He's 21, I'm 31

9

Diana's POV

That was his breaking point. He didn’t hesitate; he slapped me back with a force that made my head spin before roughly ratcheting handcuffs onto my wrists.

I didn't fight him. I didn't say a word. I simply followed them, letting them lead me wherever they wanted. I was too tired to resist anymore.

When we arrived at the station, I expected to be thrown into a cold, iron cell. Instead, he shoved me into a room that looked nothing like a prison. It had a bed, a small kitchenette, and a private bathroom.

Wait... was this Alessandro’s plan all along? No wonder he had let me "escape" so easily.

But where was Ayla? My heart ached with every beat. I prayed she was okay. This life is so cruel, but then, a name flickered in my mind like a dying candle.

Amara.

Could my daughter be with her? After Leo, Amara was the only person I considered family. The realization hit me. I scrambled to the door and began banging on the heavy metal.

"Open up! I know where my daughter is! Please, open the door!"

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the hall. "I’m sorry! Please! Pleasssssse!" The last plea was cut short by a sound of pure agony—the sound of something breaking.

Silence followed. I froze, my breath hitching in my throat.

Before I could retreat to the bed, the door swung open. I exhaled in terror. The police officer stood there—the same one I slapped who had slapped me back—but his hand was a mangled, bleeding mess.

"I'm sorry for what happened earlier," he whispered, bowing his head in shame.

"What?" was all I could gasp. He didn't answer; he simply backed out and shut the door.

"Hey! Come back and open this door!" I screamed, desperation taking over. "I know where she is! She needs me! I—"

I stopped dead as a deep, husky voice vibrated through the door.

"I'm in a good mood today," Alessandro growled, his voice low and lethal. "But the next time you lay your filthy hands on her, start counting your days. You won't live to see the sunset."

"Alessandro!" I shouted, dropping the 'Master' title entirely. "Why did you lock me here? You said you’d let me go! Stop playing games like a child and keep your word!"

"Alessandro! Alessandro! Alessandro!" I screamed his name over and over, fueled by rage.

The door didn't just open—it burst off its hinges. I was shoved back by the sheer force of it, my head slamming against the stone wall. The world turned into a blurry smear of grey.

Before I could find my footing, a hand gripped my throat, pinning me to the wall. I thrashed, clawing at his fingers, gasping for air that wouldn't come.

"Only my mother calls me by that name," he hissed, his face inches from mine.

"The next time you say 'Alessandro,' I swear I will ruin you until there is nothing left. Understood?"

I could only nod frantically. I looked up at him—his eyes were a terrifying, bloodshot red, the muscles in his neck and forehead bulging with a murderous rage.

"Please... don't kill me... Ayla—"

Darkness claimed me again.

I woke up on the bed with a piece of paper resting on the pillow beside me. My hands shook as I picked it up.

'In my whole life, I have never been as angry as I was today. I felt like killing you and leaving you as a cold corpse, but I couldn't. This is your only warning: if you call me Alessandro again, your days are numbered.

Good news: You are free. Go wherever you want. But do not let me set eyes on you again. If our paths cross once more, you will be mine forever, and the deal will be sealed. As far as I and my men are concerned, you never existed.

— Moretti.'

Was this real? He had signed it with his surname, cold and final. Good. I would never submit to a man like him.

I was still in my thin hospital gown, and the shadows outside suggested it was late into the night. I didn't care. I had to get to Amara’s house.

As I reached the exit, a voice stopped me. "Master said you should wait until morning before leaving."

I didn't even turn around to see who was speaking. I didn't have money for a taxi or a bike, so I just started walking into the dark, my bare feet hitting the cold pavement.