Four

10:15 AM the next day

Forty Five minutes until the meeting and I was yet to dress up. I was forced to bath but I needed more time to regain control of myself before I put on that dress.

It's my favorite color, a shiny blue silk slip ankle length dress with cowl neck.

But it didn't stop the helpless feeling.

10:22

I finally pulled myself together and slipped into the dress. It only took a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. I applied just enough makeup to cover the dark circles under my eyes, not wanting to look as tired as I felt. Then, I grabbed my bag.

As I headed downstairs, I couldn't stop the silent prayer running through my mind. Even though I knew just how wrong it was, but is it bad that I wanted Luca Caruso to find out about the switch and back out. But at the same time, a part of me wished he wouldn’t. My mother’s life hung in the balance, and I knew my father wouldn't hesitate to cut off her life support if this marriage didn’t happen. He had made that clear. Pretty clear.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, my father was waiting. He glanced at me, checking his watch before eyeing me up and down. "Why did you take so long?" he asked, but before I could answer, he smirked and added, "Trying to look good for your future husband, I suppose."

The wave of disgust hit me, but I swallowed it down. I said nothing, just stood there as he looked me over, assessing me like I was something he owned. 

Once he was done, he nodded, satisfied. "The driver will take you. I won’t have you running off like your sister, though I doubt you would."

I nodded, forcing the words out. "Yes, Father."

Without another word, I walked outside to the waiting car. The driver opened the door for me, the car spotless, unnervingly polished—just like the life I was being forced into. I got in, knowing there was no turning back.

   As soon as the car pulled out of the driveway and the gates creaked shut behind us, I felt the pain in my chest tighten even further. My hand immediately found my phone, fingers trembling slightly as I scrolled through recent calls. There it was—the number from St. Francis Hospital. Yesterday’s call echoed in my head, the cold, matter-of-fact tone of the hospital administrator who had reminded me that time was running out.

I glanced toward the driver. He kept his eyes on the road, silent, not giving me a second thought. They all didn't. I took a deep breath and pressed the call button, bringing the phone up to my ear. The ringing felt like it lasted forever.

"St. Francis Hospital, how may I assist you?"

"Hi, this is Valentina De Luca," I said, my voice low. Afraid they might drop a bad news before I tell them the reason I called. Horrible feeling. "I spoke with someone yesterday about my mother’s treatment. Is there any way you can connect me to the person handling her case?"

There was a brief pause on the other end. "Yes, Ms. De Luca. I remember your call. Have you had a chance to discuss the payment situation with your father?"

I pressed my lips together, staring out of the car window as we drove farther away from home. "Yes," I lied smoothly. "He’s available now. I need you to call him right away. He’s ready to handle the financial discussions."

There was a slight hesitation, as if the receptionist wasn’t sure whether to believe me, but then she said, "I understand. I'll notify the financial department immediately and make sure they contact your father now. Is there anything else you need?"

I gripped the phone tighter, feeling my heart race. "No, just make sure you call him now. He's expecting it, and I need this settled as soon as possible."

"I understand, Ms. De Luca. We’ll take care of it. Thank you for calling."

I ended the call, my thumb lingering over the screen for a second longer than necessary. A slow, uneasy breath left me as I lowered the phone onto my lap, staring out at the passing streets that blurred into one another. The hospital would call him. They had to. I’d done all I could to push this along—now, the rest was out of my hands.

But what if he refused? What if, after all this, he decided to pull the plug, to punish me for whatever twisted reasons fueled his cruelty? The thought of it made me feel sick, my stomach churning at the idea that my mother’s life was hanging in the balance of my father’s whims. 

I let out a slow shaky breath, feeling the helplessness wash over me. At least for the moment, I had done what I could. 

We made a deal. He better keep his own end of it.

The car suddenly slowed. Traffic. I thanked the heavens for it, my shoulders sagging with relief. If we got stuck long enough, we might even be late to the meeting.

Part of me knew I shouldn’t feel that way. I should’ve been worried about the consequences, about the look on my father’s face if we arrived late and Mr Luca Caruso angrily calls him. But I couldn’t help it—the delay was a pause in the nightmare that awaited me.

I sat back in my seat, exhaling softly, allowing myself to enjoy the moment of reprieve. But then, I felt the car shift. The driver, without a word, swerved and took a sharp turn onto a different road. My heart sank.

I didn’t need to ask. I knew this was no random detour. He must've gotten orders from my father, probably before we even left the house. There would be no escaping this, no extra time to stall. Of course, my father had planned for this. He always did.

I let out a quiet sigh and stared out at the unfamiliar streets we followed. The relief that had briefly settled in my chest faded away. I didn’t say anything. There was no point. The driver was just doing his job, just like everyone else under my father’s thumb.

I clasped my hands in my lap and turned my gaze back to the road ahead. The meeting would happen, on time. There was no avoiding it. I know.