Chapter 3: The Phantom Bargain
1204 Words
Aria woke to the scent of lavender and the distant hush of morning light.
For a fragile heartbeat, she believed she was back in her studio — her messy canvases, cracked wooden floors, music humming softly from an old speaker. She almost felt Richard’s hands sliding around her waist, his lips pressing into her hair as he whispered about the life they’d escape to together.
We’ll disappear, Aria—just you and me. I promise.
But as her eyes fluttered open, the illusion shattered into shards.
The ceiling soared impossibly high above her, its ornate carvings glimmering with gold leaf. Pale marble columns framed the room like a royal tomb. Every surface gleamed too perfectly, every object in place like a display in a museum — cold, curated, and lifeless.
A silken nightgown draped down her shoulders. She clawed at the fabric, as if she could rip away the past twenty-four hours with it.
I’m sorry. I can’t do this. Richard’s last words flashed in her mind, slicing deeper than any blade Nico could hold to her throat.
A sob clawed its way out of her, sharp and hollow.
The door creaked open.
Nico stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, as if he owned the sun that flooded the room. He wore a dark vest over a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing strong, veiny arms. His hair was slightly tousled, his watch glinting in the morning light.
His eyes found her immediately, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “ Good morning, Mrs. Moretti.”
She flinched at the name, bile rising in her throat. “Don’t call me that,” she snapped, her voice raw from all the words she hadn’t dared to scream.
A flash of amusement, cold and fleeting, flickered across his eyes. “Still fighting. I almost admire it.” “What should I call you then? My muse? My prize? My property?”
She recoiled, wrapping her arms around herself. “ I’m not yours; none of this makes me yours.”
His gaze softened briefly, almost imperceptibly, before hardening again. “ Your name. Your freedom. Your choices. All of them are mine now.”
“Let me go,” she pleaded, her voice breaking into splinters. “You can keep everything — the money, the property. Just let me disappear.”
He clicked his tongue, stepping forward so slowly it felt deliberate, predatory. “Disappear? You were born to be seen. To be mine.”
She shot off the bed, sprinting for the door — but when she burst into the corridor, she froze.
Two guards stood at each end, statues in black suits. Their eyes didn’t move; they regarded her as though she were a painting, already cataloged and caged.
“Going somewhere?” Nico’s voice drifted up behind her, smooth as poison.
She whirled, her hair flying. “You can’t keep me here!”
He tilted his head as though considering a petulant child. “I already have.”
When she lunged toward the stairs, the guards stepped forward in unison, blocking her path with unyielding precision.
“LET ME GO!” Her scream echoed, tearing through the marble hall like a broken violin string.
Nico closed the distance in two strides, seizing her wrist before she could strike the guard. His fingers wrapped so tightly around her bones she felt them grind.
“Enough,” he hissed, his mouth inches from her ear. “You are mine. Every desperate breath, every tear, every shattered dream — mine.”
She wrenched against him, sobbing, her mind screaming Richard’s name.
“Why?” she choked. “Why me? Why do this to me?”
He loosened his grip slightly, studying her tear-streaked face. “Because you’re the only vow I ever wanted to steal,” he said softly, each word slicing her open in places she hadn’t known existed.
Without warning, he dragged her down the hall.
Marble floors blurred beneath her feet, each step echoing like a funeral bell. They entered a sun-drenched atrium so large it swallowed sound. At the far end of an impossibly long dining table sat her mother, her thin hands trembling around a delicate teacup.
Aria’s heart stopped.
“Mama,” she whispered. Her feet carried her forward before her mind caught up.
Her mother looked up, eyes swollen and red, face as pale as moonlight. “Aria… my baby…”
Aria dropped to her knees, gripping her mother’s fragile hands as if they were the last threads tying her to the living world.
“I’m so sorry,” she wept. “I tried to protect you… I tried to run… I—”
Her mother cupped her face weakly, her thumb brushing tears from Aria’s cheek. “No… no, my darling. You did what you had to do. They said… they told me if I didn’t come here, they’d stop my treatments… I thought I was saving you.”
Behind them, Nico stood, his shadow long and inescapable, his arms folded like a god watching supplicants at his feet.
Aria turned, her voice trembling with rage. “You’re a monster.”
He only smiled, a slow, knowing curve of his lips. “Perhaps. But your mother lives. Her care, her safety… all tied to your obedience.”
Her mother began to cry, her thin shoulders shaking. Aria felt her own fury claw at her ribs, burning through the numb fog.
She stood, fists clenched at her sides, her breath ragged.
“You will never truly have me,” she spat.
Nico stepped closer, his presence swallowing her. “You said your vows. You gave yourself to me to save her. Every humiliation is now your payment. Your sacrifice.”
She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist mid-air, twisting until pain shot up her arm.
“Remember this,” he murmured against her ear. “You chose this bargain. You sealed it the moment you opened your mouth at the altar.”
Her mother sobbed behind them. Aria’s free hand reached helplessly, as if she could drag her past self back through time.
Finally, Nico released her.
He turned away, his voice echoing as he walked. “Tomorrow, you begin learning the rules of your new world. You’ll perform as my wife. Smile when commanded. Breathe when allowed. And every time you dream of freedom, remember — I own your future.”
As he vanished down the hallway, Aria sank to the floor, her mother cradling her head against her chest.
She buried her face there, shaking, her body wracked by sobs that sounded like they came from a different person.
Through the haze of grief and betrayal, her mind returned to Paris, to stolen mornings in Richard’s arms, to her unfinished paintings, to her father’s debts she thought she could fix with one final show.
The life she had longed for was gone — vanished behind velvet walls and iron smiles.
But somewhere beneath her despair, a single ember glowed.
One day, she would escape. One day, she would destroy the man who made her his living vow.
Even if she had to become a ghost in the process.
- Writer
