Chapter Five:The Bride with nothing left
1498 Words
Aria’s POV
I woke up disoriented. For a moment, I didn’t recognize the room.
The ceiling was unfamiliar, the sheets smelled different. Sunlight poured through floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Milan, then everything came back.
The wedding, Luca, Sofia, Romano, the car, Romano offering me spending the night in his mansion, everything. My chest tightened instantly.
I sat up slowly and pressed a hand against my forehead, yesterday felt like a nightmare.
Unfortunately, it had actually happened, a soft knock sounded at the door but beforeI could answer, a woman stepped inside carrying a tray.
“Good morning, Miss Vale.”
I stared at her, she smiled politely.
“Mr. Ciel asked us to make sure you had breakfast.”
Of course he did, the thought should have annoyed me. Instead, it made something warm and uncomfortable settle in my chest.
“Where is he?”
“He left early this morning.”
The feeling disappeared immediately.
“Oh”
Why was I disappointed? I barely knew the man.
The woman left after placing the tray on a nearby table. I looked at the food, then looked away. I wasn’t hungry, not even a little. My phone sat on the bedside table and the sight of it made my stomach twist.
Slowly, I picked it up.
Three hundred and seventeen notifications.
Missed calls.
Messages.
Voicemails.
News articles.
Photographs.
My throat tightened as I opened the first article.
MYSTERY AS BRIDE VANISHES HOURS BEFORE WEDDING
The next one was worse.
HEIRESS ABANDONS GROOM ON WEDDING DAY
My face burned, the comments flooded beneath every article. People speculating, mocking, guessing but nobody knew the truth. I closed the articles and opened my messages instead, big mistake.
Luca.
Forty-three missed calls.
Sofia.
Twenty-seven messages.
Unknown relatives.
Friends.
People I barely remembered, everyone wanted answers, everyone wanted explanations, nobody seemed to realize I didn’t have any and I wasn’t ready to talk.
A message from Sofia sat near the top.
Please talk to me.
Another followed 30 minutes after.
It’s not what you think.
I laughed, a sharp, humorless sound, they must have watched the security footage from the hotel.
Not what I think?
I caught my fiancé in a hotel room with my best friend, what exactly was the alternative explanation?
I dropped the phone onto the bed as my eyes stung.
No, I wasn’t crying again, I refused.
I climbed out of bed and walked toward the window, the city stretched endlessly below, people moved through their lives.
Working, shopping, laughing, existing, meanwhile mine had exploded overnight.
A knock sounded again, this time it was Dante.
“Good morning.”
I recognized him immediately from the night before, Romano’s right hand. Unlike Romano, Dante smiled easily.
“Romano asked me to check on you.”
“Does Romano always assign bodyguards to random women?”
Dante laughed.
“No.”
That answer again, apparently I was special.
Wonderful.
“Where is he?”
“Working.”
Of course, everyone seemed to work except me; because apparently my current occupation was surviving emotional disasters.
Dante’s smile softened slightly.
“Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“You should.”
“I’m not hungry.”
His expression said he didn’t believe that, he was probably right.
“I need to go home.”
His smile disappeared.
“Home?”
“Yes.”
“My apartment.”
Dante hesitated, just enough for me to notice.
“What?”
“Romano wanted you to stay here today.”
I folded my arms.
“I’m not a prisoner.”
“No one said you were.”
“Then I’m leaving.”
A sigh escaped him.
“I’ll have a driver take you.”
“I don’t need a driver.”
“You do.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then stopped, because I suddenly realized I was exhausted, too exhausted to fight.
“Fine.”
The drive felt longer than usual, my apartment building looked exactly the same, normal, ordinary, safe, but my life wasn’t anymore.
For the first time in my life, I was grateful for ordinary. I climbed out of the car and headed toward the entrance. The driver remained behind, watching, probably under Romano’s instructions to watch me go into my apartment before returning and the thought irritated me, just a little, not much.
After I got that text, Romano has been protective, it made me wonder if he’s like that with every lady he sees. The elevator ride up felt strangely uncomfortable, my reflection stared back at me.
No wedding dress, no veil, no future, just the track suit Dante had got for me yesterday.
By the time I reached my floor, a headache had begun forming, I walked toward my apartment, then stopped; something felt wrong but I couldn’t explain it.
The hallway was quiet, the door was closed, everything looked normal but the uneasy feeling remained.
Slowly, I reached for my keys, the lock clicked and I pushed the door open and froze. The apartment was a disaster, my stomach dropped instantly. Drawers hung open, cabinet doors stood wide, books littered the floor, cushions had been ripped apart, my desk had been completely emptied.
For several seconds, I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, someone had gone through everything, every room, every drawer and every piece of my life; fear crawled slowly down my spine.
“No…”
The word barely escaped, I stepped inside, my pulse hammered violently, nothing valuable was missing, the television remained, my laptop sat untouched, jewelry still rested where I left it.
This wasn’t theft, someone had been searching.
But for what?
My hands began shaking.
I moved through the apartment room by room, the destruction continued everywhere. Bedroom, bathroom, closet, living room, everywhere.
A strange pressure built behind my ribs, growing heavier and heavier and heavier. Until suddenly it wasn’t about the apartment anymore, it wasn’t about the break-in, it wasn’t even about whoever had done this, it was everything.
Everything at once, Luca, Sofia, the wedding, the lies, the strange incidents that had followed me for years, the unanswered questions about my parents that had made me spend my entire life looking for answers, the feeling that something had always been wrong with my life.
I had spent years convincing myself I was imagining things, the missing records, the inconsistencies, the strange looks whenever I asked questions, the dead ends.
Now someone had broken into my home, I wasn’t imagining things, something was happening, something bigger than I understood.
My knees suddenly felt weak, I sank onto the edge of the couch.
Then I laughed, a small, broken sound and It quickly turned into tears.
Not because of Luca, or Sofia or the house, it was because I was tired, so unbelievably tired.
Tired of losing people, tired of never having answers, tired of feeling like my entire life belonged to someone else’s secrets.
A sob escaped before I could stop it, then another, I covered my face and for the first time since leaving the hotel, I let myself break. Everything hurt, everything, the apartment, the betrayal, the fear, the loneliness, the uncertainty, it all crashed into me at once.
Minutes passed, maybe some time longer. Eventually, my breathing began to slow, I wiped my face and forced myself to stand.
My trembling fingers found Romano’s number, I had nobody else to call. He answered before the second ring.
“Aria.”
The calmness in his voice nearly broke me, everything felt like too much. The wedding, Luca, Sofia, the apartment, the feeling that my entire life was falling apart.
“Romano…” My voice shook.
His tone changed immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
I looked around the destroyed apartment.
“Someone was here.”
A pause.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“What was taken?”
“I don’t know.”
“Listen to me carefully,” he said. “Leave the apartment, go downstairs and wait for my men; don’t touch anything else. I’m on my way.”
I closed my eyes briefly, for some reason, hearing someone take control made me want to cry all over again.
“Okay.”
As he continued speaking, my gaze drifted across the living room, then stopped. Something was attached to the window and my stomach tightened.
“Aria?” Romano said.
I walked closer, slowly. The object was a photograph taped to the glass, my heartbeat began to pound.
“Aria.”
I pulled it free with shaking fingers, it was a picture of me getting into Romano’s car last night, my wedding dress, me, taken from a distance, someone had been watching.
“Aria, talk to me.”
I turned the photograph over, a message had been written across the back.
The color drained from my face.
“Aria?”
My voice came out as a whisper.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
I couldn’t stop staring at the words.
YOU SHOULD HAVE MARRIED LUCA.
- Writer
