Chapter 4

Selena POV

I didn't sleep that night.

Instead, I sat by my narrow dorm window, watching the campus slowly come alive as dawn crept across the sky. Students stumbled out of buildings, clutching coffee cups and textbooks, heading to classes where their biggest worry was midterm exams. Normal problems. Normal lives.

Everything I'd thought I wanted and would never have again.

The photo lay on my desk beside my laptop, the faces staring up at me like ghosts. My mother looked so young in that white dress, so happy. Her smile was radiant, the kind that came from believing in forever. The man beside her my father had his arm wrapped around her waist possessively, like he owned her. Like she was his prize.

Welcome home.

The words haunted me. Home. As if I'd ever belonged in that world of violence and power. As if the cramped apartment in Queens where I'd grown up, where my mother counted every penny and worked herself to exhaustion, wasn't my real home.

My phone buzzed with a text from Marcus: Mom called me crying last night. What's going on? Are you okay?

I stared at the message, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. How could I explain this to my seventeen-year-old brother? That our entire life had been built on a lie? That the father we'd mourned had actually been alive all these years, running a criminal empire while we struggled to pay rent?

Everything's fine, I texted back. Just some family stuff. I'll call you later.

It was another lie added to the mountain of lies that seemed to define my existence. But what else could I do? Marcus was so close to graduating, so close to getting that scholarship to St. Andrews Prep. He wanted to be a lawyer, to help people. I couldn't destroy his future by dragging him into this nightmare.

My laptop chimed with an email notification. Professor Chen, reminding me about my marketing presentation this afternoon. For a moment, I almost laughed. Marketing strategies and consumer behavior seemed absurdly trivial compared to mafia kings and blood debts and fathers who might or might not want me dead.

But I opened my presentation anyway, staring at slides about target demographics and brand positioning. This was my life or it had been, until yesterday. College, internships, the dream of graduating and finding a job that would finally lift my family out of poverty. Simple dreams. Achievable dreams.

Dreams that Caspian Santoro could destroy with a single phone call.

I thought about the casual way he'd mentioned my mother's workplace, Marcus's soccer practice, our financial struggles. The envelope full of medical bills that he'd slid across the white tablecloth like he was discussing the weather. These people whatever they were, whoever they worked for had been watching us. Cataloging our vulnerabilities. Waiting for the right moment to strike.

Why now? That was the question that kept circling through my mind. If my father had been alive all these years, if he'd known where we were, why hadn't he made contact before? What had changed?

My phone rang, making me jump. Jessica's name flashed on the screen.

"Hey," I answered, trying to sound normal.

"Selene, thank God. I've been worried sick." Jessica's voice was tight with concern. "What's going on?"

I closed my eyes, wishing I could tell her everything. Jessica was my closest friend, the only person at school who knew about my family's financial struggles. She'd covered for me when I had to miss classes for my part-time jobs, helped me study when I was too tired to think straight. She deserved the truth.

But the truth would put her in danger too.

"I'm fine," I said, the lie bitter on my tongue. "Just some family drama. You know how it is."

"No, I don't know how it is," Jessica said firmly. "Because you're lying to me. You've been acting strange ever since" She paused. "This is about Dario, isn't it? About what happened between you two?"

If only it were that simple. If only my biggest problem was a cheating boyfriend and a broken heart.

"It's complicated," I said finally.

"Then uncomplicate it. Talk to me, Selene. Whatever is going on, we can figure it out together."

The kindness in her voice almost broke me. "I can't. Not yet. But I promise, as soon as I can, I'll tell you everything."

Jessica was quiet for a long moment. "Are you in some kind of trouble? Because if you are, if someone's threatening you"

"I have to go," I said quickly, before she could finish that thought. "I'll call you later, okay?"

I hung up before she could respond, hating myself for shutting her out. But what choice did I have? The people who had taken me yesterday weren't playing games. They'd made that clear with their knowledge of my family, their casual threats, their obvious resources.

Vincent Torrino. The name was burned into my memory, along with his cold smile and expensive suit. He'd moved through that coffee shop like he owned it, like the whole world was his personal hunting ground. And behind him, pulling the strings, was Caspian Santoro.

Dario's father. The man who wanted me to marry his son.

I thought about Dario, about the way he'd looked when I'd walked in on him with that other man. Guilty, yes. Ashamed. But also relieved, like he'd been waiting for someone to finally see the truth he'd been hiding.

Was this why? Had he been living a lie too, pretending to be someone he wasn't because his father demanded it? The thought made my chest ache with something that wasn't quite forgiveness but wasn't anger either. If Caspian could threaten my family to get what he wanted, what had he done to his own son?

I picked up the photo again, studying the faces. Everyone looked so formal, so posed. Like they were playing roles in a movie about the perfect family. But there was something in their eyes a hardness that didn't match their smiles. A coldness that spoke of secrets and violence and power bought with blood.

