*Evelyn's POV*
Today is the day I escape prison.
Let me rephrase that properly; today is the day run away from my captor—the man who married me out of sheer spite for my father.
My husband is, although I rather choke on my ego than admit it, a very smart man and so far, the only man who figured out that Lexter Hidalgo's weakness didn't lie In his guns,armour or precious reputation.
It took him one interaction with me to discover how much I meant to my father and before I knew it,we were swearing our forevers to each other in front of a pope.
I was invited to a private charity event and asked to sit in a separate room with six other people–who I later learned was his family members evaluating if I was fit to be his wife.
"The Wedding will be in two weeks."the woman opposite me said abruptly. It was the first thing she said all night and for a moment,I was too entranced with the silk superiority her voice carried to really pay attention to what she said.
"What?"I echoed. "Whose wedding?"
"We are having it in Italy."she continued,unbothered. "Its simply tradition,your father would understand."
I blinked,still arrested by shock,my brain refusing to digest that I might be The bride.
A small card was handed to me and lo and behold,an invitation to my own wedding.
Despite being happily engaged to Luca then,I had married Vincenzo Caesar Moretti exactly two weeks later.
But that's all over now–or at least soon. I have waited too long to be bought back by my father–and yes,that means that my husband had bought me in the first place. I don't know how much it cost him,I preferred not to anyway.I didn't want to crumble my last shreds of dignity on knowing the details of the transaction that took place. I had assumed that my father will buy me back after a week or two,but weeks spilled into months and months to years and it became painstakingly clear that whatever the contents of that deal were—it was impossible for my father to retrieve me.
"Would you like another plate?"a maid asked softly,breezing past me with a basket of fruits.
"No,Its alright,"I said swiftly,adding sugar to my hibiscus brew. "Thank you."
She bows curtly and makes her way out of the dining room.
The house is littered with so many maids,you would think that I was under witness protection.
Not that this was an act of love though,I was sure each one of them were unpaid spies,reporting my every move to him.
But all those are now problems of the past,today I run away with Luca,my—boyfriend.
And before you wrinkle your nose and judge,know that I would never tarnish my reputation by actually cheating on my husband. It's
We reconnected a few months ago and like the loving man he was,he agreed to help me run away.
I throw a jade grape into my mouth and chew, savoring the burst of flavor as a giddy smile creeps onto my face,freedom has never tasted so sweet.
Vivian,my personal maid,storms into the room and her sharp eye catches my joyous expression.
"This trip must really be something special," she declared, her hand busy with cleaning the table.. "I haven't seen you grinning this hard for a trip before."
I lean back and smile knowingly,my finger goes to my rosary and I say a quick prayer.I wish I could tell her that this would be the last time she would serve me. She has been the nicest maid to me so far, but I know better than to trust someone Vincenzo put in charge of me.
People who work for the mafia are like their extended family and would bleed to death before betraying their bosses. Vivian may tolerate me, but if she hears a whisper of my plans, she will happily serve my head on a silver platter. And not to mention what she would do if she knew Luca was a detective.
It's a messy choice, I know, and you are free to judge on that one.
"Bali has always been a welcoming stay," I say finally, glancing out the window. "I've been looking for a change of environment for quite a while. It will be…liberating."
Vivian shrugs nonchalantly, her hands moving in swift motion as she cleared the table.
"Just be back by next week Wednesday."
"Wednesday?" I asked in confusion.
"Yes...your anniversary?"
She stares blankly at me as though she is shocked and offended I didnt remember,she likes to act like she's a simple caretaker of a happy home and always reminds me of random events like these. I don't know if it's delusion or how she was programmed to act, but it infuriates me sometimes.
"Okay then," I reply, biting down on my sarcasm. "I'll also get a present for my dear husband."
She smiles. "You should."
I rolled my eyes and made my way up tp my room upstairs, pushing both doors open as I take in my luxurious prison. I may despise every inch, but it's not a shabby house. In fact, this house was on my Christmas wishlist, and it would have held better memories if he hadn't given it to me as a wedding gift.
I walk to the bathroom, strip myself bare, and turn the faucet to the icy cold shower.
