Chapter 5 5

Emilia felt the chill settle deep inside her as she stood in the corner, clutching the empty champagne flute. The brief encounter with Alessandro had left her shaken, every interaction with him like walking through a maze of thorns. It felt impossible to navigate without being cut, and yet there was something about him that seemed almost... fractured. She could sense it in the way his gaze would soften for a fleeting moment before the hard edges returned, in the way he gripped her hand with just enough pressure to remind her that he could break her spirit if he chose.

Across the room, Vanessa moved gracefully, her presence magnetic as she effortlessly drew people in, laughing with a charm that looked real enough to almost be believable. She exuded confidence, every gesture purposeful and poised. Emilia's gaze lingered on her, trying to decipher what it was that held Alessandro captive. Was it simply her beauty? Or was there something deeper, something she couldn't yet see?

A flash of movement caught Emilia's eye. Vanessa had shifted closer to Alessandro, her hand casually brushing his arm. It was a brief touch, but the intimacy of it made Emilia's heart sink. Alessandro didn't pull away. If anything, his stance softened, a faint smirk gracing his lips as he looked down at her. For a moment, they seemed to be in their own world, oblivious to everyone around them.

Unable to watch any longer, Emilia tore her gaze away, swallowing back the surge of jealousy that felt both foreign and shameful. She'd never agreed to feel this way-never consented to a heart that would betray her with such pain. But seeing the ease with which Vanessa occupied a space she never could reminded Emilia of everything she'd lost the moment she agreed to this marriage.

As she turned to leave the ballroom, a voice called out to her, low and almost amused.

"Leaving so soon?"

Emilia spun around to find Luca DiLaurentis, Alessandro's grandfather, watching her with an expression that was both shrewd and bemused. His dark eyes glimmered with a curiosity that made her feel suddenly exposed, as if he could see straight through her composure.

"Mr. DiLaurentis," she greeted, forcing a polite smile. "I was just-getting some air."

"Is that so?" His tone held a hint of amusement as he took a step closer, his gaze never leaving her face. "A wise choice, I suppose. This room can feel stifling, especially when one isn't accustomed to our... family dynamics."

Emilia's fingers tightened around her glass, and she forced herself to maintain her calm. "I'm still learning to navigate them, yes."

He raised an eyebrow, his expression calculating. "And how are you finding it so far?"

She hesitated, unsure of how much truth to reveal. There was a weight to his gaze, an expectation that made her feel as though he was testing her, waiting to see if she would break under pressure. But something in her rebelled against the idea of showing weakness in front of this man who seemed to hold such power over Alessandro.

"It's... a challenge," she admitted finally, her voice steady. "But I didn't come into this expecting it to be easy."

Luca's lips curved into a faint smile, one that held both approval and something darker. "You have a strong will, Mrs. DiLaurentis. A quality I find both rare and valuable."

Emilia couldn't tell if he was complimenting her or warning her, but she held his gaze with as much confidence as she could muster. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and unsettling. "Do. You'll need that strength if you intend to stay by my grandson's side."

There was a subtle menace in his words, a reminder that she was nothing more than an outsider in this world, a pawn in a game she barely understood. But Emilia's pride wouldn't allow her to back down, not now.

"Staying by Alessandro's side is my role," she replied calmly. "I intend to fulfill it."

His gaze lingered on her, as though trying to peel back her layers and see the truth of her intentions. After a long, tense silence, he nodded, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Very well," he murmured. "We shall see if your resolve matches your words."

Without another word, he turned and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving Emilia alone in the shadowed corner of the ballroom. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the encounter had shaken her. Luca's words echoed in her mind, a warning of what lay ahead if she dared to challenge the expectations placed upon her.

She made her way to a nearby exit, needing the cool night air to clear her thoughts. Outside, the mansion's gardens stretched into the darkness, illuminated by soft lights that cast a warm glow over the neatly trimmed hedges and delicate flowers. Emilia walked down a stone path, her heels clicking softly against the cobblestone, each step bringing her farther from the noise and judgment of the gala.

As she reached a secluded bench near a fountain, she sat down, allowing the silence to wrap around her. For a brief, stolen moment, she felt a sense of peace, a reprieve from the constant tension that had become her life.

But the peace was short-lived.

A shadow moved behind her, and she turned to find Alessandro standing there, his expression inscrutable. He watched her in silence for a moment before stepping closer, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

"You're avoiding me," he said finally, his tone low and controlled.

Emilia straightened, meeting his gaze with a quiet defiance. "I needed air. I wasn't aware I had to explain my every move to you."

A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes, but he quickly masked it. "This is a family event, Emilia. People notice when my wife vanishes into the night."

She let out a bitter laugh. "Since when do you care what people think?"

He stepped closer, his gaze hardening. "Since it reflects on me. This isn't just about you, Emilia."

Her eyes flashed with anger, the frustration she'd been holding back finally spilling over. "It's always about you, isn't it? You parade me around like some prize to appease your family, but the second I have a thought of my own, it's a problem."

Alessandro's expression darkened, his jaw clenching. "Watch your tone."

"Or what?" she shot back, her voice trembling with anger. "What will you do, Alessandro? Lock me away again? Control my every move until I'm nothing but a shadow of myself?"

For a moment, he simply stared at her, his gaze filled with an intensity that made her heart pound. She could feel the tension crackling between them, the unspoken emotions simmering beneath the surface.

"You don't understand the consequences of your actions," he said, his voice dangerously soft.

"Then make me understand," she whispered, her voice barely more than a plea. "Tell me why you're so afraid to let me be anything more than a puppet in this marriage."

A flicker of pain crossed his face, so brief she almost thought she'd imagined it. But then he shook his head, his expression hardening once more.

"This is the life you chose, Emilia," he said coldly. "You're here because you agreed to the terms. Don't act like a victim."

Her heart twisted at his words, the finality of them cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. She took a shaky breath, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.

"You're right," she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. "I did choose this. But I didn't choose to be humiliated. I didn't choose to be made a stranger in my own marriage."

For a brief, agonizing moment, she thought she saw a crack in his armor, a hint of vulnerability that made her heart ache. But it vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced by the cold, unfeeling mask she'd come to know so well.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving her alone in the garden, her heart heavy with the weight of unspoken truths.

Emilia sat there in the darkness, the realization settling over her like a cold shroud. Whatever she'd hoped for in this marriage-whatever small, fragile dream of love or companionship she'd allowed herself to imagine-was nothing more than an illusion.

She was alone.