Chapter 5: The estate of no return

Days passed, silent days filled with unspoken words, lingering stares, and the kind of quiet that screamed louder than any fight could. Emilia didn’t ask more questions. She didn’t fight the inevitable. She packed her bag, brushed out her thick curls, and counted the hours until she’d be gone from the only place that had ever been home—even if it never felt like one.

Now, standing outside the crumbling apartment building with her duffel bag at her feet, Emilia held Alina tightly. They’d said their goodbyes the night before, but neither could resist a final embrace.

“You’ll write me?” Alina asked, already sniffling.

Emilia nodded. “Every chance I get.”

Alina clung to her for a second longer. “Don’t let them break you.”

Emilia gave a small, sad smile. “Too late for that.”

Behind them, the taxi honked twice. Vanessa rolled her eyes and opened the door, gesturing impatiently. “Let’s go. We’re already late.”

Mark stood by the other door, his shoulders hunched, eyes everywhere but on Emilia.

With one last glance at her stepsister, Emilia climbed into the backseat. Alina stood on the curb, arms wrapped around herself, tears trailing down her cheeks as the car pulled away. She didn’t move until they were out of sight.

The drive started quietly. The city passed by in a blur of broken buildings, traffic, and the smell of exhaust and old rain. Emilia stared out the window, eyes following every cracked sidewalk, every billboard, every streetlight.

But soon, things started to change.

The streets grew cleaner. The air lighter. The cars more expensive. Trees lined the roads, freshly trimmed and perfectly green. Iron gates and marble walls rose on either side of the road like guardians of a different world. A world Emilia didn’t belong to.

She frowned, glancing at Vanessa. “This doesn’t look like the kind of place my so called Aunt Theresa would live.”

Vanessa said nothing.

Mark stared straight ahead.

Emilia looked between them, her stomach turning. “Where exactly are we going?”

Silence.

Emilia leaned forward. “I asked a question.”

Vanessa’s voice was flat. “Sit back and stay quiet.”

The driver turned onto a winding private road lined with stone statues and trimmed hedges. The gates at the end slowly opened, and Emilia’s heart slammed against her chest.

The estate beyond looked like something out of a dream—or a nightmare. Black iron fencing curved around acres of land. The mansion at the center stood like a throne—wide, powerful, and cold. A fountain gurgled quietly in the center of a circular driveway where four luxury cars gleamed under the sun.

“This isn’t—” Emilia whispered. “This isn’t family. This is something else. Where are we?”

No one answered her.

Vanessa turned to the driver. “You can leave us here.”

The car rolled to a stop. Mark got out first, not meeting Emilia’s eyes. Vanessa stepped out next, smoothing down her blazer, her expression unreadable.

Emilia sat frozen in the back seat.

Then a man appeared—tall, dressed in black, his movements sharp and efficient. He opened the car door for her.

“You must be Emilia.”

She stared up at him. “Who are you?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped aside and gestured for her to get out.

When her feet hit the ground, something deep in her gut screamed.

She turned to Vanessa. “Tell me the truth. Right now. Who are these people?”

Vanessa let out a breath like she was bored. “You’re smart. Figure it out.”

The front doors of the mansion opened, and time stopped.

He stepped out like he owned not just the house—but the air, the earth, the sun. Dante Calhoun.

His suit was black on black, perfectly tailored. His eyes were cold, piercing, like smoke trapped in ice. His face—chiseled and cruel—was the kind that made people fall in love and beg for mercy at the same time. He looked young, but something about him felt ancient, as if he’d seen the world burn and kept walking.

Emilia stared at him, stunned. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

Dante’s eyes locked on hers, unreadable.

She felt heat crawl up her neck—not attraction, but fear. Wonder. Confusion.

And then—

Betrayal.

Dante turned to Vanessa and Mark. “You’re late.”

Vanessa dipped her head slightly. “Apologies, Mr. Calhoun. It won’t happen again.”

He looked at Emilia. “This her?”

“Yes.”

Emilia’s voice was a whisper. “What is this?”

Dante didn’t answer her. He turned and walked up the steps, disappearing inside. The man in black—one of his guards, Emilia guessed—gestured for her to follow.

“I’m not going anywhere until someone tells me what’s happening!” Emilia cried.

Vanessa crossed her arms. “You’re here to stay. You’ll work off what we owe.”

Emilia stared. “You sold me?”

Mark flinched, but said nothing.

“You sold me to a mafia boss?”

Vanessa shrugged. “You wanted to be useful. Now you are.”

Emilia’s lips trembled, but no sound came out. She looked at Mark, eyes pleading.

He opened his mouth—but no words came.

She let out a breathless laugh. “Cowards.”

Neither of them looked her in the eye.

The guard stepped forward. “Miss. Inside.”

Emilia didn’t move.

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “It’s not a prison. Think of it as a job. Do your part, and maybe one day, you’ll walk free.”

“You don’t mean that,” Emilia whispered.

Vanessa smiled coldly. “Goodbye, Emilia.”

And with that, they turned and walked back to the car.

Emilia didn’t cry. Not when the engine started. Not when the car drove away. Not when it turned the corner and vanished from sight.

She just stood there—small, silent, and completely alone.

The wind caught her curls, lifting them gently, like even the air pitied her.

The guard touched her elbow. “Inside, miss.”

She nodded once, her face like stone, and stepped forward toward the mansion. Toward the unknown. Toward Dante Calhoun.

Whatever awaited her inside would change her life forever.

And she would face it with dry eyes and a steel heart.