Ch 11

I’d mastered the art of being unseen.

I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would either scream or fall apart, and neither would satisfy her. Not in the way she wanted.

Celeste had walked closer to him, each click of her heels echoing off the marble like a countdown. She stopped beside him and, without hesitation, placed her hand on his shoulder. Her fingers curled there, possessive.

Like she had always had the right and he had not stopped her. He didn’t shrug her off.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to break something. Instead, I stood there, chest heaving, fists clenched so tightly my nails cut into my palms.

“I see she’s speechless,” Celeste said lightly, glancing back at me. “Or maybe just overwhelmed. This house can do that to you. Or maybe it’s the man who comes with it.” She leaned closer to him. “He has that effect, doesn’t he?”

Alessandro sipped his drink.

“You’re not staying here,” I finally said, voice hoarse.

Celeste’s eyes lit with delight. “Of course I am.” she had said.

Alessandro cut in, cool and dismissive. “Luca will take you shopping tomorrow.”

I blinked. “What?”

He turned toward me fully now, glass still in hand. “You need clothes that fit your new status.” Why not you, I wanted to say,

But Celeste’s laughter plunged the words from my mouth. “Oh, I love that. ‘New status.’ That’s adorable.”

I didn’t say a word. I turned and walked out.

But my hands were trembling. Rage burned through me, scorching my skin from the inside out. I didn’t know what to do with it, where to place it. So I swallowed it, again, and let it settle like poison in my chest.

The bedroom felt colder when I returned.

The same silk sheets, the same soft lighting, the same scent of him still clinging to the pillows. But now it all felt like a joke. A trap disguised as luxury.

I sat on the edge of the bed and let my breath shake.

Who was she?

Why did she walk in like she had keys to every room and memory in his life?

And why. . . why had he just let her?

I pulled the covers over myself and curled inward. The walls felt like they were closing in. My chest ached from the tightness of holding it all. Tears came before I could stop them. Hot, silent, and angry.

I didn’t know what I was to him. A prize? A pawn? A joke?

The girl he married barely existed in his eyes now. Not with Celeste here. Not with the tension simmering beneath every interaction like we were all playing roles in a theater none of us agreed to.

I lay there, eyes open, heart thudding.

Hours passed.

At some point, my body gave out and I slipped into the edge of sleep.

And then, Voices that seem like they were outside the bedroom door.

I didn’t move, but my eyes snapped open. My ears strained.

“I want it done by Friday,” Alessandro’s voice said, muffled but unmistakable.

“That soon?” Celeste replied. Her voice was amused, but there was an edge to it now.

“I want the engagement party finalized. Invitations sent and everything.”

Engagement party, my heart stopped, for whom?

I sat up slowly, as if movement would make the words disappear.

“You’re serious,” Celeste said. “After all this?”

“Yes, the reason don't matter to you, Just show up and do as I say” Alessandro replied.

Another pause. Then the soft, victorious sound of Celeste’s laugh.

I covered my mouth with both hands, heartbroken in real time.

He hadn’t denied it. He hadn’t said, “No, not an engagement party, just an event.” He hadn’t said, “Not for you.”

He was planning it with her, I don't understand any of this! My head broke, not used to this.

The sheets suddenly felt suffocating. The silk slip too tight. The diamond on my finger became foreign and cruel.

Alessandro had married me. But she was the one who got the party.

So, I stood away from my bed and I wandered without a plan, my fingers brushing the edges of gold-trimmed frames and cold marble columns. The house was a masterpiece, architecturally perfect. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Everything was too perfect. Controlled and fucking empty.

I turned another corner and found myself in a hallway I didn’t recognize. The carpet was older, darker, with a faded red pattern that had long since worn thin. The walls were lined with nothing, no paintings, no vases. Just stillness.

At the end of the hallway was a single door. Dark wood, silver handle, no guards around, and no cameras I could see.

What is this place? I tried the door and it opened.

The room inside was dark. It doesn't seem abandoned because there are no dust, and no cobwebs.

The first thing I noticed was the scent, leather, aged paper, and something older, like the weight of secrets too long kept.

Books lined the walls, stretching up to the high ceiling. A fireplace, cold and unlit, took up most of the far wall. A single leather chair sat in front of it, angled slightly, like someone had just stood up moments ago. But the air told a different story, like no one had been here in a long time.

I stepped in carefully, closing the door behind me with a soft click. Maybe I might just find a secret I can trade for my freedom. I would like to be away from this world and a husband who doesn't love me.

The desk in the center was heavy, antique, and organized. A crystal decanter sat unopened beside a stack of ledgers and what looked like a hand-bound journal. But it was the photo frame that caught my eye.

I walked toward it slowly, afraid of what I might see.

The boy looked like Alessandro. He couldn’t have been more than ten, his hair shorter, wilder, and his expression softer, though the eyes were the same. Cold and watchful. A boy learning to build walls before he had even had the chance to be a child.

Beside him stood the man I’d met days ago, Alessandro’s father. The resemblance between them was brutal. Sharp lines. Dominant posture. Even the way they held their hands, fisted and controlled.

But there was no mother, no warmth, just power captured in stillness.

I picked up the frame and turned it over. Nothing written. No date. No inscription. Like she’d never existed at all.

The chill that ran through me wasn’t from the air. It was from knowing that the man I had married came from this. A place where love wasn’t documented. Only legacy.

I set the photo down carefully. My fingers wandered across the desk.

The ledgers were filled with numbers, names, and dates. Most of them blurred together, meaningless to me, until I spotted a name I recognized.

Tomaso Delucchi.

He’d been on the news last year. Found dead in his home. The official story was suicide.

But his name was here. Listed under “Owed” Crossed out in red.

I swallowed hard and flipped further through the pages. More names of politicians and judges. Men I had only ever seen in headlines or on the nine o’clock news.

All tied to Alessandro and his Vanilli family.

I reached for the journal. The leather was smooth, worn at the edges. A name was embossed on the spine in faded gold: E. Vanilli.

Alessandro’s father.

I didn’t open it. I couldn’t. Instead, something else pulled my attention. The back wall, between two tall shelves, there was something… off.

A thin line in the wood. Barely visible unless you were looking. But now that I had seen it, I couldn’t unsee it.

I walked to it slowly, and I pressed my palm flat against the wood.

Nothing. Then I let my fingers drift along the edge. There, I felt a soft groove.

A whisper of something mechanical shifted beneath my touch, then a click.

The panel gave way with a soft, eerie creak. A section of the bookshelf moved inward, revealing a narrow passage. Stone walls. Low light. It disappeared into the dark like the beginning of a nightmare.

I froze.

The air behind it was colder and heavier. Like the walls themselves remembered things they should not have remembered.

I didn’t step in immediately, but I stood there, breath caught in my throat, heart hammering like a warning. He had secrets, deep ones, and I had just opened the door to one of them. Maybe I could use some in exchange for my freedom was my first thought.

But my fingers trembled as I reached out to pull the panel closed again.

I wasn’t supposed to be here. This room, this truth, wasn’t meant for me. But now that I had seen it and been here, there is no way I could forget it.

And I couldn’t unfeel the way something inside me had shifted the moment that hidden door swung open.

Alessandro was keeping more than just me locked away.

I checked the time, it was now morning, and I know for a fact that Luka must have gone to my room and seen it vacant, and then run back to report to his boss of my disappearance.

And suddenly, I didn't want to be found! Maybe it would be fun to stay in here the whole day! The whole shopping be damned!