might break.

And then, just as suddenly, the storm calmed. He straightened, shoulders loosening, voice dropping to something quiet as he walked towards me, too close. Something far more dangerous.

“I don’t care how you’ll get the money back,” he said, almost whispering now. He reached out, his hand brushing my chin, forcing my gaze to his.

“But you’re going to stay right here while you do.”

“You have three days,” he said throwing his gaze me.

My stomach twisted. “Three… days?”

. “To return what you stole.”

“I didn’t—” The protest slipped out before I could stop it.

When he turned his head, his eyes locked on me like a predator’s, and my heart stopped beating.

“Choose your words carefully, Elena.”

My lips sealed shut. The air was suffocating, the silence unbearable.

He finished pouring, raised the glass, and sipped. As if the conversation was over. As if my world hadn’t just been sentenced.

I stood there, rooted, trembling.

Three days.

Three days to find money I had never stolen. Three days to survive Elena’s trap.

Marcelo’s gaze slid over me once more—slow, deliberate, invasive. His voice was quieter now, almost intimate.

“And if you fail…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

His eyes told me everything.

I would regret it.

Deeply.

Forever.

The chandelier light caught the edge of his jaw, gilding his face in cruel perfection. His aura pressed down on me, relentless, terrifying.

And for the first time, I understood why Elena had forced me to whisper his name over and over, to practice silence like a prayer.

It wasn’t preparation. It was a warning.

Because once Marcelo Bernardo set his eyes on you, he owned you.

And you could never say his name again.

Elena’s warning clung to me like smoke I couldn’t wash off: if I told Marcelo I wasn’t her, there would be consequences. I didn’t know what that meant exactly, but with her money and her power, I wasn’t about to test it.

Now that I was actually here, sitting in the middle of this nightmare, all I wanted was to get it over with. Seal the deal, make sure I’d get paid, and then call Elena at midnight so she could send someone to pick me up. I just wanted to leave this place, go back to the city I came from, and when the money was safe in my hands—when my mom and sister had what they needed—then I’d confront Elena about the mess she had dragged me into.

Until then, I had to play along. Smile when I had to. Stay quiet when it was safer. And pray no one saw through me.