Chapter 3: She Isn't Getting Married
1442 Words
After a brief silence, Valentina’s father cleared his throat, breaking the thick tension in the air. Beads of cold sweat glistened on his forehead, despite the hum of the air conditioner.
“I know you’re both wondering the reason for this meeting… especially you, Valentina.”
His deep voice filled the room, and when his eyes met hers, something in his intense gaze made her heart skip a beat.
Swallowing hard, she nodded.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Valentina watched her mother quietly close her hands over his, as if lending him courage to speak.
Finally, he exhaled. “Valentina,” he began, “I know you’ve had questions—after noticing some of the changes happening around the house. Well… just as you might have guessed, our business hasn’t exactly been in the best shape lately. In fact, we’ve hit rock bottom.”
After uttering those words, he bowed his head slightly, as though ashamed.
Valentina froze. She had known things were bad—but not this bad. She didn’t want to believe it, yet one look at her mother’s downcast eyes and Maria’s tight expression told her it was true.
But how?
What could have caused this?
“Father… what happened? How did it happen?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Her father raised his head slowly.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, the words falling heavy between them.
Valentina’s shoulders slumped. It doesn’t matter. They always told her that—like she didn’t deserve to be part of the family’s affairs, as though her concern was a burden.
In the silence that followed, her father continued.
“It doesn’t matter because… it has all been sorted out.”
Her head snapped up, hope flickering in her chest.
“Really?” she asked eagerly.
But when she turned toward her mother and sister, neither of them looked relieved. Her mother’s lips were pressed together tightly. Maria stared blankly at the floor.
Her father’s voice drew her back.
“But,” he said, “it’s not completely over yet.”
He paused, his jaw tightening. “You’ve probably heard of Lucian Romano, haven’t you?”
At the mention of that name, Valentina felt her stomach drop.
Of course she had heard of him—everyone had. Lucian Romano: the most feared Don in all of Italy. A man whispered about in half-truths and horror stories. Those who saw him rarely lived to tell the tale.
She sat forward, her fingers twisting in her lap. The blood drained from her face.
What did he have to do with their family?
Her father’s next words came slowly, painfully.
“He was our only option—the only one powerful enough to bring us out of this ruin. But in return… he asked for our daughter. The heiress.”
His voice cracked at the end. He bowed his head again .
Valentina’s breath hitched. For several seconds, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. The room seemed to spin.
She turned to her sister, her heart pounding.
Even if they weren’t close, Maria was still her sister. She couldn’t bear the thought of her being tied to a man like that.
“Father,” she whispered, “isn’t there another way? Must Maria marry that evil man?”
Her father finally met her eyes—and the look he gave her made her blood run cold.
“Your sister isn’t getting married,” he said quietly.
“You are.”
From the time it took those words to leave her father’s lips and travel to her ears, Valentina felt her head split in four different directions. The world seemed to tilt, spinning violently around her.
“I— I don’t understand,” she stammered, hoping—praying—she had misheard. How did not wishing such a fate on her sister suddenly make her the bearer of it?
Her father drew in a deep breath. “You heard me, Valentina. You’re getting married to Lucian Romano.”
She blinked at him, then let out a nervous chuckle.
“This is a joke, right?” she said, her voice trembling between laughter and disbelief.
She glanced around the room—at her mother, at her sister—but no one laughed. Her father’s expression remained grave; Maria’s face was unreadable, a mask of indifference.
“You’re joking, right?” she tried again, her voice cracking this time.
When silence greeted her once more, something inside her snapped.
“Father! Tell me you’re joking!”
Her father’s gaze hardened. “Sit down,” he ordered, his tone sharp, commanding—the same tone that had once made her freeze as a child.
But not this time.
“No!” Valentina’s voice trembled with fury. “Not until you explain what you just said. How did it turn from Maria being the bride to me?”
“I said sit down!” His eyes flashed, his voice echoing through the study. But Valentina remained standing, fists clenched at her sides. She had never defied him before—never dared—but this time, fear was no longer enough to chain her.
Her father’s hand reached behind the desk, retrieving a thin, polished rod. Her breath hitched. The rod. Her rod of correction. The same one used years ago when she was wild and disobedient. Maria had never known its sting,she had always been the perfect one.
Her mother’s hand shot out, gripping her husband’s arm before he could rise.
“Valentina,” she said, her voice firm but pleading. “Sit down. Listen to your father.”
“But—”
“Sit!” Her mother’s tone sharpened, and though her heart rebelled, Valentina sank slowly into her seat.
Her father lowered the rod back to the desk, rubbing his temples before speaking.
“Valentina,” he began again, weary but resolute, “when you said you wanted to go into film school to be an actress, did we oppose you?”
Valentina crossed her arms. “No.”
“When you said you didn’t want anything to do with the family business, did we force you?”
She shook her head again, her lips pressed tightly.
“So you can agree with me that we’ve allowed you to do whatever you wanted?”
She scoffed. “Whatever I wanted? Do you remember how much I had to do before you agreed to those things? Do you remember me starving myself, running away, threatening to go to the media before you finally gave in? And now you say you allowed me to do whatever I wanted?”
“Valentina! Don’t raise your voice at your father,” her mother snapped.
Valentina turned to her, her voice breaking. “Mother, you too? How could you support this? I’m twenty years old—barely finishing school! Are you that eager to throw me away?”
Her father’s cold tone cut through her plea. “What’s wrong with getting married at twenty? That’s how old your mother was when I married her.”
“But still,” she cried, tears blurring her vision. “What about my dreams? My whole life?”
“Your dreams can wait!” he thundered. “You have duties to this family first. It’s time you did something for us for once.”
His words struck her harder than any blow. It felt like a bucket of ice water poured over her heart. So that was it. They had never truly supported her—they were simply biding their time until she could be used.
Tears streamed freely now as she turned to her mother, voice trembling.
“They asked for Maria,” she whispered. “They asked for your heiress. So after all these years, I’m suddenly worth enough to take her title—when it means being sacrificed?”
For a heartbeat, she thought her mother would defend her. But when she finally spoke, her words shattered what was left of Valentina’s hope.
“You know we can’t marry Maria to such a man,” her mother said quietly. “She’s the one who will carry on the business now that it’s being revived. You have to understand.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Valentina could swear she heard her heart break—splintering into a thousand tiny pieces.
Can’t marry such a person.
So she was the one who could?
She was the one whose dreams were disposable?
The one whose life meant less?
As another tear slid down her cheek, she finally understood what it meant when people said betrayal from the ones you love hurts more than death.
- Writer
