The Wrong Bride

Chapter Three: "Home"

The drive from the church to Cassio’s mansion was a blur of headlights and the soft hum of the car engine. Giana sat beside him in the back seat, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her eyes unfocused as she stared out the window. The night air felt cool against the glass, and she longed for a moment of stillness, a break from the whirlwind of the day. But that was impossible now. The world had shifted irrevocably, and her new life had already begun.

Cassio sat beside her, his jaw set, his eyes focused straight ahead, never once glancing her way. She could feel the distance between them, thick and heavy. In the days leading up to the wedding, she had been haunted by the knowledge that he didn’t love her. That truth was now an unbearable weight upon her chest. But even now, in the silence between them, there was something more—something unspoken, something that simmered just below the surface.

The mansion came into view—a towering, imposing structure that seemed more like a fortress than a home. Its sleek, modern design, with glass windows reflecting the moonlight and cold steel accents, made it appear both beautiful and unwelcoming. The gates opened as the car approached, and they rolled smoothly down the long driveway, past perfectly manicured hedges and towering columns.

The car came to a stop in front of the grand entrance. Giana didn’t move at first, not sure what to expect. She had heard rumors about the mansion—about the secrets it housed and the power it represented. This place wasn’t just a home; it was a symbol of everything Cassio Romano had built.

Cassio stepped out of the car first, his movements sharp and precise. He looked at her as the door opened, his expression unreadable, before offering his hand to help her out. She hesitated for a moment, a flicker of defiance in her chest, but then she took his hand. He didn’t hold it like a husband would—there was no tenderness, no warmth. It was a gesture, an obligation, nothing more.

She followed him up the marble steps, into the massive front hall of the mansion. The air inside was cool, the light dim, as though the house itself was holding its breath. The grand chandelier overhead cast shadows on the walls, which were adorned with dark, elegant paintings and sculptures. It felt like a museum—sterile and cold.

Cassio led her down a long hallway toward a set of double doors. He opened them with ease, revealing a spacious bedroom. The bed was enormous, draped in dark linens, the soft, luxurious fabric seemingly untouched. The room was furnished with rich woods and antique decor, but again, everything felt more like an exhibit than a home.

Giana stood just inside the door, feeling the weight of the silence pressing down on her. This was it—the room she would now share with Cassio. The thought made her stomach turn. She had imagined what her wedding night might be like—though she hadn’t dared to hope for any kind of romance or tenderness. She had known that, even before today, Cassio would never love her. But the reality of it felt different now, like an ice-cold reality she couldn’t escape.

"Welcome to our home," Cassio’s voice broke through the silence, though it held no warmth. His words felt like an echo in the vast space between them.

Giana didn’t respond immediately. She took a step farther into the room, her heels clicking softly on the marble floors. Her gaze drifted to the large windows that framed the city lights beyond. Everything felt so distant, so foreign. The life she had known was a distant memory now, slipping further away with each passing moment.

"I’ve never been here before," she finally said, her voice soft. "This is... everything is so different."

Cassio's expression softened for just a moment before his usual mask slid back into place. "I know. This is where we’ll be living now, for the most part. You’ll get used to it."

The finality in his tone stung, and she looked away, unwilling to meet his eyes. The idea of being here, with him, under the same roof, felt like a weight she couldn’t lift.

“I didn’t choose this,” she said quietly, almost to herself, but Cassio heard. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he moved toward a small bar area near the far side of the room and poured two glasses of dark red wine, holding one out to her.

"Drink," he said simply, his voice carrying an edge of command. "We’ll have a drink to mark the beginning of this."

Giana took the glass without a word, but she didn’t drink it. She let the weight of the glass settle in her hand, the liquid swirling within. She glanced at Cassio, who stood by the window, staring out at the night. He had always seemed so in control, so certain of everything, but now… he felt distant, like a man who had already closed off a part of himself.

She wondered if he was thinking of Liana. If this wedding was just another step in a long line of compromises he had made to secure his future. Was he still haunted by her absence? Was there any part of him that resented her for vanishing, for escaping everything they had planned? The idea of Liana, of her sister’s freedom, gnawed at Giana’s mind. How could Cassio, who had once adored her sister, truly accept her as his wife? It felt like betrayal.

Nothing felt right tonight. Not the mansion and certainly not the man beside her.

Cassio turned to her, his expression unreadable. "We’ll have a long road ahead, Giana. We both know this isn’t ideal, but we’ll make it work. For the family. For the future."

The words were almost rehearsed, like something he had told himself a hundred times before. She didn’t respond. What could she say? That this wasn’t the life she wanted? That she couldn’t pretend that they would ever be a real couple? There was no use in saying any of it. She had to accept it.

"I’ll be in my office for a while," he added, his voice breaking the stillness. "I need to make a few calls. You should get some rest. Tomorrow’s another busy day."

He didn’t wait for a response, turning to walk out of the room, leaving her standing alone.

Giana stood there, the glass of wine still in her hand, staring at the empty doorway where he had just exited. She felt the weight of the room press in on her, suffocating her. The mansion was beautiful, yes, but it was also a prison. The silence between them, the coldness in the air—it was the beginning of a life she hadn’t chosen. And as she set the glass down on the bedside table, the tears she had been holding back finally fell.

No matter what happened tomorrow, the truth was clear: she was alone.

And Cassio, with all his power and all his wealth, would never be the one to save her.