Chapter 5 Chapter Five
Silence stretches between us for a moment as I process what my sister just revealed.
"You didn’t know, did you?" Skylar smirks. "You really bought it when we told you it was because of bankruptcy? Gosh, you’re just so gullible."
"Dad gambled... again?"
"He did. Isn’t he an addict? What, you thought he’d just quit it because you acted on your threat to leave home a few years ago? Your presence holds no value or influence over any of us. In fact, none of us cared after you left."
I draw in a deep breath. This is a lot to take in. I shake my head and say to my sister calmly, pleadingly, "Skylar, please, tell me none of this is true."
"Which part?" she grins mischievously. "The part where we never saw you as family, or that we deliberately sold you to the Mafia?"
I feel my heart twinge.
"Cause you know, both are true. Well, you should know something about your husband, Liora. The dark rumor I told you was circulating around him."
My eyes flicker between Skylar's.
She continues, "He murdered his ex-wife in cold blood after she defied him just once. He put a bullet in her head without remorse. That's the reason no woman wants to get involved with him, nor does any father want to hand over his daughter to a man like him. I told you I had a reason why I couldn't marry him. And I’m not saying this to scare you, but to warn you—be careful, because I know you have a penchant for defiance when it comes to strangers. I'm telling you in advance that this man won't hesitate to put a bullet in your head too if you so much as breathe in the wrong direction when he's having a bad day."
My body shakes. "What?"
"And just so you know, you can't run away now. There's no escape. Before I came out here to join you and Zayn, I tipped off your husband—who's currently on a plane to Russia—that his new wife paid a visit to her ex-boyfriend downtown."
My stomach knots, my heartbeat tearing to shreds.
"As we speak, in just a few minutes, security will flood this place, with the sole order to take you back to where you belong. Your life is officially fucked up, all thanks to me—just what I've always wanted..." she ends with a sinister smirk.
Just as she finishes, the sound of tires screeching and cars pulling to a halt downstairs infiltrates the air. My pulse quickens.
What are the odds that those are Lorenzo's men?
"If I were you, I'd run now—while I still have the chance."
Skylar pulls me from my reverie. I turn to her sharply.
"You, bitch!" I yell, yanking her hair before slamming her face against the door. Bright red fluid immediately trails down her face.
What? You thought I wasn’t going to do anything to this bitch, who just spat her betrayal in my face?
My own sister!
"Arghhh," she screams in horror after realizing what I've done.
I'm about to slam her against the wall again—fucking beat the shit out of her—when a voice stops me.
"Madam, I’ll need you to come with us," the masculine, resolute voice resonates in the air.
I pause in my tracks, Skylar still thrashing against my tight grip on her hair.
"Help! Somebody help!" she cries out desperately.
Tears rush down my cheeks as I turn around to see the high-level security personnel from the gothic mansion earlier—heavy guns in their hands. They swarm the place like they’ve come to apprehend a criminal. Me.
"No, no!" I shake my head, releasing Skylar and retreating a few steps. "I’m not coming with you!" I tell them. "Take her—she’s your boss’s rightful bride. I merely helped her out yesterday."
"Please, madam, don’t push us to resort to violence, because we can and we will. Kindly cooperate and come with us. It’s the boss’s order."
"I said no!" I yell.
I swiftly look around, searching for an escape route. But there’s none in sight. The only way out is through the elevator or the staircase—and both are already flooded with security.
There are so many of them, it’ll be hard to get past.
It’s just dawning on me. Skylar was right—I can’t escape them. At least, not right now.
In my brief moment of vulnerability, I didn’t realize the guards had already approached me until one of them grabbed my arm.
I flinch, fighting against their hold.
Even though I’m no match for their brute strength, I refuse to give up.
"Let me go!" I scream as I thrash like a maniac. But they remain unbothered.
As they drag me past Skylar, I couldn't suppress the urge to spit in her face.
"You will pay for this, Sky. You will pay!" I scream, tears blurring my vision as they drag me toward the elevator, like a reluctant cow about to be slaughtered.
\~~~~~
'This isn't fair,' I mutter to myself, sniffling as I down my fifth—or tenth—shot of vodka. I don't know, I’ve lost count.
But I know there are two empty vodka bottles on the counter. Or maybe four.
I can't even tell, my vision keeps blurring everything into doubles.
I’ve been sitting here, in the wine section of Mr. Sorrentino’s home—I refuse to call that cold-blooded murderer my husband—ever since the guards brought me back several hours ago, against my will.
I’ve tried to escape even after I returned, but that’s when I realized the whole house was on lockdown. More guards and men in black have crammed the entire place.
I’m doomed. And I desperately need help from this trap.
