Chapter 15 Abduction
The walls felt like they were closing in, the air stale with the scent of my own tears and regret. I needed to move, to breathe, even if it was just to the garden or the library or anywhere that wasn’t this suffocating room.
I slipped downstairs in the late afternoon when the house was quiet. Dante was gone—Marco had said something about a meeting with suppliers. Sophia’s laughter had echoed from the living room earlier, but now it was silent. Good. I didn’t want to see her face.
I headed for the back patio doors—glass panels overlooking the snow-dusted gardens. Fresh air. Even five minutes outside the house would help.
I was almost there when she stepped out from the hallway shadow.
Sophia.
She looked flawless as always—silk blouse, tailored trousers, hair in loose waves, lips painted deep red. But her smile was gone. Replaced by something colder. Sharper.
“Liliana,” she said sweetly. Too sweetly. “We need to talk.”
I tried to step around her.
She blocked the way—graceful, deliberate.
“Don’t walk away from me,” she said. Voice low now. Dangerous. “You’ve been ignoring everyone like a wounded little girl. It’s pathetic.”
I stopped. Met her gaze. “Move.”
She didn’t.
Instead, she stepped closer—close enough that I could smell her expensive perfume. Jasmine and something sharp, like ambition.
“I know everything,” she said quietly. “Everything you and Dante did that night. He told me.”
My stomach dropped.
“He told you?” The words came out small. Broken.
Sophia’s lips curved. Not a smile. A smirk.
“Oh, honey. He told me every detail. How you begged him. How you cried when he took your virginity. How he had to go slow because you were so tight and inexperienced.” She tilted her head. “Pathetic, really. Throwing yourself at a man who’s been fucking me for years.”
The room spun.
“No,” I whispered. “He wouldn’t—”
“He did.” She leaned in. “He said you were sweet. Innocent. But that’s all you are to him. A novelty. A promise he made to your dead father. He’s tolerating you because Antonio asked him to. Because he feels guilty. But me? I’m the one he comes back to. Always.”
Lies.
They had to be lies.
But the way she said it—so calm, so certain—made doubt crawl under my skin.
“He told me you were clingy,” she continued. “That you thought one night meant something. That he had to pretend to care so you wouldn’t fall apart. Poor little virgin, thinking she could keep a man like Dante.”
My throat closed. I couldn’t breathe.
“He said you were good in bed—enthusiastic, at least—but that it was nothing compared to what we have. He said you’re just… convenient. A responsibility with benefits.”
Each word was a knife. Twisting.
I shook my head. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” She pulled out her phone. Swiped. Held it up.
A photo—Dante and her. Recent. His arm around her waist at some rooftop event. Her head on his shoulder. Caption: Home again with my favorite person 💙
My vision blurred.
“He sent me that last week,” she said softly. “While you were crying in your room. While he was telling you he loved you. He was texting me. Telling me how he couldn’t wait to get back to real life.”
I stared at the photo. The date. The smile on his face.
Something inside me shattered completely.
I turned. Ran.
Past the patio doors. Into the garden. Snow crunched under my boots. Cold air slapped my face.
I didn’t care where I was going. Just away. Away from her voice. Away from the house. Away from him.
The side gate was cracked—someone must have forgotten to lock it after a delivery. I slipped through.
The street outside was quiet. Snow falling in thick flakes. Streetlights glowed orange.
I walked. Fast. Then faster. No destination. Just movement.
Air. I needed air.
My lungs burned. Tears froze on my cheeks.
I turned down a side street—narrow, lined with parked cars. Empty. Peaceful.
Then footsteps behind me.
I spun.
A man in a dark coat. Mask pulled low.
Before I could scream, he was on me.
A white cloth pressed hard over my nose and mouth.
Sweet. Chemical. Chloroform.
I struggled—clawed at his arm, kicked, thrashed.
But the world tilted. Colors bled.
My legs buckled.
Darkness rushed in.
The last thing I saw was snow falling—soft, silent, indifferent.
Then nothing.
When I woke, my head throbbed. Mouth dry. Wrists bound behind my back with zip ties. Ankles tied too. I was on the floor of a van—cold metal, no windows. Engine rumbling.
A man sat across from me—same coat, mask gone now. Italian features. Scar across his cheek. Rossi tattoo on his neck.
He smiled—slow, cruel.
“Welcome back, Caruso girl.”
I didn’t scream. Didn’t beg.
I just stared.
Because in that moment, with my wrists bleeding from the ties and my heart already broken, I realized something terrifying.
I wasn’t scared of them.
I was scared of going back.
Back to the house. Back to Dante. Back to the lies.
Back to loving a man who never truly chose me.
The van kept driving.
Snow kept falling.
And somewhere far behind, I knew Dante would be tearing the city apart looking for me.
But right now?
I didn’t care.
Because the cage had finally broken open.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted to be saved.
That was all I thought before darkness finally took over me..