Chapter three:when everything falls Apart
717 Words
I didn’t sleep.
The room was too silent, too polished—too unlike the life I crawled out of. I lay still in the oversized bed, staring at the ceiling that probably cost more than my entire apartment. A chandelier glittered in the dim light, mocking me with luxury I didn’t earn.
I signed my name last night.
I sold a year of my life to the devil.
For her.
My phone sat on the nightstand. No messages. I didn’t expect any. Friends disconnect when life drags you into survival mode. My mother was the only constant. Losing her isn’t an option.
A knock hit the door softly.
Before I could answer, it opened.
Of course it did.
Dante entered like he owned the air too. Sharp suit, no tie. Sleeves rolled just enough to expose the veins in his forearm and the expensive watch hugging his wrist. He didn’t look like a man who lost sleep over signing a woman to him.
The room felt smaller.
“You’re awake,” he said simply.
“You’re observant,” I replied, sitting up.
His eyes lowered, noting my still-wearing yesterday’s clothes. He didn’t comment. Maybe he expected tears, maybe panic.
Too bad. He got me instead.
“I arranged for breakfast,” he said, checking his watch. “We have a public appearance at ten.”
“Public appearance?” I repeated.
He nodded. “A charity gala. First official outing as my wife.” He watched me carefully. “You’ll need to act like the marriage was your idea.”
I laughed once, humorless. “Do you often let women pretend they’re in love with you?”
“No,” he said, stepping closer. “But you’re not pretending love. You’re pretending loyalty.”
“And what if I fail that?” I asked.
He stopped at the edge of the bed. “Then you’re either careless… or suicidal.”
That again.
“Get dressed,” he continued. “You’ll find clothes in the walk-in. Choose something sophisticated. Understated.”
“I don’t remember approving wardrobe control,” I muttered.
“You approved everything,” he countered. “When you signed.”
My jaw tightened. He turned to leave.
“Dante,” I called.
He paused.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I said.
He looked back—slowly.
“No,” he agreed. “You’re afraid of yourself. That makes you unpredictable.”
A beat passed between us, like static.
He left without another word.
I exhaled.
Maybe he was right.
I stood and walked into the closet. Rows of designer dresses stared back at me. Black, navy, deep emerald. Power colors. None of them were mine.
A small tag was pinned to one of the dresses.
Wear this. Do not challenge the council today. – D
I rolled my eyes but picked the dress anyway.
As I got ready—makeup light, hair in a sleek twist—I saw myself transformed. Not into his perfect wife.
Into a weapon.
By nine-thirty, I walked into the main living room. Dante waited, adjusting cufflinks. His gaze swept over me, expression unreadable.
“Adequate,” he said.
“Compliments will ruin your reputation,” I shot back.
For a split second, his lips almost curved. Almost.
He stepped closer, touching the small earpiece hidden behind my hair. “Security communication,” he said quietly. “You’ll be watched today.”
“By your men?” I asked.
“By my enemies,” he corrected.
I stiffened.
He straightened up. “Stay by my side. Don’t speak unless necessary. And whatever happens—”
“Do not run,” I finished.
His eyes met mine.
“Exactly.”
He offered his arm.
I hesitated before taking it.
His scent—expensive, dark, unsettling—wrapped around me. As we walked toward the elevator, I caught our reflection.
He looked untouchable.
I looked like I belonged beside him.
It was a lie. But sometimes lies are survival.
When the elevator doors closed, he spoke without looking at me.
“If you feel overwhelmed today, remember this—”
He turned then, eyes colder.
“You chose this. And that means you survive it.”
“I always do,” I answered.
The elevator arrived.
The world was waiting.
- Writer
