The relief that washed over me was indescribable.My lungs finally released the breath I’d been holding.I even managed a small smile — not out of joy, but out of pure survival.
Because, for now, I had escaped his wrath..
I nodded slowly, watching him as he reached out and brushed his fingers along my cheek before pulling me into a kiss.His lips pressed against mine — soft but possessive — and when he pulled back, there was that self-satisfied grin stretching across his face, the kind that made my stomach twist.I shut my eyes, welcoming the darkness just to escape it.
Nicola took my hand, but this time his grip was gentler as he guided me toward the next boutique.The drive there had lasted barely ten minutes, yet every second of it dragged like an eternity.The whole way, Nicola talked about what kind of dress he wanted me to wear — the neckline, the color, the fabric, every last detail.It was like he was designing a doll, not marrying a woman.
An hour passed, and now I stood inside a dressing room, wearing the dress he’d chosen.The satin hugged my shoulders as I turned to face the mirror.The tailor behind me tugged at the fabric, tightening it around my waist.My throat closed up.
“You look beautiful, cara,” she murmured.
My eyes met hers in the mirror, tears blurring the reflection.I tried to force a smile, but my lips trembled instead.Beautiful?No.I felt hollow, broken — like the reflection staring back at me wasn’t even mine.
Nicola didn’t deserve this — didn’t deserve me, didn’t deserve the privilege of choosing my dress, my life, my future.The gown was exquisite, yes — lace and silk and tragedy stitched together — but I hated it.I hated it because he chose it.
“Beautiful?”I repeated bitterly.“Beautiful...”
“Sì, il tuo fidanzato è un uomo fortunato,” she said with a warm smile, continuing to adjust the fabric.
Her words broke me.My chest ached as I thought of the man I wanted to call lucky — Alessandro.If anyone was meant to see me in a white dress, it was him.Not Nicola.Never Nicola.And to make it worse, I was carrying Nicola’s child.
The tears came harder, until I couldn’t see anything through the blur.The tailor’s voice turned faint as she rushed to steady me, guiding me off the platform to a seat.I tried to catch my breath, to stop shaking, but when I looked up again, the woman was gone.In her place stood Nicola.
I flinched.My entire body went rigid.
“Ariana,” his voice snapped through the silence, stern and sharp.“What happened?Do you not like the dress?”He knelt down in front of me, resting his hands on my knees as though he cared.
The irony stung.He thought I was crying over a dress.How could he not see the real reason?He didn’t understand — he never would.I shook my head helplessly, the sobs breaking loose again.Nicola’s expression darkened, frustration bubbling beneath his skin.
He grabbed my knee roughly, dragging me closer.“Stop this fucking nonsense and talk to me.Why are you crying?”he growled.
“N-Nicola,” I stammered, trying to steady my voice.“There’s something I need...to tell you.”
He nodded, waiting.My throat constricted as I forced the words out.“I-I’m having—”
“Ser, my dolzhny uyti!Seychas!”
The door burst open.One of Nicola’s men shouted something in Russian, his voice tense, urgent.Nicola shot up immediately, dismissing me without a word.My heart sank.He didn’t even hear me.
Within seconds, chaos swallowed the room.Nicola stormed back in with the tailor from before — her face pale, her hands trembling.
“Get her out of that dress!Hurry!”he barked.
The woman rushed to obey, fumbling with the fabric as she unfastened the gown.Before I could even gather my thoughts, Nicola grabbed my hand and yanked me toward the door.We ran.
Outside, he shoved me into the car, the door slamming shut behind me.My back hit the seat hard.“Nicola, what’s happening?”I cried out.
He turned, eyes cold but steady.“Don’t worry about anything, Ariana.You’re safe with me.”
For the first time in a long time, I almost believed him.Maybe it was the look in his eyes — desperate, protective, unhinged.He wasn’t lying when he said he’d keep me safe.Because if he didn’t...he’d lose me.And I think that terrified him more than anything.
The car sped away, tires screeching.I turned to the window just in time to see smoke rising behind us — thick, black clouds swallowing the boutique we had just left.My heart sank.The shop was gone.Completely destroyed.
What the hell just happened?
As the city blurred past us, I pressed a hand to my stomach.The secret burned inside me like fire.I couldn’t tell him — not now.If I did, there would be no baby.
The thought of my child growing up around Nicola and D’Angelo sent a chill through me.That wasn’t a life — that was a prison waiting to happen.I shut my eyes tight, imagining a different future — one where I took my mother’s advice and escaped.