I shut my eyes for a while,sadistically enjoying the calm and peace. Just a few more hours, and I'll be on a one-way flight to Spain. From there, I'll contact my father and tell him everything. He'll probably have to pay a hefty fine for my offense, but it won't matter as long as he knows I'm safe.
After that, I'll lay low with Luca for a while, maybe marry or pray that Vincenzo doesn't care enough to chase me.
Sometimes the exploding excitement feels more like dread, like some eerie foreshadowing that everything will go horribly wrong and my life will never be the same again.
But I push away those thoughts as quickly as they come. This is a big risky move, and I'm expected to feel this way…everything will be fine.
I step out of the shower, the cold clinging to my skin as I pull on a silk robe, knotting it loosely at my waist. I hum the soft tune of "Swan Lake" to ease my racing mind and walk into my closet, ready to pack the last few things.
"I heard you were going for a trip."
The very blood in my body turns rigid and I cant move.
That cant be him-right?
But that voice had so much significance in my mind that I could recognise it even if it was muffled.
"Vincenzo—" I turn, my eyes raising to his face,still hoping it's just a nightmare.
Vincenzo stands tall in the corner, his dark broad frame leaning casually against the shelf, his eyes focused on the paper in his hands—my plane ticket. His thick dark brows arch into their usual eternal frown as his gloved thumb brushes over the print as if testing its authenticity.
"I heard you were going for a trip."he repeats,monotonous. I don't think I've ever heard him show any more emotion than complete uninterest.
My throat tightens. Of all the scenarios of what could go wrong in my head, none of them included Vincenzo here.
But here he is, dangerously close to my phone lying lazily on the dresser—the phone with everything about my escape. Every detail. Every contact. Luca.
I swallow the scream lodged in my chest, fighting to keep my composure.
"Well," I give a second attempt at speech, but my voice is more breathless than I intended. I scoop my hair away from my face. "What are you doing here?"
He doesn't look at me immediately, still staring at the ticket. When his gaze finally meets mine, it's like ice. His eyes are suspiciously clear, like an alert wolf.
"Evangeline."My name rolls off his tongue perfectly,like it had been there several times. He takes a step toward me, and my pulse quickens. "Another trip to Bali?"
I nod slowly, trying to mask the panic bubbling beneath the surface.
"Yes,its just a short getaway." My eyes flick nervously to the phone again. One wrong move, and he could pick it up, see everything.
He moves closer, and I can feel the heat of his body even through the cold detachment in his eyes. His crisp scent seeps into my nose and throws me off guard for a second, a musky undertone of rich leather,mint,cypress, and something else I can't quite place.
"Alone?" he asks, his tone casual—almost friendly—but I know better. It's the kind of voice that sends people happily to hell.
"Of course," I say hoarsely, my fingers tightening on the belt of my robe. I force myself to meet his gaze, even though every instinct is screaming at me to cave at his feet and beg for mercy.
He glances at the phone, then back at me. "You seem nervous."
I force a laugh, brittle and thin. "Why would I be nervous? I'm surprised to see you. That's a very natural reaction considering you're never here."
He stands still, watching me. In an effort to mask my fear, I keep our gaze locked.
He is far taller than me, with a chiseled jawline, jet-black hair, a set of eyelashes that were a testament to his Italian genes and an intimidating wrinkle in his straight greek nose.
I try to keep my breathing steady, but his proximity is suffocating. He's close enough to touch my phone—or, worse, me. My fingers twitch, aching to grab it first, but I know he's watching.
Instead, I snatch the ticket from his hand and walk past him smoothly. I needed to get away from his condescending height, his eyes, his scent–
"I hope this curiosity in my affairs is just an experiment," I say smoothly, readjusting my belt for maximum caution.
I may have a robe on, but his eyes make me feel as if it's transparent, and my cheeks flush red.
Luca, I remind myself sternly, Ipulling open a drawer to retrieve some underwear to mentally salvage my dignity.
I feel his presence before I hear him.
"You won't be going to Bali."
My shoulders tense, and I turn to him over my shoulder.
"Is my father aware that I'm no longer allowed the right to go on trips?"
He blinks.
"Evangeline,your father is dead."