Was this really where I came from? Were these people really my family?

My laptop chimed with another email. This one from an address I didn't recognize: [e-mail]

My heart started racing before I even opened it.

Miss Marcellus,

I trust you've had time to consider our conversation yesterday. As discussed, your decision is required by this evening. I've taken the liberty of clearing your afternoon schedule Professor Chen has been informed that you're dealing with a family emergency.

A car will collect you at 6 PM from your dormitory. Please be ready.

Regards,

Caspian Santoro

I stared at the message, my hands shaking. He'd contacted my professor. He'd interfered with my classes, my schedule, my life. The casual violation of it made my skin crawl.

How much control did this man have? How far did his reach extend?

I thought about my mother's words from last night: We can still run. We can disappear so completely that even your father can't find us.

But could we? If Caspian could reach my professors, if he knew about Marcus's soccer practice and my mother's work schedule, if he had photos of my christening from twenty-three years ago, then running seemed impossible. We were mice in a maze, and he was the scientist watching from above.

My phone buzzed with a text from my mother: Mija, I called in sick to work. I'm coming to get you. We're leaving today.

No, I texted back immediately. If you don't show up to work, they'll notice. They're watching us, Mom. We have to act normal.

Normal? came her reply. How can anything be normal now?

She was right. Nothing would ever be normal again. The life I'd been living college, part-time jobs, dreams of graduating and finding my place in the world that life was over. Whether I married Dario or ran away with my mother or tried to find some third option I hadn't thought of yet, everything had changed.

But maybe that wasn't entirely bad.

I thought about the envelope of medical bills, about the way my mother's face had looked when she'd talked about working double shifts just to keep us afloat. About Marcus's scholarship application and the desperate hope in his voice when he'd talked about St. Andrews Prep. About all the nights I'd lain awake wondering how we'd pay for groceries, how we'd cover the rent, how we'd survive another month.

Caspian had offered to make all of that go away. One marriage fake, loveless, but legal and my family would be secure. My mother could get the medical treatment she needed. Marcus could have the education he deserved. I could stop worrying about money and focus on... what?

Being a mafia wife. Playing a role in a world I didn't understand, married to a man who could barely stand to touch me. Living in a cage, no matter how gilded it might be.

But my family would be safe. Protected. Free from the financial pressures that had defined our entire lives.

Was that worth my freedom? Was their security worth my sacrifice?

I closed my laptop and stood up, pacing the small space of my dorm room. Outside, I could hear students laughing, talking about weekend plans and upcoming parties. Normal college problems. Normal college life.

Everything I was about to lose.

But maybe I'd never really had it to begin with. Maybe I'd been living on borrowed time, borrowed identity, borrowed safety. Maybe it was time to stop running from who I really was and face the truth.

I was Selene Marcellus. Daughter of a man I'd never known but whose blood ran through my veins. Heir to a legacy I didn't understand but couldn't escape.

And in six hours, I would have to decide what that meant.

I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found the number I was looking for. Dario. We hadn't spoken since that night in his apartment, since I'd walked out on the ruins of our relationship. But he was part of this now, whether he wanted to be or not.

The phone rang once, twice, three times. Just as I was about to hang up, he answered.

"Selene?" His voice was cautious, surprised. "I... I wasn't expecting you to call."

"We need to talk," I said. "About your father. About what he wants from us."

Silence stretched across the line. Then: "You met him."

"Yesterday. He made me an offer."

"The marriage." Dario's voice was flat, defeated. "He told you about the arrangement."

"Is that what this is? An arrangement?"

"It's what it's always been." He sounded tired, older than his twenty-four years. "Everything in my father's world is an arrangement, Selene. Even love."

"Then help me understand. Help me figure out what I'm really choosing between."

Another pause. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "Meet me tonight. After you see him. Whatever you decide, whatever happens, we should talk first. As friends, if nothing else."

Friends. The word felt strange after everything that had happened between us, but maybe it was what we'd always been meant to be.

"Okay," I said. "I'll call you after."

"Selene?" His voice caught. "I'm sorry. For everything. For the lies, for what my father's put you through. You deserve better than this."

"We all do," I said, and hung up.

The hours crawled by with agonizing slowness. I went through the motions of my day shower, breakfast, pretending to study but my mind was elsewhere. On the choice I had to make. On the life I was about to leave behind.

At 5:30, I stood in front of my closet, staring at clothes that suddenly felt like costumes. What did one wear to sell their soul to the devil? What was the appropriate outfit for trading freedom for family safety?

I settled on a simple black dress and flats. Professional but not fancy. Respectful but not submissive.

At exactly 6 PM, my phone buzzed with a text: The car is here.

I looked around my dorm room one last time, taking in the cramped space that had been my sanctuary for three years. The textbooks, the photos of my family, the dreams I'd pinned to the bulletin board above my desk.

Then I picked up my purse and walked toward whatever came next.