VILLA OF THORNS

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The private jet had landed just after midnight. She hadn't slept. Not on the flight. Not in the blacked-out town car that waited on the tarmac. Not when the iron gates of her family's estate opened without a word.

The butler hadn't even looked at her.

Now, standing inside the great marble foyer of her childhood home, Katie felt like she was fifteen again—having been caught sneaking out, except this time, the whole world had watched her fall.

The heavy double doors creaked as they opened.

Her father stood at the top of the stairs. Charles Amari. CEO. Tycoon. Kingmaker. And currently, the man whose jaw was set in stone.

"Katherine."

His voice echoed down like a gavel.

She straightened instinctively. "Father."

He descended one step at a time. No warmth. No pause. Only cold calculation in every movement.

"The tabloids."

"I didn't leak it—"

"But you lived it."

His words sliced. "Did you think our name wouldn't be dragged through the filth with yours?"

Her mouth opened, but he didn't stop.

"The Arygos are powerful. And now, the media calls you a mistress. You've made yourself a liability. Do you understand what that means?"

"I didn't plan it. It just—"

He turned sharply, eyes flaring. "You shamed your family, Katherine. You humiliated yourself and destroyed a twenty-year friendship in the process."

Her throat tightened. Her fingers dug into the sleeves of her sweater.

"I've already spoken to your firm," her father went on. "They're proceeding with the suspension. We will not intervene. You will stay here until this blows over. No press. No calls. No Yannis."

Her heart stuttered. "He didn't—he didn't abandon me. He tried to—"

"You will not speak his name in this house."

Tears welled at the edges of her lashes, but she refused to let them fall.

"Katie."

The voice behind her was softer. Warmer.

Her mother.

Isabelle Arygos descended the opposite wing's staircase in a pale robe and slippers. Her expression was gentle, her eyes red-rimmed but filled with sympathy. She came to Katie's side, wrapping her arms around her shoulders before Charles could say another word.

"She's exhausted, Charles," Isabelle said, firmly. "She doesn't need punishment. She needs rest. And grace."

Charles scoffed. "She doesn't need coddling. She needs to remember who she is."

"I know who I am," Katie said softly. "And I'm sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen."

Her mother stroked her hair. "Go upstairs, darling. I'll bring you something warm."

Katie turned, numb. Her feet carried her up the stairs, past portraits of ancestors who'd likely be rolling in their graves. Her old room was just as she'd left it—too pristine, too sterile. Not a single trace of the woman she had become.

She closed the door behind her and sank into the bed, curling up like she used to when her father's voice echoed down the halls. Katie let the tears fall freely.

⸻

Dinner was silent.

Too silent.

Even the silverware clinking against porcelain sounded like a warning. The kind of stillness that came before a bomb dropped—or a life shattered.

Katie sat across from her parents at the long mahogany dining table, untouched soup growing cold in front of her. Her mother gave her reassuring glances every now and then, as if she sensed the storm brewing in her husband's throat. But Katie already knew something was wrong.

She could feel it in the tight way her father held his wine glass. In the forced way he said nothing at all.

And then, he spoke.

"We've arranged a meeting with the Castellanos family."

Katie blinked. "What?"

Charles Amari didn't even flinch. "You'll be dining with their son, Alessandro, next week. The engagement announcement will follow shortly after."

The silence that followed wasn't quiet—it was violent.

Katie laughed. A short, bitter sound. "I'm sorry—what?"

Her father didn't blink. "Alessandro is powerful. Ruthless. His father and I have worked together for over two decades. A merger between families would silence the scandal and show the press you are not some discarded mistress—but a woman desired by a dynasty."

Katie's blood ran cold.

"You want me to marry Alessandro Castellanos?"

"He's a man, not a punishment," Charles said, tone clipped.

"He's a monster."

"He's the solution."

Her voice rose before she could stop it. "He's arrogant, cold, and thinks women are accessories. I'd rather die."

Charles stood suddenly, his chair scraping back with a screech. "Then perhaps you should've thought about that before throwing yourself into your best friend's fiancé's bed!"

Her mother gasped. "Charles! How can you say such a horrible thing to your own daughter?!"

But Katie didn't flinch.

She rose to her feet, every part of her trembling with fury.

"I made a mistake. I admit that. But I will not make another by tying myself to someone who treats people like property."

"You'll do what your family requires," her father snapped. "You're not here to indulge your feelings—you're here to restore your name."

"By selling me off like a pawn?"

"This is business, Katherine."

"No," she said, her voice icy now. "This is control."

Her mother stood, gently placing a hand on her arm. "Katie—"

Katie pulled away, eyes blazing. "If you make me marry that man, you'll lose me forever."

"You lost yourself the moment you crawled into Yiannis bed."

The words hung in the air like smoke.

Katie's eyes burned, but she wouldn't let him see her cry. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Without another word, she turned and walked away, her steps echoing through the mansion like cannon fire. She didn't stop until she was upstairs, behind the safety of her bedroom door.

And once again, she sank onto the bed, the weight of expectation and betrayal crashing down on her chest.

But this time, the tears didn't fall.

Because somewhere in her soul, a spark had lit.

And it wasn't shame or regret anymore—it was rage.