CHAPTER SIX: A RING, A REGRET, AND A NIGHTMARE

I stood there with my eyes wide open, staring at the beautiful diamond ring Bryan De Luca had just slipped onto my finger.

Was this man seriously calling me his wife?

Without asking for my permission?

Without a wedding?

Without even knowing whether I liked him?

I forcefully pulled my hand away from his grip.

"I know what you're thinking, Doll," Bryan said, his beautiful green eyes fixed on mine. "Don't even think about taking that ring off."

His voice was calm, but the warning behind it sent chills down my spine.

I raised my chin stubbornly.

"And what if I do?"

A dangerous smile appeared on his handsome face.

"Then you'll officially become an orphan."

My heart skipped a beat.

I glanced toward my father, who was still struggling with the injuries Bryan had inflicted on him, and then at my nanny, who was holding her wounded arm.

Was he seriously threatening to kill them over a ring?

"You are a psycho, Bryan De Luca!" I shouted.

He chuckled.

"And you're the wife of a psycho, Carla De Luca."

"My name is Carla Mayday!"

"Not anymore, Doll."

I clenched my fists.

"I hate you!"

Bryan smiled as though I had just confessed my love to him.

"I love hearing that from you, Doll."

What was wrong with this man?

The more I insulted him, the happier he became.

Was his brain working backwards?

He finally turned toward my father.

"Nice doing business with you, John."

My father forced a weak smile.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. De Luca."

Bryan raised an eyebrow.

"Mr. De Luca?"

My father looked confused.

"Yes, sir?"

"I think you should start calling me son-in-law. What do you think, John?"

My mouth fell open.

Son-in-law?

Was this some kind of comedy show?

My father swallowed nervously.

"Of course, Mr. De Luca... I mean, son-in-law."

"Son-in-law, my foot!" I snapped.

Bryan laughed.

"Goodbye, Doll. But don't think we're finished."

He turned toward his guards.

"Let's go, boys."

Within seconds, the men began following him toward the entrance.

I watched Bryan walk away, hoping he would never return.

But just before stepping outside, he turned and gave me one final possessive smile.

"Take care of my ring, Doll."

I glared at him.

"Just leave!"

He chuckled and disappeared through the doorway.

The moment the last guard stepped outside, I rushed forward and slammed the door shut.

Finally!

I leaned against it and released a long breath.

For the first time since returning from school, I felt like I could breathe again.

The devil had finally left our house.

Or so I hoped.

"Carla!"

My father's angry voice made me jump.

I turned slowly.

"Dad?"

"What are you doing here at this time of the day?"

I blinked.

Was he seriously asking me that after everything that had happened?

"Dad, I..."

"Cat got your tongue?"

I lowered my head.

"Sir, please," my nanny interrupted. "We've all been through enough today. Let the poor girl rest."

But Dad wasn't listening.

"No, Joan. She has to explain why she came home looking like this."

He pointed toward my ruined uniform.

"And why are you covered in red paint?"

Oh, goodness!

I had completely forgotten about the paint.

With everything that had happened, I almost forgot I had been humiliated at school.

I looked down at myself.

My clothes were sticky, my hair was a mess, and my shoes were stained.

I looked at my father again.

All I could see in his eyes was anger, pain, and something that looked like regret.

"I'm sorry, Dad," I whispered.

"Do you have any idea how much danger you put yourself in today?"

I swallowed.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop telling me you're sorry!"

I flinched.

His voice was louder than I had ever heard it.

"Do you know what could have happened to you? Do you understand the kind of man Bryan De Luca is?"

I wanted to remind him that Bryan had been the one holding the gun.

But the words refused to come out.

"Now get out," Dad said coldly.

I stared at him.

"Dad?"

"I don't want to see your face right now. Go to your room."

Tears gathered in my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to—"

"Get out, Carla! And don't come downstairs until I tell you to!"

My heart shattered.

I had already suffered enough humiliation at school.

Then Bryan De Luca came into our home and turned our lives upside down.

And now my father was sending me away as though everything was my fault.

I turned and hurried upstairs before he could see me crying.

The moment I entered my bedroom, I locked the door and collapsed onto my bed.

I buried my face in my pillow and cried uncontrollably.

Why was everyone angry with me?

Why couldn't I do anything right?

All I wanted was to return home and forget about the terrible day I had experienced.

Instead, I had somehow become the wife of the most dangerous mafia boss in New York.

Without even saying yes.

What kind of life was this?

(IN THE PARLOUR)

JOHN'S POV

"You didn't have to pour your anger on her, Boss."

I turned toward Joan, who was sitting on the couch with her injured arm carefully wrapped.

"Excuse me?"

"Carla has suffered enough today. You shouldn't have shouted at her."

I sighed angrily.

"Joan, do you understand what just happened?"

She remained silent.

"That man has claimed my daughter as his doll, Bryan De Luca! Do you know how dangerous that is?"

My voice trembled.

"I have spent twenty years protecting Carla from people like him, and now he knows exactly who she is."

Joan looked at me sadly.

"Then perhaps you should have told her you were expecting a dangerous visitor."

I stared at her.

"Are you blaming me?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but you are partly responsible."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Joan!"

She lowered her head briefly before looking at me again.

"With all due respect, sir, when was the last time you sat down and asked Carla how her day went?"

I frowned.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything, sir."

She took a deep breath.

"You never ask how she's coping at school. You don't know whether she has friends or whether anyone is bullying her."

I opened my mouth, but she continued.

"Have you ever wondered why she spends most of her time alone? Why she doesn't have a boyfriend or a best friend?"

"I provide everything she needs!" I replied defensively.

