Chapter 27: Veins of Fire.

Chapter 27: Veins of Fire.
Truth in flames, the door clicked shut with finality behind Enzo. Sherry stood frozen as she sat on the bed, staring at Enzo, who was asking her a question. The audio message from Victoria still echoes in her mind, that chilling voice, the venomous purr: "You're not safe. You never were."
There come footsteps, heavy and controlled. Enzo's silhouette loomed as he strode toward her, jacket flung aside, his white shirt rolled at the forearms, hair mussed like he'd run his fingers through it in frustration. His jaw was clenched tight.
"You left the hospital barely able to stand," he growled. "And yet you went snooping around the penthouse like a damn spy."
Sherry's voice was dry. "I didn't need to snoop. I just listened."
"To what?" He stepped closer. "What exactly did you hear, Sherry?"
"Something about an orphanage deal." Her tone cracked with exhaustion and fury. "And a photo sent to me of myself unconscious in a hospital bed. I don't need to be a genius to know I'm being used."
Enzo's eyes flickered with something darker than anger. "You think I would hurt you?"
"I don't know what to think anymore!" Her hands trembled as she shoved her phone into his chest. "Why would Victoria have this? Why would someone email me this if there wasn't something to hide?"
Enzo stared at the image on the screen, his expression unreadable. "Delete that."
"You didn't deny it." Her voice wavered. "You didn't say it was fake."
"Because it's not," he whispered. "But it wasn't meant for you. None of this was."
"You mean the truth?"
"No." His voice lowered, a blade cloaked in velvet. "I mean the pain."
They stood there, inches apart, silence throbbing with everything unspoken- betrayal, fear, desire, and guilt. Sherry felt her lungs collapse under the weight of it.
"I want honesty, Enzo," she hissed. "Real honesty."
He turned as if to walk away, but she grabbed his wrist. "No. Not this time. You don't get to shut me out."
His gaze dropped to where her fingers gripped him. Then, it slowly lifted. "You're playing with fire."
"Then burn me."
Enzo yanked her roughly into his arms the instant words spilled out from her lips. Their lips smashed together roughly in a savage kiss that left both of them reeling, utterly breathless afterward.
It lacked softness entirely and felt rather harsh underneath.
Rage and grief swirled together with lust in a tumultuous battle of wills amidst a desperate cry for meaning.
His hands were everywhere, tearing through the silk robe. She hadn't even realized she was still wearing it, her bare skin exposed under the morning light streaming through the window.
Sherry's fingers clawed frantically at his shirt, pulling it open with sheer, unadulterated desperation amidst utter chaos.
Buttons were strewn haphazardly across the floorboards like shattered vows. He shoved her hard against a wall, and cold glass dug viciously into her back, but she didn't seem to mind.
She kisses him harder, tasting fire, and lies with reckless abandon and primal need. Clothes lay strewn about as hearts crashed together violently in a chaotic storm; neither one could halt suddenly on the cold floor.
His lips on her throat. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Her nails raking down his back. He filled her in one powerful thrust, and she gasped, not from pain but from the undeniable reality of him.
The pace was unforgiving. Wild. Chaotic.
Sherry arched beneath him, her hands tangled in his hair. "Tell me the truth."
Enzo kissed her collarbone, his breath hot and harsh. "This is the truth."
"No."
He thrust deeper. "You want to know what's real, Sherry? This. You and me. The rest is war."
They came together, tremors racking through them. But the moment it ended, the silence roared louder than ever.
He stood first, chest heaving; he left the room and walked down to the kitchen without a word.
Sherry lay still, the cold air biting at her skin, the truth colder still.
Sophie arrives at Enzo's penthouse.
By afternoon, Enzo was gone.
Sherry sat on the balcony, legs tucked under her, wrapped in a thick sweater, and staring at the Manhattan skyline like it held the answers she couldn't find inside herself.
The elevator chimed.
She turned, just in time to see Sophie step in, face tight with worry, arms already reaching out.
"Oh my God, Sherry. You look like hell."
"Thanks," she said dryly, hugging her. "Good to see you too."
Sophie stepped inside, carrying a tote bag filled with what looked like pastries and lemon water. "Bribery," she explained. "And support."
They settled in the sunken living room, knees brushing, Sherry finally letting her guard down.
"I need to tell you everything."
And she did, pouring it out in pieces: Victoria's message. The hospital video and photos. The overheard call. The confrontation. The sex. The silence after.
Sophie listened, eyes narrowing at the right places, fingers tightening around her teacup.
"That man's world was on fire before you," she finally said. "You just walked barefoot."
Sherry's lips trembled. "Should I leave him?"
Sophie exhaled slowly and was unsure. "Not yet. You haven't seen the whole board game."
Hints of treachery. Evening settled like a bruise across the sky.
Sherry was alone again. She stood by the kitchen island, replaying Sophie's words, when her phone vibrated.
New Email: "From: Unknown | Subject: Truth"
She opened it. No message body. Just a PDF attachment.
Her heart was pounding heavily; she opened it and froze.
A business contract.
Blackwood Industry.
Signed and dated in the morning, she was in the hospital before Enzo even told her about the plan to be his fiancée.
With a third-party media group. Deliverables included an "enhancement of public trust and image" via a "strategic relationship with public figure Sherry Hart."
Her name. In a legal deal. Before Enzo even proposed.
Sophie, still in the guest room, came running when she heard Sherry cry out.
Together, they examined it, eyes scanning line by line.
Sherry whispered, voice cracking, "I know I wasn't his real wife. But I did see it going this far. I am his asset."
The red room. It was nearly midnight when the penthouse doors opened again.
Enzo returned, unbothered by the silence, until he noticed Sherry standing at the top of the stairs in a black satin robe, her expression unreadable.
He stalked forward. "What did you and Sophie talk about?"
Sherry's voice was razor-sharp. "The truth. Something you seem allergic to."
"Be careful," he warned, stepping closer. "You're getting reckless."
"No. I'm getting free."
He stared at her for a long moment. Then, without another word, she turned and walked toward a hall she had never entered.
She hesitated. He looked over his shoulder.
"Follow me."
Down a narrow hall. Past a biometric lock. He placed his thumb on a hidden panel. A door slid open with a hiss.
Red lights bathed the room.
It wasn't violent. But it was... otherworldly. Velvet walls. Leather straps. Transparent glass panels. Mirrors. A chaise longue. A small table with... implements.
Sherry froze.
Enzo turned to face her. "If you want answers," he said softly, "you'll have to survive my truth first." He stepped back. The door clicked shut nd locked.