The promised bride

The slap came so hard Seraphina’s vision went white. She crashed into the dining table, knocking over a glass that shattered on the tiled floor, and barely caught herself before her knees gave out completely. Her cheek burned like someone had pressed a hot iron to it. Her ears rang. She pressed her palm to her face and looked up at the three of them Bruno, Carmela, and Valentina standing over her like a wall. All because she said no. “You ungrateful little rat,” Carmela hissed. Her chest was heaving, a strand of dark hair fallen loose from her bun, her eyes bright with a fury that made her look like a completely different person. “After everything we have done for you. After everything we have sacrificed. You stand there in my house and tell me no?” “I said I don’t want to marry him.” Seraphina straightened up slowly, her legs shaking beneath her. “That’s all I said.” “That’s all” Bruno let out a short, ugly laugh. He was a big man thick neck, broad shoulders, hands like slabs of meat and when he stepped forward the room seemed to shrink around him. “Do you have any idea what those men did to me this morning? Do you know what they threatened? They said if I don’t pay by the end of the week they will take everything. The house. The car. Everything.” “That is not my fault,” Seraphina said. “Watch your mouth” “I said that is not my fault!” Her voice cracked on the last word and she hated herself for it. She took a breath, tried to steady herself. “I did not borrow that money. I did not spend it. So why am I the one paying for it?” Carmela moved so fast Seraphina didn’t see it coming. Her hand connected with the same cheek Bruno had already hit and this time Seraphina did go down one knee on the cold tile, palm flat on the floor, head spinning. “You pay for it,” Carmela said, leaning down close, her voice dropping to something low and mean, “because you live in this house. Because we clothed you and fed you and kept you when nobody else wanted you. You were nothing when we took you in. Nothing. And this one thing is all we are asking of you.” Seraphina looked up at her. Her eyes were burning but she refused she absolutely refused to cry in front of them. Not today. Not anymore. “Matteo Greco is not right,” she said quietly. “Everyone in the village knows it. He can barely string two sentences together. You want to hand me over to a man like that just to clear a debt?” “He is the village chief’s son,” Bruno said flatly, like that answered everything. “I don’t care whose son he is” “Lorenzo Greco is a wealthy man.” Bruno crossed his arms, his jaw tight. “His family will pay well. More than enough to settle what we owe and have money left over. This is done, Seraphina. This is not a conversation.” She pushed herself back to her feet. Her knee was throbbing. Her cheek felt twice its normal size. But she stood straight and looked him dead in the eye. “Then why not Valentina?” The room went very quiet. Valentina, who had been leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed and an expression of mild boredom, went completely still. Carmela’s face tightened. Bruno’s eyes narrowed. “She is twenty-three,” Seraphina said, her voice steady even though her heart was slamming against her ribs. “She is three years older than me. She is not married. So if someone in this house needs to marry Matteo Greco, why is it me? Why is it always me and never her?” “Seraphina” Carmela’s voice came out like a warning. “No.” She stepped forward, the broken glass crunching under her shoe. “I want an answer. Give me one good reason why it has to be me.” Bruno’s hand shot out and grabbed her by the front of her shirt. He dragged her forward until her face was inches from his and she could smell the coffee on his breath. “Because Valentina,” he said slowly, each word deliberate, “is our daughter.” There it was. Just like that. No hesitation. No shame. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Because Valentina is our daughter. And you are not. Seraphina had known it her whole life. She had felt it in every chore that was always hers and never Valentina’s. In every hand-me-down, every cold shoulder, every time Carmela hugged Valentina and gave her a pat on the back like she was something to be tolerated. She had always known. But hearing it said out loud casually, like it was reason enough for anything, was something she had not prepared herself for. Bruno shoved her backward. She hit the wall. “Go upstairs,” he said. “Pack what you need. You leave for the Greco house by this evening.” “I’m not going,” she whispered. “What did you just say to me?” “I said” she pushed herself off the wall, her voice rising “I am not going! I don’t care about your debt, I don’t care about Lorenzo Greco, I don’t care about any of it you are not doing this to me” Bruno’s belt came off. The sound of it leather sliding through loops made her stomach drop. “Bruno,” Valentina said from the doorway, shifting uncomfortably. “Maybe we should just” “Stay out of it,” he snapped. Carmela grabbed Seraphina’s arm, fingers digging in like claws, and yanked her forward. “You think you have a choice? You think this is a democracy? We took you in when you had nothing. When you were absolutely nothing. You owe us” “I owe you nothing!” Seraphina wrenched her arm away so hard she stumbled. “I have cooked your food since I was eight years old! I have cleaned this house, washed your clothes, run your errands, done everything you ever asked of me and you still stand there and tell me I owe you?” Her voice broke. “What more do you want from me? What more can I possibly give you?” “Your obedience!” Carmela screamed. The belt came down across her back. She gasped a short, sharp sound and grabbed the back of the chair in front of her. The pain was immediate and searing, cutting straight through the fabric of her shirt. “You will go to that house,” Bruno said behind her, breathing hard. “And you will smile. And you will be grateful. Or so help me” The belt came down again. “Stop” she choked. Again. “Bruno, enough,” Valentina said, her voice uneasy now. Nobody listened. Carmela grabbed her hair. Seraphina cried out, clawed at her hand, twisted her elbow caught Carmela in the ribs and Carmela shrieked and stumbled backward And suddenly there was a gap. A small one. Just for a second. Seraphina didn’t think. Her legs just moved. She shoved past Bruno’s reaching arm, ducked under his hand, and ran. Through the hallway, past the coatrack, past the family photos on the wall that had never once included her face she threw the front door open so hard it slammed against the outside wall and she was out.