The Spark of Defiance

Chiara let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The moment Lorenzo and his friends stepped out of the restaurant, her shoulders dropped. Her chest felt lighter, but her heart was still racing.

Why was he staring at me like that? she thought, biting her lip. Does he remember my face from that night? Or… could he actually like me?

The thought made her laugh nervously under her breath. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the thud of her heartbeat. “Oh my God,” she whispered to herself. “Maybe… maybe I stand a chance to win his heart.”

Her reflection caught her eye as she passed the restroom. She stopped, turned, and walked in. The mirror showed a face still flushed from the rush of it all — ocean-blue eyes wide, lips slightly parted, chestnut hair messy from the evening.

For a moment she just stared, then straightened her back.

“No,” she whispered firmly. “If I want to stand a chance, I need to look like it.”

She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, adjusting her blouse, tilting her chin higher. A small smile tugged at her lips. It was the first time in a long time she felt this alive.

The thought grew bolder. I need a new look. Something fresh. Something that makes me feel like me again.

By the next afternoon, she found herself at one of the city’s boutiques. She had promised herself a change, and she was here to make it happen.

But as she stepped inside, her steps slowed. Standing by the perfume counter were Aleira and Ariana.

Aleira spotted her first. Her green eyes lit up with mischief. “Well, well. What are you doing here?”

Chiara arched a brow, rolling her eyes. “What kind of question is that? This is a store. Obviously, I came to shop. Or did you think it was a bank and I came here to withdraw?” Her tone was sharp, dripping with sarcasm.

Aleira’s smile froze. Ariana’s face hardened. “Chiara! Don’t talk like that. Show some respect to your elder sister.”

Chiara gave a small, bitter laugh. “She’s not my elder sister. We’re the same age. Not even a day apart.” Her voice was steady, her eyes daring them to argue.

Ariana drew in a sharp breath, but Aleira raised a hand, stopping her. Her lips curved in a cruel smile. “Don’t worry, Mom. She’ll respect me soon enough. Once I marry Lorenzo, she won’t have a choice.”

Chiara froze, her heart jolting. She forced her face to stay calm, but Aleira’s words burned through her chest like fire.

Chiara’s lips curved into a cold smile. “Aleira, you’re chasing smoke. Do you really think Lorenzo will marry you? Stop dreaming. Lorenzo is mine, and you’ll never have him.”

Ariana’s voice cut in sharp. “Watch your tongue, young lady.”

Chiara turned to her slowly, her eyes blazing. “Watch my tongue? What is there to watch? I was the one who slept with Lorenzo, not Aleira.

Chiara gave a bitter laugh. “What tongue? I’m only telling the truth. If we’re talking about that night, it wasn’t Aleira. It was me.

The air went still.

Ariana’s face twisted with anger. “You are more shameless than I thought. Going around spreading your legs with no iota of shame.”

Chiara’s hands trembled, but her voice came firm. “I wasn’t spreading anything. Your precious golden daughter drugged me. That’s the truth.”

Aleira stepped closer, her green eyes flashing. “Any proof?” she said coldly, tilting her chin. “Be careful with the things you say, Chiara. Don’t play brave when you know deep down you’re nothing but weak.”

Her words cut like knives, and she smirked as she walked past Chiara, her perfume trailing in the air like poison.

Chiara stood frozen, her chest rising and falling, but her eyes stayed fixed ahead. For the first time, she didn’t back down.

“It’s okay, girls. You can settle this later. I don’t want Aleira going late to the DeLuca dinner,” their father, Adrian Vitale, said firmly.

“Dinner?” Chiara’s brows pulled together.

“Yes,” Ariana cut in with a big grin, her eyes narrowing in pride. “Sophie DeLuca invited my daughter-in-law to a family dinner this evening.”

Chiara blinked. “Is Lorenzo even aware of this?” she asked quietly.

Ariana’s smile only widened. “Does it matter?” she said, waving her hand like Chiara’s words meant nothing.

“I don’t have time for this conversation. See you later, girls,” Aleira said as she turned, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. Her voice was full of smugness, and her perfume lingered in the air long after she walked away.

The words sank into Chiara’s chest like heavy stones. Sophie DeLuca had invited Aleira. Not her. Hearing that made Chiara feel small, defeated, almost erased again.

When she got home that evening, she sat on her bed and opened her laptop. If they thought they could push her aside, she wasn’t going to make it easy. She typed in “Lorenzo DeLuca” and began searching.

Page after page, article after article — business news, magazine features, interviews. She read everything she could find, taking notes about his likes, his dislikes, his habits. She studied his words carefully, trying to understand the kind of man he was beneath the suit and title.

Her eyes were heavy when something caught her attention. A job posting.

Lorenzo DeLuca’s company was looking for a personal assistant.

Chiara’s heart leapt. She felt like she had just struck gold. This was her chance. A direct way to get close to him.

Without hesitation, she pulled up the form and began typing. Her hands shook, but her face carried a small, determined smile.

This time, she wasn’t going to let Aleira win.