Chapter 5 Broken trust

The club was already pulsing with bass-heavy music when Aria and Lina stepped inside. Neon lights painted everything in shades of electric pink and blue, and bodies moved rhythmically on the dance floor like a single, glittering organism.

Aria inhaled deeply. The atmosphere was intoxicating-loud enough to drown out thoughts, wild enough to blur reality. For once, no one was looking at her like she was the second choice.

"Let's get you a drink," Lina shouted over the music, grabbing her hand and weaving through the crowd.

They reached the bar, where Lina ordered two cocktails. Aria leaned against the counter, the music vibrating through her bones. She let her eyes wander. People were laughing, dancing, living. And for once, she didn't feel like the world was watching her to see how she'd mess up.

"To freedom," Lina said, handing her a glass.

Aria clinked her drink gently. "To temporary illusions."

They laughed, and for a while, Aria allowed herself to enjoy it. She danced, she let go. She was just a girl in a crowded room, not someone being handed over like a property title.

But even in that moment of escape, a shadow clung to the edges of her mind-tall, cold, and unreadable. Leonardo Ricci.

Back home the next day, Aria expected chaos.

She was right.

Her mother was pacing the living room, phone in hand, still wearing a silk robe even though it was past noon. Bella lounged on the couch, her expression sour.

"Where have you been?" her mother demanded, turning toward her with narrowed eyes.

"With Lina," Aria replied, unfazed.

"You left without permission."

"I didn't realize I needed it," Aria shot back, setting her bag down. "Especially now that I'm being auctioned off like a prize cow."

"Aria!" her mother snapped. "Don't be dramatic. You're about to marry into one of the most powerful families in the city."

"That's the problem. I'm about to marry a stranger for your convenience."

Bella rolled her eyes. "You're being selfish."

Aria turned to her, jaw tight. "You want him, Bella? Be my guest."

"I would've made a better wife," Bella said, lifting her chin. "At least I know how to act with class."

Aria felt her temper spike. "Right. Because throwing tantrums over handbags is the definition of grace."

Their mother stepped between them. "Enough! Aria, go upstairs. Cool down."

Aria stared at both of them, heart pounding. "You're not listening. I'm not doing this. I'm not marrying him."

"Don't be ridiculous," her mother snapped. "You don't have a choice."

Later that evening, Aria lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

Her father hadn't come home.

He hadn't said a word about the outburst.

And yet, as she lay there, her phone buzzed. A message from a number she didn't recognize.

"Tomorrow. 7 PM. Ricci estate. Don't be late."

She stared at the screen. No name, no greeting. Just an order.

She didn't reply.

But she knew she'd go.

The next evening, Aria arrived at the Ricci estate in a modest but elegant black dress. Her nerves were tight, but her expression was calm.

Leonardo was waiting for her in the lounge, a drink in hand, dressed in all black like the devil's favorite heir.

"You're punctual," he said without looking at her.

"You're still rude," she replied, walking past him to sit in the armchair.

He turned to face her, his lips curling into something like amusement. "Why did you come?"

"Because I don't want to spend the rest of my life running from decisions I didn't make."

He studied her in silence. "That's more honest than most people I know."

"I didn't come here to impress you," Aria added quickly.

"Good. I don't want a wife who lives to please."

She blinked. "Then why choose me?"

Leonardo walked to the window, eyes fixed outside. "Because you're not desperate to be chosen."

That answer threw her off balance. She expected arrogance. Power plays. But not that.

He turned back to her. "This won't be a love story, Aria. I'm not that man."

"Good," she said, standing. "Because I'm not looking for a fairytale."

Their eyes locked-sharp against sharp.

It was the beginning of an agreement neither of them could name.

Back at home, Bella was waiting.

Aria walked in and was immediately met with a scowl. "You think just because you had a conversation with him, you're suddenly a perfect match?"

Aria didn't stop. "I think you should stay out of things that don't involve you."

"It does involve me," Bella hissed. "I was supposed to be with someone like him."

Aria turned to her. "No, you were just obsessed with the idea of him. That's different."

Bella's face twisted in fury. "He'll regret picking you."

"Maybe," Aria said softly. "But at least I'm not pretending to be someone I'm not."

Bella threw a glass of water across the room. It shattered against the wall.

Their mother burst in seconds later, gasping. "What is going on here?!"

Aria didn't answer. She just walked past both of them and into her room, locking the door behind her.

For the first time in years, she didn't feel small.

She felt like something was beginning.

Something irreversible.

The wedding plans escalated fast. Meetings, fittings, tastings, contracts-every day a new chain on her freedom.

But Aria endured.

She wore the gowns. Signed the papers. Smiled when instructed.

Leonardo remained distant but present. They met occasionally-cold, brief interactions masked as progress. But it was clear neither of them were letting the world see what they truly felt.

Until the wedding day arrived.

The ceremony was extravagant, filled with power players, photographers, and whispers behind champagne glasses. Aria moved through it like a doll on a pedestal.

Leonardo was breathtaking in a black suit. His eyes never softened. Not even when he said, "I do."

And she didn't either.

After the vows, the party began. Guests laughed. Danced. Toasted to a future they had no insight into.

Aria searched the room for her husband, but he was gone.

She waited.

Waited through speeches.

Waited through cake-cutting.

Waited through the last dance.

Still, he didn't appear.

Her heart thudded with confusion, then humiliation.

After an hour of scanning empty corridors, she finally took a cab to the Ricci mansion.

The guards let her in without a word.

The house was quiet, save for a soft laugh echoing from the kitchen.

She followed the sound.

And froze.

There, barefoot on marble floors, was a woman wearing a crisp white shirt-Leonardo's-giggling as she stirred tea.

Leonardo sat shirtless at the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone like nothing was amiss.

Her breath hitched.

Neither of them noticed her.

Not yet.

But the foundation beneath her cracked in silence.

And something in her heart turned to ice.