๐๐ต๐ฎ๐ฝ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐ข๐ป๐ฒ: ๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฃ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ณ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ ๐ช๐ถ๐ณ๐ฒ.
557 Words
Aria Moretti stood before the full-length mirror in the dressing room of the Volkov mansion, studying the fading bruise along her collarbone.
Purple.
Blue.
Yellow.
It would take three layers of concealer before foundation could hide it.
She opened the Sunset Beauty makeup case that had become as essential as breathing. Ironically, the company's best-selling products weren't just tools for beauty anymore.
They were armor.
Her fingers worked automatically, dabbing color corrector onto the bruised skin before blending foundation over it until her complexion looked flawless once again.
No one would notice.
No one ever did.
She fastened a pair of diamond earrings, slipped into a cream-colored pantsuit, and forced the smile she had perfected over the last six years.
The smile of Mrs. Nikolai Volkov.
The smile of a woman everyone believed was living a fairy tale.
Downstairs, the dining room was silent except for the soft clink of silverware.
Nikolai Volkov sat at the head of the table, reading reports while drinking black coffee.
At forty-three, the Russian mafia Don commanded fear without raising his voice. Broad-shouldered, impeccably dressed, and always composed, he looked every bit the powerful man the newspapers admired.
He glanced up as Aria entered.
"You're late."
"I'm sorry."
She took her seat without another word.
His gaze lingered on her face.
"You covered it well."
Her stomach tightened.
He always noticed.
"The makeup?"
"The bruise."
She lowered her eyes.
"Thank you."
He reached across the table, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear with surprising gentleness.
"I don't enjoy hurting you, Aria."
She remained perfectly still.
"You know that."
She didn't answer.
"I only expect obedience."
The room became unbearably quiet.
A maid entered carrying breakfast, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
No one in the mansion ever looked at Aria for too long.
They all knew.
They all pretended not to.
...
An hour later, Aria stepped out of the black luxury sedan in front of Sunset Beauty's headquarters.
The towering glass building reflected the morning sunlight like a jewel.
Here, she wasn't Mrs. Volkov.
She was Deputy CEO.
Employees greeted her with warm smiles.
"Good morning, Ms. Moretti."
"Morning."
"The board meeting starts in twenty minutes."
She nodded confidently, slipping effortlessly into the role everyone expected.
Inside the executive boardroom, her father, CEO Alessandro Moretti, was already reviewing quarterly reports.
"There she is," he said proudly. "Our future CEO."
Her brother, Matteo, smiled from across the table.
"You look tired."
"Long night."
"You should rest more."
"I will."
It was another lie.
She had become fluent in them.
Throughout the meeting, Aria negotiated contracts, approved marketing campaigns, and impressed investors with calm authority.
No one guessed that only hours earlier she had been hiding bruises in her bedroom.
By evening, applause filled the conference hall after a successful product launch.
Cameras flashed.
Journalists praised the Moretti family.
Aria smiled for every photograph.
Beautiful.
Elegant.
Untouchable.
Perfect.
Across the room, a tall man had just entered the celebration.
His tailored black suit fit him perfectly, and his calm gray eyes swept across the crowd until they landed on her.
He hadn't seen Aria in nearly ten years.
Yet he recognized her instantly.
She looked beautiful.
But her smile...
It never reached her eyes.
Lior Voss knew that smile.
Because once, long ago, she'd never needed to fake one.
- Writer
