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1313 Words
I couldn’t breathe.
My body was still pressed against the dresser, my lips trembling, my hands balled into fists at my sides. My father stood in the doorway like a monolith, backlit by the soft orange glow of the corridor, his features carved in stone. I didn’t dare glance toward the dresser drawers. I hoped to God he couldn’t hear the frantic beating of Fiorella’s heart—or mine.
“I heard voices,” he said, stepping inside, his gaze sweeping over the room. “You were talking to yourself?”
I nodded quickly, forcing a weak smile. “Just nerves. Talking myself down.”
He took another step forward, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been crying.”
It wasn’t a question.
I stayed silent, lips pressed together. The salty trail of a tear still clung stubbornly to my cheek, a smudge of mascara betraying me.
He sighed. The kind of sigh that came not from disappointment, but from weariness. “Come,” he said gently, reaching into the pocket of his tailored coat and pulling out a handkerchief. He approached, his movements slow, unsure—as if he feared I might shatter if he got too close. “Look at me.”
I did.
With a tenderness I hadn’t seen since I was a little girl, he reached out and dabbed the handkerchief beneath my eyes. His hands were rough, the skin slightly calloused from years of vineyard work before the suits and boardrooms. The scent of wine and cologne lingered on him.
“Your mascara,” he murmured. “Always hated seeing you cry.”
“I’m just nervous,” I managed.
“I know.” He nodded solemnly. “But you’re doing something extraordinary, Liora. Something no one your age should have to do. And I... I owe you more than I can ever repay.”
I blinked at him, confused. My father rarely spoke with such raw honesty. He was a man of measured words, cold negotiations, iron handshakes.
He exhaled and looked past me, eyes glazed with memory. “When I got into business with Matteo Arcuri, I was ambitious. I wanted to take our wines beyond Italy. Beyond Europe. He helped me get there, but the cost—” He paused. “The cost was steep. I didn’t see it until it was too late. Debts don’t always come in coin.”
My breath caught.
“He was going to crush me,” he said. “Ruin everything I’d built. You know how this world works. A scandal like that... it wouldn’t just break the business. It would end us.” He met my eyes again. “But he offered me a way out. A future. And that future was you.”
It felt like ice was filling my lungs.
“I would’ve taken the fall,” he added softly. “I would’ve gone down with the ship. But you... you stepped forward. You said yes.”
I hadn't said yes. I hadn’t even whispered it. But I remembered standing in that cold room with him and Matteo, and the silence that followed when I didn’t say no.
“You’re giving me my life back,” he said. “And I swear to you, Matteo will treat you well. He’s a man of power, yes, but also... of respect. You’ll have wealth, safety, influence. Everything a woman could want.”
But not everything I wanted.
He brushed a thumb across my cheek. “You’ve always been strong, Liora. So much stronger than your mother ever was. She... she wouldn’t have survived this world.”
My stomach turned at the comparison.
“I just wanted to tell you how proud I am,” he finished, stepping back toward the door. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, everything begins.”
He lingered for a heartbeat longer. Then he was gone.
The door clicked softly shut behind him, and I collapsed back against the dresser, my knees giving out.
Fiorella burst from the shadows like a flame catching wind.
“You didn’t tell me,” she hissed.
“Fiorella—”
“You didn’t tell me your marriage was a debt payment, Liora!”
I flinched. “Please—keep your voice down. If one of the guards—”
“Oh, now you care about them hearing?” she snapped. “You let me think this was just a cold, arranged thing. Status. Politics. Not that your father sold you off like a prized bottle of wine!”
I swallowed hard. “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t want you to look at me differently.”
Her nostrils flared. “Differently? Liora, I don’t care why he wants to marry you. I care that you didn’t trust me with the truth.”
“I was ashamed,” I said quietly.
She stopped pacing, staring at me.
“I’ve spent my whole life being told what to be,” I whispered. “Polished. Perfect. Silent. And when this happened, I didn’t fight. I froze. And then you showed up again, and it all just... got harder. You make everything louder.”
“You mean clearer.”
I looked at her, really looked at her—her black jacket still dusted with flour from the bakery, her leather boots scuffed and worn. The vanilla scent clung to her skin like memory. She was chaos. She was comfort. She was everything I wasn’t allowed to want.
“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d want to fix it,” I said. “And I didn’t think I could be fixed.”
Fiorella shook her head, visibly shaken. “You’re not broken, Liora. You’re cornered. And I would’ve stood in that corner with you. I will stand with you.”
Silence settled between us again, heavy with things unsaid.
Then, finally, I spoke.
“Let’s run.”
She stared. “What?”
I took a step closer. “You were right. About everything. I can’t marry him. I can’t spend the rest of my life pretending. I don’t want to wake up ten years from now and wonder who I might’ve been if I’d just been brave.”
“Are you saying—?”
“I want to leave. With you. Tomorrow morning. Before the staff wake up. Before the security shifts change. There’s a gap in the patrol around five. I’ve watched them. We’ll take the back service road and head toward the docks.”
Fiorella’s jaw dropped slightly. “You’ve been planning this?”
“No,” I said honestly. “But I’ve been dreaming of it.”
She let out a short laugh, full of disbelief. “You really mean it.”
“I do.”
Her face softened, and she stepped toward me. “You’ll need a bag.”
“I’ll pack light. Just the essentials.”
“Cash?”
“There’s a safe behind the mirror. I know the code.”
“We’ll need clothes. Not silk robes and diamond earrings.”
“I have a pair of jeans I hid under the bed. And sneakers.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Sneakers. Now I am impressed.”
I smiled faintly. “You bring the getaway flour.”
She laughed for real this time, her eyes shining. Then she reached for my hand and held it like she never wanted to let go.
“I was going to lose you,” she said quietly. “I thought I already had.”
“You never did.”
She pulled me into a hug, and I pressed my cheek to her shoulder, inhaling her warmth, her scent. In that moment, everything outside the room disappeared. The wedding, the pressure, the debt—all of it dissolved under the weight of this quiet, reckless promise.
“We leave at dawn,” I whispered.
She nodded against my hair. “At dawn"
- Writer