My sister set me up. My family betrayed me. It’s still hard to believe. Still hard to process everything Skylar told me earlier. But it's the truth. I've come to realize that. My parents didn't really like me in the first place, so I believe everything Skylar told me about their awareness.
But how could my own family do this to me? Sell me out to a murderous man—the devil himself.
I did some research to back Skylar's claims after I came back earlier—before the guards confiscated my phone. You see, Skylar wasn’t lying at all; everything she said about Lorenzo murdering his ex-wife is also true.
Remember that woman in the framed picture I couldn't take my eyes off? That’s her. That woman is his late wife. The rumors that he killed her are everywhere on the Internet.
I’m so stupid for not coming across this sooner.
I really wish I didn't return to this city last night. I really wish I never agreed to any of this. But it's too late for regrets. I don't think there’s any way out of this.
I gulp down another shot before slamming the glass against the counter, I’m surprised it doesn’t break. I'm done!
I push off the stool, intending to walk back to my room upstairs. But I feel so dizzy, exhausted, and lazy.
Barely after taking a few staggering steps forward, I fall to the floor, my legs giving out. Poor thing.
I don’t bother getting back up. I’m so exhausted. And what's the point anyway.
I resolved I’d just pass the night here. On the floor.
But then, surprisingly, a figure bends over me before the scent of cedarwood hits my nostrils.
My stomach clenches as I try to make out the imposing figure hovering over me with my blurry gaze.
It’s a man. And he looks muscular and charming. And frightening—as my vision clears—with the glare he's shooting down at me.
My heart skips a beat at recognition, and I hiccup involuntarily. It doesn’t take long for me to realize it’s my custom-made doom.
"How dare you get drunk after the stunt you pulled?" he sneers, inches from my face, his warm, minty breath wafting into my nostrils.
I pfft and roll my eyes, turning my face away from him.
I think he’ll leave, but he doesn’t. Instead, he gathers me in his strong arms, my head lolling against his sturdy chest.
My whole body erupts with goosebumps as I look up at him beneath my lashes, surprised he just carried me.
Wait, how is he even here? Didn’t he say he’d be gone for a few days? How come he's here?
Did he seriously come back just because I tried to run away earlier?
I shudder as I recall the horrifying statement Sky made about him putting a bullet in his wife's brain after she defied him once.
What if that's also my fate right now? Because I did defy his orders not to leave the house.
Panic erupts in my chest, and I struggle against his hold, desperately trying to get down from his arms and run.
He's going to kill me.
The permanent frown etched on his face says it all. He'll do it.
"Let me down," I plead, still fighting against him as he ascends the stairs to my room. "Let me down now!" I demand firmly.
He casts me a fleeting glance, his eyes blazing with wrath, the emotion dripping from him so potent.
My body tenses.
"Please, let me go," I soften my voice. "This is all a misunderstanding. I was never meant to be your bride. Please—"
I cry, the alcohol making me feel even dizzier.
But I catch his response.
"Shut up," he asserts.
His tone is cold—commanding and stern.
My heart slams against my ribcage.
Regardless of that, I continue to thrash against him. "No."
We enter my room, and he carries me over to my bed, placing me down gently.
Despite everything, I still cry. "What are you going to do to me?"
He straightens up, glaring down at me as if he's still deciding. "Didn't I tell you to shut up?"
I shake my head. "Not when my life is at stake. What are you going to do to me? A- Are you going to kill me?" I ask shakily.
His voice drops to a dangerous warning, his eyes devoid of emotion, like the cold monster he's been painted as by everyone. "Shut your mouth, or I'll do it for you."
Still, I shake my head and protest. "I need to know. I need to—"
My words are swallowed when his lips come crashing on mine—enraged, possessive, claiming.
He pries my mouth open, bites my tongue so hard that I groan and thrash in his grip on my shoulders.
He kisses me with blind rage, as if he's punishing me for still speaking after he told me not to. And, illogically, my body heats up at it.
Tears leak from the corners of my eyes as a warm, metallic taste explodes in my mouth.
He swallows the blood, pries his tongue deeper—exploring, ravishing.
He kisses me so hard until I am literally robbed of my breath.
Then, he wrenches his mouth away, straightening up.
I gasp and blink weakly, nibbling at my battered lips as more tears stream down, pooling at my ears.
He stands tall above me, rage still radiating off him.
I think I’ve provoked him, and I dare not say another wor
d if I don't want the same fate as his late wife, whom he murdered!
My heart keeps thudding as the silence between us stretches until he finally speaks.
"Go to sleep. You’ll face your punishment tomorrow."
Then he turns and leaves, leaving my heart in a state of raw trepidation.