CHAPTER 5- The Second Marriage

YULIA'S POV

"You know, I've never actually liked you."

My heart sank as I stared up at Bella.

"To think you tried to steal from me?" she scoffed.

I shook my head repeatedly, rubbing my palms together as I knelt on the floor.

"Bella, please. I didn't do it."

"Then who did?"

My mind raced.

"I—I don't know, but I saw your boyfriend go into your room and run out—"

Before I could finish, her palm collided with my cheek. The sharp sting spread across my face.

"How dare you?"

I held my cheek, tears gathering in my eyes.

"I was telling the truth..."

She glared down at me. But no one believed me.

No one ever did.

*****************************

"We've arrived."

I slowly opened my eyes. For a moment, I forgot where I was. Then I remembered.

Armani immediately ended his phone call and slipped his phone into his pocket before looking at me.

"You've been quiet for a while."

I simply glared at him. My eyes still burned from crying earlier, and I quickly looked away when I felt them beginning to sting again. He cleared his throat.

"Let's go. I don't want to keep them waiting any longer."

The car came to a stop. The door slid open, and the familiar hand appeared again. I ignored it. Instead, I placed one foot outside the car and looked up. And for the first time since I had been brought into Armani's world, I forgot to be angry. The building stood before me like a palace disguised as a modern mansion.

It was enormous.

Tall black-framed windows stretched across the front of the building, reflecting the pale afternoon sky. Massive stone pillars supported the entrance, their surfaces smooth and spotless. Dark ivy climbed parts of the outer walls, weaving around the architecture in a way that somehow made the place feel older than it looked. A wide staircase led to the enormous entrance doors. They were made of dark wood with intricate gold detailing carved into the surface. Even from where I stood, I could see the faint glow of chandeliers through the glass above the entrance. The entire estate was surrounded by perfectly trimmed hedges and carefully arranged gardens. White flowers lined the stone walkway, while tall trees stood on either side like silent guards. Everything was immaculate.

Expensive.

Almost intimidatingly perfect.

I had never seen a house like this in my entire life. It didn't look like somewhere people simply lived. It looked like somewhere people came to belong. I slowly stepped out of the car. Armani came to stand beside me. For a moment, I forgot he was the reason I was standing there in the first place. Then I remembered. My stomach tightened. A group of men and women dressed in elegant suits approached us and bowed their heads slightly.

"Sir."

"They're all waiting inside," Armani said. He nodded toward the entrance before extending his hand toward me. I scoffed. I wasn't holding his hand. Instead, I walked past him and followed the suited men. He didn't stop me. I could feel his eyes on my back, but I refused to look around. The massive doors opened.

I stepped inside and stopped. The hall was even more breathtaking than the exterior.

A huge crystal chandelier hung from the center of the high ceiling, scattering soft golden light across the room. Dark wood paneling covered portions of the walls, contrasting beautifully with the deep emerald-green curtains that framed the enormous windows. The floor was polished black marble, reflecting the lights above us.

Long, elegant couches and armchairs were arranged around the room, all in deep shades of black, burgundy, and emerald.

Everything about the room screamed wealth. But there was something else. Something colder. The decorations were beautiful, but the atmosphere felt strangely heavy, like the room had witnessed too many secrets. Men and women dressed in expensive suits and gowns sat around the hall, their conversations dying one by one as I entered. Every pair of eyes turned toward me.

Examining me.

Judging me.

I suddenly became very aware of myself.

My dress.

My hair.

My hands.

I swallowed. Why were they looking at me like that?

The room fell almost completely silent. Then Armani walked in behind me. Everyone stood. The elderly man I recognized from the wedding stepped forward. His silver-streaked hair was neatly combed back, and his sharp eyes immediately settled on Armani. He placed a hand on Armani's shoulder.

There was something familiar in the gesture.

Authority.

Armani turned toward me.

"This is my wife..."

He paused briefly.

"Serena Blackwood."

My jaw tightened.

"I am not Serena."

The words came out louder than I intended. Every conversation stopped. Every face turned toward me. For a second, nobody moved. Then whispers began spreading across the room.

"What did she say?"

"She said she's not Serena."

"Does Armani think this is a game?"

I kept my head held high despite the heat crawling up my neck. I refused to let them see me afraid. Armani turned toward me. He walked closer without saying a word. Then he leaned down until his mouth was close to my ear.

"Speak again without being spoken to, and these people will not hesitate to show you the consequences."

A chill ran down my spine. Something about his voice was different.

Low.

Controlled.

Certain.

I glanced around the room. The warmth I'd felt from the sunlight outside seemed completely gone. The hall suddenly felt colder. I swallowed hard. Armani straightened and turned back toward the family.

"Pardon her manners. She's still new to the rules."

Everyone slowly returned to their seats. Armani and I remained standing in the center of the hall. I glanced around.

So many people.

So many cold faces.

I felt like an insect under a microscope. Then one of them spoke.

"Does she know the reason she was married into this family?"

My eyes immediately shifted toward Armani. I wanted to know the answer too. But before he could say anything, I spoke.

"I am not the woman you're looking for."

Several heads turned toward me. My heart began pounding. But I continued.

"I am not Serena Blackwood. You have me mistaken for someone else."

Silence.

Heavy, uncomfortable silence.

"Stop talking," Armani said sharply.

I turned toward him. Something inside me snapped.

"No."

His eyes narrowed.

"No, actually, as a matter of fact, I will keep talking."

I gestured around the room.

"Y'all don't like silence, right? Isn't that what you told me?"

His expression darkened. Before I could say anything else, Armani grabbed my wrists. He pulled me out of the hall. I struggled against his grip until we reached the corridor. The moment we were outside, I snatched my hands away.

"What is this?"

A woman's voice interrupted us. I turned sharply. A sleek black car had just stopped outside the entrance. The door opened. A woman stepped out. She wore an elegant red dress that hugged her figure perfectly, paired with black heels and dark sunglasses. She removed the tinted glasses slowly. Her eyes immediately landed on me. Then they shifted to Armani.

Her expression changed.

"So it's true?"

She looked between us.

"You got married again?"

My brows furrowed.

Again?

My stomach dropped.

**What did she just say?**