Who Is She?
1014 Words
Chapter 13: Who is She?
The first thing I felt when I opened my eyes was heaviness, like my bones had borrowed the weight of the night before. My eyelids still stung from all the crying.
I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, tracing invisible shapes in the air. My head was a storm I didn’t have the strength to quiet, and my body refused to move.
“Is the room ready?”
“I said lilies, not roses! How many times do I need to repeat that?”
“Take those out!”
The frantic voices sliced through the stillness, followed by the unmistakable shuffle of hurried feet. Something was happening.
Something important.
I pushed myself up slowly, still in the same wrinkled dress from that cursed dinner. Part of me wanted to fall back into bed, pull the covers over my head, and pretend the world outside didn’t exist. But curiosity just couldn’t let me be.
This house had been dead quiet for days. What could possibly require flowers this early in the morning?
The bathroom mirror didn’t bother sugarcoating anything. I looked wrecked. My hair hung in loose, messy tangles. Mascara smeared my swollen eyes. My dress was creased like I’d slept in a ditch. I looked like I’d barely survived a fight and still hadn’t won.
I took the fastest shower I could manage—no time for my usual rituals. Clean, fitted black pants, a plain white top. Minimal makeup to hide the damage. The goal wasn’t to look good. Just… less breakable.
By the time I went downstairs, the mansion had shifted. It was alive. Voices overlapped. Doors opened and slammed. Someone laughed too loudly; someone else hissed orders under their breath.
“Hey,” I stopped a maid hurrying past. “What’s going on?”
She barely looked at me. “Big day,” she muttered before vanishing into another room.
Big day.
Big day for who?
Was all this for an event or an important client?
Before I could figure it out, I saw him.
Adrian stood by the front doors like he’d been carved there. Hands in his pockets, wearing a grey shirt and tailored trousers, hair freshly styled. He looked calm, collected… untouched by the chaos.
I was still staring when someone shoved past me.
“Move! You’re in the way!”
“What the hell is wrong with these people?”
Because of their mystery guest, I’m now invisible? I need a break from this madhouse.
“She’s here! They just entered the estate! Move, move!”
Everything stilled for a beat. Then the frenzy doubled.
“Clear the driveway.”
“Leave now.”
My pulse spiked. She?
Who is this she?
And what’s the hype around her?
Who was he expecting? A business partner? No one had told me. But then again, why would they?
Adrian still hadn’t moved. The stillness in him made me uneasy, like he was waiting for something inevitable. Whoever she was, she didn’t just command attention. She made people tremble.
And then… silence.
A sleek black car rolled into the driveway. The kind that didn’t need to flaunt its price tag.
I found myself at the edge of the steps with everyone else, pretending I wasn’t bracing myself. The back door opened.
A nude stiletto heel touched the pavement first. Pointed, confident. Then another. Long legs followed, wrapped in perfectly tailored cream trousers. Her blouse was tucked in sharp and neat, the cuffs rolled just enough to look effortless.
And then I saw her face.
Alessandra.
Alessandra Vescari.
Adrian’s fiancée or rather, his ex-fiancée.
My throat tightened. I’d only ever seen her on TV or in glossy magazine spreads. In person, she wasn’t the soft girl-next-door pretty. She was the kind of pretty that made people feel intimidated.
She walked like each step was a statement.
Adrian stepped forward.
“Alessandra.” His expression softened. Barely.
She stopped in front of him and, without hesitation, took off her sunglasses in one slow, deliberate motion. She leaned in and hugged him with the kind of familiarity that didn’t need permission. Her hand slid behind his neck. Her lips grazed his cheek slow, soft, and far too intimate for my liking.
Like they’d never been apart.
I felt the weight of every eye on me. The silent question hanging in the air: Another woman just kissed your husband. What are you going to do?
“You look tired,” she murmured, tilting her head, her fingers brushing his chest.
“Busy week?”
“You could say that.”
“I would’ve come sooner,” she said, voice lowering, “but Father insisted I finish things in Geneva before flying out.”
“You didn’t have to come at all.”
“Of course I did.”
“How was your flight?”
“Comfortable.”
They kept talking in hushed tones. It was as if the rest of us disappeared. They stood there in their own private frame, while I gripped the staircase railing behind me just to ground myself.
Her gaze slid past him, landing on me. Curious at first… then narrowing, like she’d stumbled on something she didn’t like.
“And who’s this?” Alessandra asked, but her tone sounded more like, What is this doing here?
“Reina,” Adrian answered instantly.
Her smile sharpened almost playful, but cold underneath. “Your… wife?”
The word landed like a slap.
“I’ll assume that’s a yes.”
“Nice to meet you, Reina Cavallo.” She laughed lightly, but the sound was a blade.
I kept my face still, though something inside me pulled tight, hard enough to hurt.
Adrian finally glanced toward the doors. “Let’s go in.”
She brushed past me, her perfume sharp and sweet. And as she did, I heard her say something in a low tone.
“Let’s see how long that lasts.”
Something about the way she said it set me off. It didn’t sound like a threat. It sounded like a promise.
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