Alessandra stumbled into her room, the door clicking shut behind her with a finality that sent a shiver down her spine. The air inside was thick with the scent of roses, a cruel contrast to the suffocating reality caging her in.
Her breaths came in sharp, uneven bursts as she pressed her back against the door, fingers trembling at her sides. The sting on her cheek still lingered, burning like the imprint of her grandfather's control. But it wasn't the pain that made her collapse to the floor.
It was the helplessness.
Tears spilled over her lashes, hot and angry as they slid down her face. She dug her nails into her palms, trying to contain the storm threatening to rip her apart.
Matteo.
She needed him.
With shaking hands, she reached for her phone, barely able to see through the blur of her tears. She tapped his number, the screen lighting up with his name—Matteo Corsini.
The call rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
Her heart pounded.
Pick up. Please, pick up.
But the longer the dial tone stretched, the heavier the weight on her chest grew.
Then—
Voicemail.
Alessandra let out a strangled breath, her pulse roaring in her ears. She ended the call and tried again.
And again.
And again.
Nothing.
Frustration clawed at her insides. Why wasn't he answering? He had to know what was happening by now. His family was here. His brother was here.
Why wasn't he?
A sickening thought slithered into her mind.
What if he knew… and chose to stay away?
"No," she whispered, shaking her head fiercely. He wouldn't. Matteo wasn't like them. He was ruthless, dangerous—but not to her. Never to her.
She called one last time.
This time, the line didn't even ring.
Phone off.
A broken sob tore from her throat as she threw the device onto the bed, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
This couldn't be happening.
She was being sold off like a commodity, and the only man who could stop it was gone.
Alessandra inhaled sharply, forcing herself to think. She couldn't break. Not now. There had to be another way.
Guilia.
Her best friend was the only person who might be able to help.
Swiping up her phone, she found Guilia's contact and pressed call. The first ring barely had time to echo before her best friend's voice filled the line, breathless and frantic.
"Ale?"
The sound of her name almost shattered her resolve. Her lips wobbled as she sucked in a breath. "Guilia," she whispered.
A pause.
Then—"What happened?"
Alessandra squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the phone like a lifeline. "They're forcing me to marry Luca." Her voice cracked, her fingers digging into her palm. "I—I tried to call Matteo, but he won't answer. His phone is off. I don't know where he is."
A sharp inhale on the other end.
"Dio santo," Guilia breathed, her voice tight with disbelief. "They wouldn't dare when it's supposed to be next year—"
"They would," Alessandra cut in, her breath shaky. "They did."
Silence.
It stretched between them like a heavy weight, filled with the unspoken truth they both knew too well.
Leonardo Ricci's word was law.
And no one—not even Guilia—could change that.
"I'll try to find out where Matteo is," Guilia said suddenly, her voice laced with determination. "Maybe someone is keeping him away on purpose."
Hope flickered in Alessandra's chest, fragile but burning.
"Please," she whispered. "I don't know what to do, Guilia."
A heavy sigh. "We both know there's nothing we can do."
Alessandra swallowed, her throat burning. "Then why did you answer?"
A pause. Then, a soft chuckle. "Because I'm your best friend, idiota."
A watery laugh escaped her lips.
"Stay strong," Guilia murmured. "I'll do what I can. But Ale…"
She hesitated.
"…don't put all your hope in Matteo. You know what these men are like."
Alessandra's stomach twisted.
She knew.
And yet—she still believed.
Because she had no other choice.
And also because he said he wanted her.
A knock at the door made her freeze.
She turned, her breath catching in her throat.
The handle twisted.
A second later, her mother stepped inside.
Isabella Ricci was a vision of cold beauty, draped in a silk dress that barely wrinkled as she moved. The dim light cast sharp shadows across her features, highlighting the flawless symmetry of her face—the same face Alessandra had inherited, though hers was now blotched with tears and bruised with her grandfather's wrath.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, Isabella sighed. "You should ice your cheek," she murmured, walking toward the vanity. She picked up a silver hairbrush, running her fingers over its handle absently. "It'll bruise if you don't."
Alessandra clenched her fists. "That's all you have to say?"
Her mother stilled. "What else would you like me to say?"
Alessandra let out a bitter laugh, tears burning the edges of her vision. "You could start with I'm sorry."
Isabella turned then, her gaze sharp. "I'm not."
A lump formed in Alessandra's throat. "You're not sorry that your own daughter is being forced into a marriage she doesn't want?"
"No." Isabella's voice was calm. Unyielding. Unapologetic. "Because this is how it has always been. This is our world, Alessandra. And fighting it will only break you."
Alessandra's nails bit into her palms. "I don't care. I won't marry him."
Her mother sighed again, softer this time. She walked toward her, stopping just a breath away. "You don't have a choice, cara mia." Her fingers reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Alessandra's ear.
The gentle touch was a cruel contrast to the harsh reality of her words.
"You were born into this family," Isabella murmured. "You knew, deep down, that this day would come."
Alessandra's breath shuddered. "Not like this."
Her mother's lips pressed into a thin line. "No one ever gets to choose, Ale."
The words struck her like a dagger to the chest.
Isabella leaned in, lowering her voice. "But if you're smart… you'll find a way to survive."
Alessandra stiffened.
A way to survive.
Not escape.
Not win.
Just… survive.
Her mother studied her for a moment longer, then stepped back. "Get some rest," she murmured, turning for the door. "Tomorrow, we discuss wedding preparations."
The words sent a bolt of fear through Alessandra's spine.
Wedding preparations.
Her fate was being sealed.
And Matteo?
Still nowhere to be found.
As the door clicked shut, Alessandra sank onto the bed, her body trembling.
She reached for her phone again, staring at the dark screen.
And for the first time that night…
She began to wonder if Guilia had been right.
Maybe Matteo wasn't coming.
Maybe she had already lost.