Chapter 9: Doubts and determination
1193 Words
Later that night, she caught Alex alone in the hallway outside his study.
“Did you know Bianca would be there?” Elsa’s voice was quiet, but steady.
He turned, surprised. “Yes.”
“And you didn’t think to warn me?”
His jaw tightened, but his gaze didn’t waver. “Would it have made a difference?”
She stepped closer. “It would’ve prepared me. She made me feel small, Alex. Like I didn’t belong.”
“You didn’t look small to me,” he said, his voice low. “You looked like someone who knew how to bite back.”
Elsa blinked. “You were watching?”
“Always.”
Elsa looked away, her arms folding across her chest. “I’m not asking for explanations. Just… don’t keep me in the dark next time.”
Alex held her gaze. “Noted.”
A beat passed. He didn’t reach for her. Didn’t try to soften the moment.
Elsa gave a small nod, more to herself than to him. “I should go.”
He didn’t stop her. Just said, “Let the driver take you.”
“I’ll manage.”
She turned, her heels clicking softly on the marble floor as she walked away.
Alex stood there, unmoving, the hallway falling quiet again.
And that was how the night ended, not with warmth, but with something colder.
In her room…
Elsa changed into her robe and let out a long, quiet breath, like she’d been holding it in all evening.
She tried to lose herself in a book.
She read the same paragraph five times before snapping it shut.
Her mind kept drifting to Bianca’s words, Alex’s silence, the weight of unspoken things.
She tossed the book aside and pushed to her feet with a sigh.
In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face. It helped, but not enough.
In the mirror, her reflection looked composed, deceptively so.
She leaned in closer, almost accusing. “You let her get under your skin,” she muttered.
And she had.
She shut off the light and walked back into her dim bedroom.
Her phone buzzed.
She snatched it up too quickly then exhaled when she saw it wasn’t him.
Just Isabella. “Still awake?”
Elsa typed, “Barely,” then stared at the blinking cursor.
She didn’t send it.
The dress she’d worn earlier still hung on the back of a chair, draped like a ghost.
She hesitated, then got up, pulled it down, and shoved it into the back of her closet.
Lying in bed, she stared up at the ceiling and whispered his words again:
“Would it have made a difference?”
“You didn’t look small to me.”
“Always.”
She didn’t know whether to feel comforted or confused.
A sudden creak came from the hallway. She sat up, alert, heart hammering.
Then silence. Just the house settling. Still, her eyes stayed open a while longer.
But eventually, the weight of it all wore her down. And sometime between one thought and the next, she drifted off.
Elsa sat on the edge of her bed, the soft golden light of the morning sun filling her room. Near the window, Isabella lay stretched out on a chaise, looking relaxed and comfortable. The room was peaceful, with only the faint sounds of servants moving about downstairs as they prepared breakfast
Yet her mind was far from still.
Dinner at the De Luca mansion had left her shaken. Bianca’s smirk, her knowing tone, and the way she had spoken about Alex, like she owned a part of him Elsa would never reach echoed in her head.
"Stop frowning so much. You’ll give yourself wrinkles before the wedding," Isabella teased, breaking the silence.
Elsa turned her gaze to her friend, "She was mocking me, wasn’t she? Bianca."
Isabella didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she sat up, propping her chin on her hand as if debating how much truth Elsa could handle. Finally, she said, "Mocking might be an understatement. She was practically shooting at you."
"Why?" Elsa asked, her voice quieter.
Isabella gave her a pitying smile. "Because she’s jealous. And probably a little possessive. Bianca clearly has a history with Alex"
"Which she was more than happy to flaunt," Elsa interrupted, her tone sharper than she intended.
Isabella raised a brow, then grinned. "Is that a hint of jealousy I hear, Elsa Moretti?"
Elsa felt her cheeks warm and turned away. "Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not jealous."
"You sure? Because you’ve been fuming about her ever since we got back."
Elsa crossed her arms, glaring at the floor. "It’s not jealousy. It’s... frustration. She made me feel like I don’t belong."
Isabella’s teasing expression softened. She crossed the room and sat beside Elsa, her arm slipping around her shoulders. "Look, Bianca wanted to intimidate you, and maybe she succeeded for a moment. But you held your own, Elsa. You stood up to her and I’m super proud of you. And if Alex’s face was anything to go by, he was impressed."
Elsa looked up at that, startled. "He was?"
Isabella smirked. "Oh, absolutely. For a guy who barely shows emotion, I could see it in his eyes. He didn’t expect you to fight back."
The thought brought a brief warmth to Elsa’s chest, but it quickly faded, replaced by doubt. “It doesn’t matter,” she said quietly. “I don’t know how to handle any of this, Izzy. I don’t know how to be like Bianca… or how to deal with someone like Alex.”
"Good," Isabella said firmly. "Because you don’t need to be like Bianca. And as for Alex, trust me, that man probably needs someone exactly like you, someone who isn’t afraid to challenge him."
Elsa shook her head, standing and moving to the window. "I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this. For him. For this life."
Isabella joined her, leaning casually against the window frame. "You’re stronger than you think. And if you need reminding, I’ll be here to knock sense into you."
Elsa managed a small smile at that, but her thoughts remained heavy.
After Isabella had left her to rest, Elsa found herself staring at the engagement ring on her finger. The diamond caught the moonlight, sparkling as if mocking her uncertainty.
Bianca’s words haunted her.
"And I doubt you would understand him the way I do."
And maybe she wouldn’t. But she was determined to try.
Elsa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She didn’t choose this life, but she wouldn’t let it break her.
When Elsa stepped onto the balcony of her room, she spotted her mother, Rosa Moretti, sitting in the gardens below, sipping tea and reading letters as the morning sun bathed the space in golden light. Rosa was the embodiment of composure and strength, traits Elsa had admired for as long as she could remember, a woman who had navigated her own arranged marriage with elegance. If anyone could help her, it was her mother.
Wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders, Elsa descended the grand staircase and headed to the gardens.
- Writer