"She attends one of the best universities. She has beautiful clothes, expensive gifts, and anything money can buy."

Joan shook her head.

"You're wrong, sir."

I stared at her.

"Carla lacks something more important than money."

"And what exactly is that?"

"Attention."

The word struck me harder than I expected.

"She needs her father, sir. She needs someone who will listen to her, comfort her, and make her feel loved."

Joan's voice softened.

"Carla already grew up without a mother. She shouldn't have to feel as though she's growing up without a father too."

I lowered my eyes.

For the first time, I couldn't find anything to say.

"I know you love her," Joan continued. "But sometimes, sir, love needs to be shown, not just provided through money."

I rubbed my forehead.

"I'm sorry, Joan."

She shook her head.

"That apology shouldn't be directed at me, Boss. It belongs to Carla."

I remained silent.

Joan was right.

I had spent years building a future for my daughter while forgetting she needed me in her present.

I remembered how Carla had looked at me when I ordered her upstairs.

The tears in her eyes.

The disappointment on her face.

I had hurt her.

And she had already been hurt enough.

"I'll speak to her tomorrow," I whispered.

Joan nodded.

"Please do, sir."

I leaned back against the couch and closed my eyes.

"Kyle," I murmured.

My late wife.

How I missed her.

"I wish you were here."

Taking care of our daughter without her had never been easy.

Sometimes, I wondered whether I was doing anything right.

Carla had once jokingly suggested that I marry Joan, but I couldn't imagine loving another woman the way I loved Kyle.

Joan was a wonderful woman, but I wouldn't enter a loveless marriage simply because my daughter wanted a mother figure.

I sighed.

"Kyle, our little girl is growing up, and I'm failing her."

Tomorrow, I would make things right.

At least, I hoped I still had the chance.

(IN CARLA'S ROOM)

CARLA'S POV

After crying until my eyes were swollen, I finally dragged myself out of bed and went into the bathroom.

I stared at my reflection.

Goodness gracious!

I looked terrible.

My blonde hair was sticky with dried red paint, and my face looked like someone had used it as a painting board.

"Wonderful, Carla," I muttered. "You survived a psychopath, but you still look like a cartoon villain."

I stepped into the shower and allowed the warm water to wash away the paint.

After what felt like forever, I finally looked like a normal human being again.

I changed into my favorite pink nightdress and sat before my dressing mirror.

That was when I noticed the ring.

The diamond sparkled beautifully on my finger.

I raised my hand and examined it.

I hated to admit it, but the ring was gorgeous.

And strangely enough, it fitted perfectly.

How did Bryan know my finger size?

Had he planned everything before coming to our house?

The thought frightened me.

But another thought made my cheeks warm.

Bryan De Luca was undeniably handsome.

His beautiful green eyes.

His soft blonde hair.

His charming smile.

How could someone so dangerous look so attractive?

I shook my head.

"Carla, stop it!"

He had shot my father and nanny.

He had threatened to kill them.

He had forced a ring onto my finger.

There was nothing romantic about that.

Yet I couldn't deny that his compliments had made me feel beautiful.

For once, someone had looked at me without disgust.

Someone had called me pretty even while I was covered in red paint.

But did that mean he loved me?

Or was I simply another possession he wanted to control?

I stared at my reflection.

"Am I really beautiful enough to capture the devil's attention?"

Maybe it was my hair.

Or my face.

Or perhaps he simply enjoyed frightening innocent girls.

I sighed and climbed into bed.

The room was quiet.

Too quiet.

I stared at the ceiling, wondering how I would survive another day.

Would Bryan return tomorrow?

Would he expect me to call him my husband?

Would he actually kill my father if I removed the ring?

I looked at the diamond again.

"I hate you, Bryan De Luca," I whispered.

But remembering his possessive voice made my cheeks warm.

You are my Doll, Carla Mayday.

I pulled the blanket over myself.

"Stop thinking about him, Carla."

I closed my eyes.

Slowly, exhaustion pulled me into the dream world.

(IN CARLA'S DREAM)

"Are you sleeping, Doll?"

My eyes flew open.

Standing beside my bed was Bryan De Luca.

His beautiful green eyes were fixed on me.

I gasped.

"What are you doing here?"

He smiled.

"I thought you were thinking about me, Doll."

"Get away from me, you psycho!"

I scrambled backwards.

Bryan chuckled and reached toward me.

"Come here, Doll."

"No!"

I pushed him with all my strength and rushed out of the bedroom.

"Dad!" I screamed.

I ran downstairs.

"Nanny!"

But the moment I entered the living room, my entire body froze.

Blood.

There was blood everywhere.

My father lay motionless on the floor.

Beside him was Joan.

Neither of them moved.

"No..."

My knees weakened.

"No, no, no!"

I rushed toward them and collapsed beside my father.

"Daddy, wake up!"

I shook his shoulders desperately.

"Daddy, please!"

He didn't respond.

I turned toward Joan.

"Nanny! Please open your eyes!"

Nothing.

Tears streamed down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry! Please don't leave me!"

I hugged my father's lifeless body.

I was alone.

Completely alone.

And the only person left was the monster who had destroyed my family.

Footsteps sounded behind me.

Then came a familiar voice.

"Doll, do you like my gift?"

I slowly turned.

Bryan stood in the doorway, smiling.

His green eyes shone with terrifying satisfaction.

"No!" I screamed. "Please don't come closer!"

I scrambled to my feet and tried to run.

But before I could escape, a strong arm wrapped around my waist.

Bryan pulled me against his chest.

I struggled desperately.

"LET ME GO!"

He leaned toward my ear.

His breath brushed against my skin.

And in that same deep, possessive voice, he whispered:

"You are mine, Doll."