Chapter 7: Maybe I Just Might

Elena/Ileana Pov

It felt good to sleep in an actual bed. It wasn’t as comfortable as the ones I was used to in Romania, but it was still better than the bed in the mental asylum.

The first thing I did after settling into Ileana’s room was open her wardrobe.

I wasn’t expecting much, but even I was surprised by what I found.

Hand-me-downs.

Most of the dresses were old-fashioned, some visibly worn at the seams, while others looked as though they had belonged to someone considerably larger than Ileana. There were a few decent pieces, but nothing that suggested the owner came from one of Verona’s wealthiest families.

I picked up a pale blue dress and examined it.

The Belluccis had enough money to dress an army, yet their daughter had been left with clothes other people no longer wanted.

Charming.

I returned the dress to its hanger and checked the remaining shelves. A few pairs of shoes, some old accessories, and a small collection of personal belongings completed the wardrobe.

That was practically Ileana’s entire life.

I was still examining a pair of shoes when the bedroom door opened without warning.

Lucia walked in, followed by Bianca.

Neither bothered to knock.

I straightened and put the shoes back where I’d found them, my posture stiffening as I watched them invade my space.

Lucia’s sharp, critical gaze swept over the room before settling on me.

“Tomorrow is the D’Angelos’ marriage alliance dinner,” she announced, her voice cold and commanding. “And there are a few things you need to understand before we attend.”

I waited, keeping my expression entirely deadpan.

She seemed irritated that I didn’t immediately cower or respond.

“Alessandro D’Angelo has insisted that you be the one to marry Lorenzo,” she continued, her lips pressing into a thin, bitter line. “We don’t know why he’s so determined to choose you when Bianca is just as much Vittorio’s daughter as you are.”

Bianca’s expression tightened at the mention of her name, her hazel eyes flashing with ugly resentment.

“Honestly, it’s ridiculous,” Bianca muttered, crossing her arms defensively. “What could he possibly see in you?”

I lowered my eyes, keeping my face completely blank while my mind quietly filed the information away.

Interesting.

So the D’Angelo patriarch himself had requested Ileana. That was a detail worth remembering.

“Whatever his reasons, you will not embarrass this family tomorrow,” Lucia continued, her voice sharp with unspoken threats. “You will behave yourself, and you will do exactly as you’re told.”

She paused, waiting for an answer.

I gave her none.

Bianca stepped forward, her posture rigid with hostility as she barged into my personal space.

“Listen carefully, Ileana. When we get to that dinner tomorrow, you will refuse the proposal.”

I slowly raised my eyes to hers, letting cold emerald green meet her furious gaze.

“Do you understand me?” Bianca demanded, her fingers twitching at her sides. “You will tell them you don’t want to marry Lorenzo.”

She laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that held no genuine humor.

“As if he’d want you anyway. Lorenzo has always loved me. The only reason you ever had a chance with him was because he hadn’t figured out what a pathetic little thing you were.”

Her lips curled into a cruel sneer as she leaned closer, her voice dripping with malicious satisfaction.

“Five whole years, Ileana. He never missed you. Not once.”

My fingers curled slightly at my sides.

The sheer audacity of this girl was astounding. She had helped destroy Ileana’s life, stolen the man Ileana had once cared for, and now stood in front of me expecting gratitude for the privilege of listening to her brag.

I could think of several ruthless ways to make her bleed for opening her mouth.

Unfortunately, slaughtering her right now wouldn't help me get closer to Adonis D'Angelo.

I needed to stay under the radar, learn what I could about this family, and find a way into the D’Angelo estate. That was my priority. Not Bianca’s ridiculous jealousy, not Lorenzo, and certainly not this foolish marriage.

I forced my expression into the vacant, docile look I imagined the broken girl named Ileana had once worn.

Lucia watched me for a moment, her brow furrowing with sudden suspicion and irritation.

“Are you understanding us? Are you dumb? Are you mute now? Did they torture you so badly that you became mute?”

“I understand.”

The answer came out so soft and small that even I was surprised by how naturally this frail voice mimicked weakness.

Lucia appeared satisfied with my submissive tone.

“Good. I’ll send a maid to bring you something proper to wear tomorrow. We wouldn’t want the D’Angelos thinking we’re not taking care of you, would we?”

The sheer irony nearly made me smile.

Of course not. Heaven forbid anyone discover how the Belluccis treated their own daughter behind closed doors.

