Chapter Two - Final Terms
990 Words
No one asks me if I want water.
That’s the first thing I noticed.
Saverio Bardi walks into the apartment, and everything seems to change around him. My stepfather straightens his back. My mother tightens up. Camille falls silent, like people do when they’re near something that could hurt them.
I stay still.
I've been frozen in place since the door opened, my heart pounding so loudly that I think everyone can hear it. Saverio takes his time. He shuts the door behind him with a calmness that feels deliberate; the sound is quiet but final.
A man like him doesn’t need to make noise.
He looks at Henri first.
“You were instructed to get her ready,” he says.
His voice isn’t loud. It doesn’t need to be. It fills the room like smoke, heavy and hard to breathe in.
Henri clears his throat. “She’s… emotional.”
Saverio’s gaze moves towards me.
Slowly. Carefully. Like a doctor examining a patient.
His eyes don’t focus on my face, they take in my posture, tension, and breathing. As if I’m a problem that needs fixing, not someone who needs understanding.
“She’ll adapt,” he says.
Something inside me breaks.
“I won’t.”
The word slips out before fear can hold it back. Camille gasps. My mother flinches.
Saverio finally steps closer.
The space between us shrinks in three steady steps. He has a light scent of leather and rain, with something sharp mixed in. It’s not cologne; it feels more genuine.
“Repeat that,” he asks.
I raise my chin, even though my knees feel weak. “I won’t marry you.”
Silence fills the air.
Then, a grin.
It’s not kind nor funny.
It’s curious.
“You don’t have the right to refuse,” he says calmly. “You were collateral. This marriage clears the debt.”
“I didn’t agree to this.”
“No,” he replies. “You didn’t.”
That’s all he says. No apology, no reasons given.
My hands ball into fists. “I’m not an object.”
Saverio tilts his head slightly, studying me like
I’m a new element in a math problem. “In my world,” he explains, “everyone is something.”
My stomach churns.
Henri shifts behind him. “Saverio, maybe we should…”
Saverio raises one finger.
Henri goes silent.
That simple action holds more power than any shout could. I watch as authority moves effortlessly, and a heavyweight settles in my chest.
"This is not up for negotiation."
Saverio turns to face me, his expression unyielding. "You will sign the documents tonight."
"No," I reply firmly.
"You will," he insists.
"I won't."
His gaze sharpens, and the earlier intrigue dissipates.
"Your stepfather's debt does not vanish simply because you choose to be brave," he explains coldly. "It multiplies. Interest builds up. Consequences are inevitable."
A wave of nausea washes over me. "So what? You plan to intimidate me until I give in?"
"I don't intimidate," he counters. "I inform."
With a subtle gesture, two men I hadn't noticed before positioned themselves by the doorway.
My heart races.
"You're leaving tonight," Saverio states with finality. "With me. Otherwise, your family will face the repercussions."
I glance at my mother, hoping for support, but she avoids my gaze completely.
Camille watches me intently, her satisfaction barely hidden beneath her calm exterior.
Henri doesn't look my way at all.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut: they won’t rescue me; they have already betrayed me.
"Give me time," I plead softly. "Just one day."
Saverio pauses for a moment, considering my request.
"No."
I swallowed hard, desperation creeping into my voice. "Please."
That single word feels strange in my tongue; it's not something I use often.
A flicker of something crosses his eyes, sympathy or mercy, but calculation.
"You'll have one hour," he concedes. "Pack what you need."
An hour to dismantle everything I knew.
Saverio turns toward the door as if our conversation has already concluded, but then stops short.
"Wear black tomorrow," he adds casually. "You'll meet my lawyer in the morning."
Tomorrow!? A marriage?? Just like that!!
The door clicks shut behind him, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake.
Without thinking, I began to pack. My hands move almost automatically; clothes, important documents, and a hidden photo of my father tucked away in the back of a drawer.
I refuse to cry. There’s no room for tears in a world that has already defined my value.
Camille leans casually against the doorway, her tone light as she speaks. “You should be grateful. Most girls don’t get to marry men like him.”
I avoid her gaze and reply, “You orchestrated this.”
She merely shrugs, unbothered. “You were convenient.”
The urge to scream simmers just beneath the surface, but I swallow it down; anger requires energy I cannot afford right now. What I need is clarity.
When the knock finally comes, I am ready.
This time, Saverio doesn’t step inside. Instead, he waits in the corridor as if he owns the entire building which, in many ways, he does.
I brush past him without uttering a word.
His driver opens the car door for me.
As I settle into the plush leather seat, Saverio follows suit and closes the door behind us.
The car begins to move.
City lights streak by outside the window, and my reflection stares back at me, pale and rigid, with eyes too sharp for someone feeling so powerless.
Saverio remains silent.
So do I.
Yet the silence between us is anything but empty; it crackles with tension.
I have no clear idea of what kind of wife I’m supposed to be.
But one thing is painfully clear:
This man is not my savior.
He is the storm that fate has thrust upon me.
And I am determined to weather it.
- Writer
