Chapter 2 2

The mansion was as silent as it was grand. Emilia's heels clicked softly on the polished marble floors, each step echoing in the cavernous hallway like a reluctant countdown. She didn't know what Alessandro wanted this time, only that he'd sent for her-a message curtly delivered through the house staff. In the two months since their marriage, his summoning her had become almost routine, a twisted dance where she was pulled close and then cast aside.

She finally reached the study door and paused, her hand hovering just over the handle, steeling herself. Every encounter with Alex left her with a lingering bitterness, a reminder that this wasn't a life she'd chosen but rather one she'd been forced into.

"Come in." His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence before she could knock.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside, finding him at his desk, engrossed in a stack of papers. He didn't look up, didn't acknowledge her presence beyond that single command. The room was dimly lit, a shadowed sanctuary filled with leather-bound books and imposing wooden furniture, all too rich and dark, like the man seated behind the desk.

She swallowed. "You wanted to see me?"

There was a long pause before he answered, still not lifting his gaze. "I don't recall asking for hesitation, Emilia."

A flicker of defiance sparked within her, but she quickly suppressed it. "I'm here now. What do you need?"

At that, he finally looked up, his gaze cold and assessing. "I need you to remember your place."

Her stomach clenched at the low, controlled tone he used. She had learned quickly that, with Alex, silence could hold as much venom as words.

"I haven't forgotten," she replied, keeping her tone steady.

"Really?" He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands with a faint smirk. "Because it seems to me you're rather... comfortable in this arrangement."

Emilia felt her cheeks flush, anger mixing with the humiliation he so often seemed determined to provoke. "You're the one who forced this arrangement on me."

"Did I?" He raised an eyebrow. "I don't recall putting a gun to your head, Emilia."

"Maybe not, but I didn't have a choice. You made that clear," she shot back, her voice trembling just enough to give her anger away.

His gaze sharpened, a spark of something darker flickering in his eyes. He leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk. "You're here to fulfill an obligation. Nothing more."

"I know that," she replied, her tone tight. "Believe me, I'm under no illusions."

The silence that followed was taut, an unspoken challenge hanging between them. She held his gaze, refusing to look away, despite the way her heart hammered in her chest.

Finally, he gave a slight nod, as if conceding a point. "Then you'll be ready tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?"

"Yes," he said, his tone dismissive. "There's a gala at my grandfather's estate. Naturally, you'll accompany me."

Emilia's lips parted in surprise. He'd barely let her attend any public events with him, keeping her hidden away like some shameful secret. The thought of facing his family, his world, felt daunting-and yet, a small part of her felt the stirrings of relief. An opportunity to escape the stifling isolation of this mansion, even if only for a night.

But as she met his gaze, the faint hope dwindled. His eyes held no warmth, no hint of kindness. She was being paraded, not introduced.

"Fine," she said, the word falling flat. "I'll be ready."

"See that you are," he replied, turning back to his papers as though the conversation were already over.

She stood there for a moment, waiting, hoping for something-some sign of acknowledgment, a hint of anything beyond his cold, clinical indifference. But he remained focused on his work, his silence pressing down on her until she finally turned to leave.

"Emilia." His voice stopped her just as she reached the door. She turned back, her heart catching in her throat.

"Wear something appropriate," he said, his tone as dismissive as ever. "I won't have my wife embarrassing me in front of my family."

A flare of indignation shot through her, but she kept her expression neutral. "I wouldn't dream of it," she replied, her voice a shade colder than she'd intended.

He didn't answer, already absorbed back in his work, as though her presence had been nothing more than a brief distraction.

Turning, she left the study, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts as she walked down the empty hallway. She should have known better than to expect anything different, but the pain of his disdain still cut deep, the weight of her situation settling heavily on her shoulders.

Lost in thought, she didn't notice the figure leaning against the wall near the grand staircase until a voice broke the silence.

"Ah, Emilia." Vanessa's voice was smooth, laced with a mocking sweetness. "Having a little chat with your dear husband, were you?"

Emilia's head snapped up, her pulse quickening as she met Vanessa's gaze. The other woman's expression was smug, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes as she took in Emilia's flushed face and tense posture.

"What are you doing here?" Emilia asked, keeping her voice steady.

"Oh, just... visiting," Vanessa replied, her tone light but her eyes cold. "Alex and I have some business to discuss, as usual."

Emilia's jaw tightened, but she refused to give Vanessa the satisfaction of a reaction. "I see."

Vanessa's smile widened, her gaze trailing over Emilia's simple dress with thinly veiled contempt. "You know, he's not used to... plainness. It must be quite an adjustment for him."

Emilia clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She forced herself to hold Vanessa's gaze, refusing to let her words sting. "I suppose he finds his amusements where he can."

Vanessa's eyes narrowed, the playful glint fading to something sharper. "Careful, Emilia. Alex may tolerate your presence, but don't think for a moment he considers you anything more than a necessary inconvenience."

"And yet," Emilia replied, her voice steady, "I'm still the one he married."

Vanessa's expression darkened, and for a brief, satisfying moment, Emilia saw a flicker of anger behind the other woman's poised facade. But then Vanessa laughed, a sound as cold as it was cruel.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," she said, her voice dripping with malice. "Alex may play the dutiful husband for now, but sooner or later, he'll tire of this little arrangement. And when he does, don't expect any sympathy from me."

Emilia held her ground, her pulse hammering as she met Vanessa's gaze. "I wouldn't dream of it."

With one last, scathing look, Vanessa turned and strode down the hallway, her heels clicking against the marble with an air of finality.

Emilia watched her go, the woman's words echoing in her mind, each one a reminder of the precarious, humiliating situation she'd been forced into. Her fists relaxed slowly, and she took a shaky breath, struggling to calm the storm of emotions Vanessa had so effortlessly stirred up.

The truth was, Vanessa was right. This marriage was a charade, a temporary arrangement forced on both of them by circumstances beyond their control. But that knowledge didn't make it any easier to endure the constant reminders of Alex's contempt, or the humiliating awareness that she was little more than an obstacle in the life he truly wanted.

And yet, as she turned and made her way back to her room, she felt a spark of resolve flicker to life within her. She might be trapped, powerless to change the terms of this twisted marriage, but she wouldn't let them break her. Not Alex, not Vanessa, not anyone.

One way or another, she would find a way to survive this.