Lucia turned toward the door with an air of dismissive authority. “Remember what I said.”

Then she left.

Bianca, however, remained where she was.

I watched her through lowered, hooded lashes as she reached back and closed the door behind her mother.

The moment the latch clicked shut, her fake composure melted away completely, revealing pure, unadulterated venom.

“Do you know how much I hate you?” she hissed.

I said nothing, simply staring at her with wide, unblinking eyes.

“Five years ago, I made Father believe you were crazy. It wasn’t even difficult. You were so desperate for someone to believe you that you practically helped me do it.”

She laughed, a dark, vindictive sound as she clearly relished the memory of breaking another human being.

“And look where you ended up. Five years in that madhouse, while I got everything you wanted.”

She took another threatening step toward me, trying to intimidate me with her proximity.

“Lorenzo loves me. He always will. So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll refuse that proposal tomorrow. Stay away from him, or I’ll make sure you end up back in that institution.”

I slowly lifted my head, shedding the timid shadow I had been projecting.

For the first time since she entered the room, I looked directly into the depths of her eyes with an icy, dangerous clarity.

“And what if I decide to marry him?”

Bianca stopped dead in her tracks, her smug expression faltering for a fraction of a second. “What?”

“What if I decide to accept the proposal?”

Her face twisted in utter disbelief, quickly giving way to mounting panic. “You wouldn’t dare.”

I tilted my head slightly to the side, a familiar, subtle gesture of dark amusement as I studied her frantic reaction. “Why not?”

“Because he doesn’t love you!” she snapped, her voice rising an octave as her composure began to crumble. “He loves me! You’d only humiliate yourself. Everyone would laugh at you, and Lorenzo would never—”

She stopped, breathing heavily as she tried to regain control.

I almost admired her stamina. Almost.

“You think marrying him will make him love you?” she spat, desperate to reassert her dominance. “You think you can take him away from me just because his grandfather wants this ridiculous arrangement? You’re nothing to him!”

I watched her unravel right in front of me, and something dark and sharp inside me began to stir.

It wasn't affection for Lorenzo. I couldn’t care less about the weak, pathetic man.

No, this was something much simpler: pure, unadulterated entertainment.

Bianca had entered my room utterly convinced she could frighten me into obedience. She had expected the same frightened, fragile girl she had tormented for years.

Instead, she was standing in front of a woman who had spent a lifetime as an assassin, learning exactly how to recognize a target's weakness and exploit it without mercy.

And right now, Bianca was practically advertising hers.

A slow, dark smile crept across my lips, sharp and unhinged.

She noticed.

Her furious rant faltered completely, a flicker of genuine unease washing over her features. “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing.”

“Stop looking at me like that!” she yelled, her hands curling into tight, frantic fists.

I blinked, adopting a mockingly innocent expression. “Like what?”

She glared at me, her chest heaving as she struggled to hold onto her anger. “You’d better do as you’re told, Ileana. I’m warning you!”

“Of course,” I whispered, letting my voice drop back into that soft, submissive tone.

That fake obedience seemed to infuriate her even more than open defiance.

She muttered a harsh curse under her breath, shot me one last furious, unsettled look, and stormed toward the exit.

“Don’t you dare forget what I said!”

The heavy door slammed shut behind her, rattling slightly in its frame.

Silence settled over the room once more.

I stood still in the quiet space, replaying the entire interaction in my mind.

The marriage alliance was an unexpected complication, but complications were just opportunities in disguise.

I had no intention of marrying Lorenzo or anyone else, for that matter. I had already seen Lorenzo’s picture during my research and knew enough about his character to understand that he wasn’t the kind of man I needed at my back.

Adonis was.

However, Adonis wasn’t expected back for another few days.

The dinner was tomorrow night.

If I refused the proposal outright, I might lose my immediate ticket into the D’Angelo household. If I accepted, I would instantly gain direct access to a powerful family whose inner workings I still needed to unravel.

And, as Bianca had just so delightfully demonstrated, accepting would cause her an exquisite amount of distress.

I glanced back toward the closed door, the dark smile returning to my face.

“Seeing how worked up you are, Bianca, I’d pay good money to see the look on your face if I actually accepted that marriage.”

I considered the tactical advantages for another quiet moment.

Then I gave a small, amused laugh that echoed softly in the quiet room.

“Maybe I just might.”