Chapter 16 -
The sun had dipped below the horizon hours ago, leaving Nia's room bathed in the soft glow of the chandelier overhead. She sat cross-legged on the enormous bed, her yellow floral dress fanned out around her like petals, staring at the door with a mixture of resentment and restlessness. The mansion had fallen into its evening rhythm—distant footsteps echoing through corridors, muffled voices from somewhere below, the occasional clink of silverware being cleared away.
She was picking at a loose thread on the bedspread when a sharp knock broke the silence.
Nia's head snapped up. Her heart did that annoying little skip it always did when she thought it might be Leo coming to deliver another round of thinly veiled threats. But the knock came again, lighter this time, almost hesitant. Definitely not Leo. He would have just walked in like he owned the place—which, technically, he did.
"Who is it?" she called out, her voice carrying more suspicion than necessary.
Before she could get an answer, the door handle turned. Matteo's broad frame filled the doorway, his expression as stiff and professional as ever.
"Ma'am," he said, addressing someone behind him, "the boss said no visitors without his permission."
Nia leaned forward, craning her neck to see who was trying to get in. A flash of crimson fabric appeared at the edge of the doorframe, followed by a sharp, impatient voice.
"I don't care what Leonardo said."
Nia's eyes widened. Lucia.
The red-haired woman pushed past Matteo with the kind of effortless authority that came from years of dealing with stubborn men. She swept into the room like a storm, her crimson dress trailing behind her, and Matteo barely had time to step aside before she was already inside.
"Ma'am, I really cannot allow—"
"Then don't," Lucia cut him off without even looking back. "Close the door on your way out, Matteo. And if my brother-in-law asks, tell him I was checking on the prisoner. He'll understand."
Matteo's jaw tightened, his eyes flicking to Nia as if she might have some say in the matter. She just shrugged helplessly. What was she supposed to do? Kick Lucia out? She was not about to get on the bad side of the only woman in this madhouse who seemed remotely human.
With a resigned sigh, Matteo stepped back into the hallway. "I'll be right outside," he said, his tone making it clear he was not happy about this.
Lucia waited until the door clicked shut before turning to face Nia fully. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Nia studied her, taking in the tired lines around her amber eyes, the tension in her jaw, the way she held herself like she was bracing for a blow.
"Well," Nia said finally, breaking the silence, "this is unexpected."
Lucia's lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I imagine it is." She moved further into the room, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor, and stopped near the window. Her gaze drifted to the sprawling grounds outside, dark and still under the moonlight.
Nia shifted on the bed, folding her hands in her lap. "If you're here to interrogate me or something, I have to warn you—I'm fresh out of useful information. Your brother-in-law already made that pretty clear this morning."
"I'm not here to interrogate you," Lucia said quietly, still looking out the window. "I'm here to thank you."
Nia blinked. "Thank me? For what?"
Lucia turned then, her amber eyes locking onto Nia's hazel ones. "For protecting Gabriel this morning."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with sincerity. Nia felt her chest tighten unexpectedly. She had not thought much about what she did—it had been instinct, pure and simple. Gaby had been scared, and she had wanted to help him. That was all.
"He was scared," Nia said softly, her voice losing some of its earlier edge. "Anyone would have done the same."
"No." Lucia shook her head, her expression hardening. "Not anyone."
There was a weight to those words, a sadness that made Nia's stomach twist. She wanted to ask what Lucia meant, but something in the other woman's face told her to wait.
Lucia crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough that Nia could see the faint freckles dusting her pale skin, the tiny scar just above her left eyebrow. She looked exhausted, like she had been carrying the world on her shoulders for far too long.
"Gabriel doesn't have many people who care about him," Lucia said quietly, her hands folding in her lap. "His father barely acknowledges him unless it's to criticize. The Don... well, he loves Gaby in his own way, but he's not exactly warm. And me?" She let out a bitter laugh. "I do my best, but sometimes I wonder if I'm enough."
Nia felt something crack inside her chest. She thought of little Gaby, with his wide hazel eyes and his nervous smile, hiding in her closet because he was too scared to face his parents' screaming match. No child should have to grow up like that.
"You're more than enough," Nia said firmly. "He adores you. I could see it this morning."
Lucia's eyes glistened, and she looked away quickly, blinking hard. "Thank you," she whispered. "You have no idea how much that means."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken things pressing down on them. Nia found herself liking Lucia more than she expected. There was a strength in her, a resilience that reminded Nia of herself.
"Why are you really here?" Nia asked gently. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I appreciate the gratitude and all, but something tells me there's more to it than that."
Lucia let out a long breath, her shoulders sagging. "You're perceptive," she said with a faint smile. "I suppose I came here because... because I needed to talk to someone who isn't part of this family. Someone who isn't trapped by the same chains I am."
Nia frowned. "What do you mean?"
Lucia looked at her then, really looked at her, and Nia saw something raw and vulnerable in her gaze. "We're both prisoners here," she said softly. "Just different cages."
The words hit Nia like a punch to the gut. She had been so focused on her own situation—on Leo and his threats, on Alex and the mess he had left behind—that she had not stopped to think about what Lucia's life must be like. Married to a man who barely spoke to her, stuck in a mansion ruled by her overbearing father, unable to leave even if she wanted to.
"You're married," Nia said carefully. "You have a son. That's... different from being kidnapped and held hostage."
"Is it?" Lucia's laugh was hollow. "The Don decided Christian and I would marry. I didn't get a say in it. Gabriel was born before the wedding, and my father used that as leverage to force Christian to agree. He said it was for the family, for the Cimmera, for tradition. But really?" She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It was about control. It always is with him."
Nia's throat tightened. "Why doesn't Christian let you go if you're both so miserable?"
Lucia's smile was bitter, edged with something sharp and painful. "Because I'm his possession. In his mind, I belong to him. And the Don? He'll kill any judge who tries to grant us a divorce. He said so himself."
Nia stared at her, horrified. "That's... that's insane."
"Welcome to the Cimmera," Lucia said dryly. "Where tradition trumps happiness, and women are bargaining chips in power games."
Nia felt a surge of anger on Lucia's behalf. This was not right. None of this was right. And yet, here they were, two women trapped in a world they had not chosen, struggling to survive in their own ways.
"I'm sorry," Nia said quietly. "You don't deserve that."
Lucia's expression softened. "Neither do you."
They sat together in the quiet, and for the first time since she had been taken, Nia felt a flicker of something that almost resembled hope. Maybe she was not as alone as she thought. Maybe, in this twisted mansion full of dangerous men and deadly secrets, she had found an ally.
"Why did you really come here tonight?" Nia asked again, softer this time.
Lucia hesitated, her fingers twisting the fabric of her dress. "Because I saw the way you stood up to Leonardo this morning. The way you didn't back down, even when he threatened you. And I thought..." She trailed off, her voice catching. "I thought maybe you could teach me how to do that."