Chapter 4

Roksana's POV

The second their hands let go of my arms, my knees gave out completely.

I tried to force myself to stay upright, but the brutal, white-hot pressure in my back made my legs useless.

I crumpled, catching myself on a table with a sharp hiss of pain that tore straight from my throat.

Blinking back the thick haze of tears, I forced my gaze up toward the man sitting on the far side of the room.

He was scrolling effortlessly through a sleek tablet, completely detached from the wreckage of my life. Up close, he looked younger than he did in the grainy press photographs, a sharp jawline, dark hair falling neatly over his forehead, and an air of terrifying, absolute composure.

I swallowed hard, sucking in a ragged, defiant breath. "I’m not marrying you!" I spat, my voice shaking from the sheer agony radiating through my spine.

His hand paused. He lowered the tablet.

His dark gaze drifted up, locking onto mine and pinning me in place. The weight of his eyes, calculating, dead, and entirely devoid of human warmth, slowly roamed from the crown of my messy, tangled hair all the way down to my dirt-stained, ruined wedding dress.

It felt like a physical blow. It made me feel utterly worthless, that I wished the floor would just split open and swallow me whole.

He didn't look angry. He didn't look surprised. He looked profoundly, insultingly bored.

"Her?" he asked, shifting his cold eyes toward my parents.

Mom and Dad didn't even blink. Not a flicker of hesitation. Not a single second of residual guilt crossed their faces.

"Yes," Mom replied easily, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather.

“So our payment?” Dad cleared his throat, shifting his weight.

Our payment?

My breath hitched. My eyes widened into saucer plates as I stared at the two people I had spent my entire life calling parents.

They were about to sell me?

The brutal, crushing realization slammed into my chest harder than the fall from the window. They didn't just hand me over as a spare part; they are actually bartering me away like livestock?

Before I could choke out a desperate breath, a heavy leather briefcase landed on the table with a dull, sickening thud.

Mom’s hand darted out instantly, unzipping it with unseemly, ravenous haste. Crisp stacks of cash and financial codes flashed under the lights.

They had put an actual price tag on my life.

"She’s yours, De-Luca," Dad remarked, his voice steady, hollow, and entirely devoid of a soul. "All yours."

“Dad!” I choked out, tears finally breaking free, spilling hot and fast down my cheeks.

Was this the plan all along? Was Allison supposed to be the sacrifice, and when things shifted, they threw me to the wolves instead?

They would never, ever have sold Allison off like this. Never. But me? I was just garbage they could discard for the right price?

“Be good,” Dad muttered. He stood up, turned his back on me, and walked straight out of the room.

I watched Mom stand up too, a pathetic, desperate fraction of me still hoping, praying, she’d turn around.

Hoping she’d explain what was happening. Hoping she’d look at me and say it was all a terrible mistake, that I was going to be fine.

She didn't say a single word. She just walked right past me as if I were a piece of furniture blocking her exit.

My legs finally gave out completely. I slid down, crouching hard against the cold floor as the tears exploded from my eyes, hot and blinding.

A deep, heavy ache throbbed relentlessly in my lower back, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the hollow cavern opening up inside my chest.

This wasn’t a marriage. This was a trafficking transaction wrapped in white silk and expensive lies.

I didn't notice Santiago De-Luca stand up. The first warning I had was his large, suffocating shadow falling over me.

He crouched down to my level, his heavy fingers wrapping firmly around my jaw, forcing my face upward until my tear-soaked eyes were locked directly into his terrifying gaze.

The raw, reality of it shattered whatever was left of my sanity. With a sob of pure disgust, I shoved his hand off my face, scrambling backward.

He stood up slowly, completely unbothered. A towering guard immediately lunged forward, grabbed my arms, hauled me up rough, and dragged me out of the room, shoving me into the back of a waiting car.

*

The luxury vehicle pulled to a creeping, agonizing halt inside a towering, isolated estate.

I remained slumped against the plush leather seat, entirely motionless except for my shoulders, which shook violently as warm, silent tears slipped endlessly down my face.

I hadn't just been a substitute. I was collateral. I was inventory. And the most terrifying part was the absolute finality of it. There was no escape.

I couldn't run to the police; my own flesh and blood had signed the paperwork, legally stamping my existence over to a stranger.

I can’t ask for a divorce, not from a man who commanded the dark underbelly of the city. In the eyes of the law, and in the eyes of the underworld, I was his wife.

More clearer, I was his property.

The realization stung worse than the blooming bruises tearing across my back. It felt like someone had reached directly into my ribcage with bare, bloody hands and was slowly, ripping my heart apart.

Every ragged breath felt like swallowing crushed glass. The sharp, burning needles of betrayal pierced my lungs over and over again, choking me from the inside out.

My own parents. 

The people whose entire job was supposed to be keeping me safe had gift-wrapped me in a ruined wedding dress and delivered me straight to a monster.

Had it always been the plan? Had they planned to trick Santiago with Allison first, only to pull a sick bait-and-switch when things got too complicated?

It made a brutal, nauseating kind of sense. And it made me hate them with a fire so hot it threatened to burn me to ash.

With a trembling, dirt-stained hand, I wiped the wetness from my cheeks, letting out a soft, shuddering groan as a fresh wave of numbness and throbbing agony radiated from my lower back against the seat.

I slowly turned my face toward the darkened window, staring out at the imposing stone mansion looming ahead of us under the heavy, suffocating grey sky, realizing with absolute, bone-deep terror that…

My life was officially, over.