“Mrs. Vitale?” Elena’s familiar voice echoed, and I sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s time for dinner. Mr. Vitale is waiting.”
My stomach twisted.
I wet my lips, staring at the locked door like I could keep reality out for just a little longer. I had lost track of time, lost myself in my grief, my panic, my anger. Now, reality was here to collect me.
I swallowed hard. “What time is it?”
A pause. “It’s past eight.”
Shit. I pushed myself up too fast; my legs trembled beneath me. Had I really been here for hours? How did I let time slip away like that?
Before I could think or speak, the door handle rattled. “I’m coming in.”
I barely had time to back away before the door opened, and Elena stepped in. Her black hair was pinned into a sleek bun as her sharp eyes assessed me.
She was holding something draped over her arm. A dress.
“Put this on,” she said, stepping inside.
I didn’t take it. My body refused to move.
She sighed, unimpressed. “You don’t want to keep him waiting.”
A fresh wave of nausea crashed over me.
“I…” My voice cracked.
She looked me up and down and handed the dress to me. It was… breathtaking. Deep crimson, the kind that belonged to candlelit sins and whispered confessions. It had a plunging neckline that would expose more of my chest than I was comfortable with, the delicate straps thin enough to snap under pressure. The silk clung in all the right places, dipping low in the back, the hem flowing in a way that made it both elegant and dangerously seductive.
Yet, I felt sick.
My grip on the fabric tightened. “Why… why is he doing this?”
Elena tilted her head. ‘Because that’s what he wants.”
My stomach clenched.
“You…” My breath hitched. “You know what he’s doing, don’t you? You know he’s forcing me into this.”
Something flickered in her eyes. “Yes.”
I stared at her. “And you’re okay with that?”
Elena exhaled through her nose. “Okay with it?” She let out a humourless laugh. “Tell me when this world started caring about your consent?”
I flinched.
“Do you think power cares?” She was right. “Do you think men like him lose sleep over morality? Over right and wrong?”
I was speechless. “That’s not-”
She cut me off. “You’re looking for justice in a place where justice does not exist.”
The words hit like a slap.
“You think you have a choice? No, Celestine. He is your choice. You can fight it. You can scream and cry and resist all you want, but in the end, you will still be his because that’s what happens when men like him decide to claim something. And you? You were claimed earlier than you realised.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
