Chapter 3 Introduction of the D'Amores and Nico

Sienna's POV

I've always believed that fate is a set of locked doors, and free will is the key you either find or forge.The day after I met Nico D'Amore, I decided to break out. Not just because of him, though his smirk haunted me like a curse. Not because of my father, who called me a peace offering like I was a bottle of aged whiskey. Not even because of the dress still clinging to the chair in my room, waiting for me to wear it like a noose. I decided to run because I finally understood something: in this world, women like me didn't get choices and I wasn't ready to give mine up.

The Rosetti Manor was larger than it appeared at first glance. The corridors stretched into wings and chambers like arteries in a beast, and most of the windows were sealed or barred. My room had one, but it opened only a few inches and faced a sheer drop to thorn-covered hedges below.

I didn't sleep that night. I sat by the fireplace, still in my black silk dress, clutching the locket I'd worn since childhood. Inside was a faded photo of a woman with my eyes and a folded piece of paper I'd never dared to open until now, with trembling fingers, I unfolded the yellowed paper. The ink was smeared, but three words were still legible.

"Run when ready."

My stomach dropped.

I didn't know who had written it. But the fact that someone had planted that message in the locket I'd worn since I was five told me this: someone knew what I was being led into.

And they'd wanted me to fight. I tucked the note back into the locket, closed it, and stood. Time to run.

The first thing I needed was information. That meant stepping into danger.

At breakfast, I walked into the family dining room with my chin high, a silk robe wrapped tightly over my shoulders. My father was already seated at the head of the long table, reading a newspaper as if he hadn't orchestrated the complete derailment of my life.

"You're late," he said without looking up. I sat beside him. "I'm not one of your soldiers." He folded the paper, finally facing me. "No. You're worse. You're sentimental." I ignored the insult and reached for a piece of bread. "I want to visit the greenhouse," I said, biting casually. He tilted his head. "You've been locked away for sixteen years, and the first thing you want is flowers?"

"No. I want air."

He considered. "Fine. Luca will escort you." Luca turned out to be the youngest of the guards-maybe mid-twenties, with a buzz cut, a Roman nose, and eyes too kind for this world. He followed me like a shadow as we walked toward the back of the estate. I kept glancing at the angles of the fences, the height of the garden walls. Mental blueprints were forming in my mind like puzzle pieces.

"Have you worked here long?" I asked, keeping my tone innocent. "Since I was seventeen," he said. "And how old are you now?"

"Twenty-four."

"Do you like it?"

He smiled faintly. "It's a job."

"Have you ever tried to leave?"

His eyes flicked to mine, sharp now. "Why would I?"

"Right," I said smoothly. "It must pay well."

Silence.

I walked deeper into the garden. Vines spilled over marble statues, and black tulips bloomed among the roses. I noticed something that made my pulse jump-an old servant door, nearly camouflaged in the ivy-covered back wall.

Bingo.

That night, I waited until the manor slept or at least, pretended to.

The halls were dim, the chandeliers humming softly with dying light. My boots were silent against the stone floors as I slipped through the corridor, a satchel slung across my shoulder. Inside: cash stolen from the kitchen drawer, my locket, a switchblade I'd found in a drawer, and a bottle of water.

The plan was simple: out the servant door, down the hill, through the forest, and into town. From there, I'd find a phone, call a cab, and vanish. I didn't know where I'd go yet, but it would be anywhere but Nico D'Amore's estate.

The moon was fat and low as I stepped into the greenhouse. The air smelled of mint and earth. My breath clouded in the cold as I crouched beneath the ferns and pushed open the servant door.

It creaked.

I froze.

Footsteps. Behind me.

I turned just in time to see Luca emerge from the shadow.

"I should've known," he said softly.

"Let me go."

His jaw tightened. "I can't."

"You don't understand-"

He raised a hand. "No. I do."

He stepped closer, pulled something from his coat-a small silver pendant with a sun symbol etched into it. He held it out to me. "Your mother gave me this the night she disappeared. Told me to give it to you when you were ready." My heart stopped.

"What?"

"She said you'd run. And if you ever did, to follow you-not stop you." He pressed the pendant into my palm.

"She loved you," he whispered.

Tears stung my eyes. "I don't even remember her."

"I do. She was fierce. And kind. Like you."

I nodded slowly. "Then help me." He looked down. "I'll give you a five-minute head start." That was all I needed. I ran.

Branches clawed at my face as I sprinted down the hill. Mud clung to my boots. My breath was ragged, lungs on fire, but I didn't stop. I ran until the manor lights were just stars behind me, until the forest swallowed me whole.

When I finally reached the road, I collapsed against a rusted signpost and pulled out the burner phone I'd taken from one of the staff desks. I dialed a random cab company I'd seen on a kitchen flier. An hour later, headlights broke through the trees. A red sedan pulled up. I opened the door-and found him inside.

Nico D'Amore. Arms spread over the backseat, dressed in black-on-black, eyes like frozen steel. My stomach dropped. "Going somewhere, Rosetti?"

I reached for my blade. He was faster. His hand closed over mine. "Cute," he murmured, wrenching the knife away. "But stupid."

"How did you-?"

"Luca called me."

I blinked in betrayal. He chuckled. "Don't be mad. He did exactly what I told him to do."

"You planned this?"

"I wanted to see how far you'd get." His gaze burned into mine. "Congratulations. You made it further than I expected." I tried to shove him. "Let me go." He grabbed my wrists and yanked me close. His breath was warm against my skin.

"No."

"I'm not your prisoner."

"No," he said. "You're my bride."

I slapped him. The sound echoed like a gunshot. He stared at me. Then, to my shock-he smiled. "I'm going to enjoy breaking you in, Rosetti." I bared my teeth. "And I'm going to enjoy watching you try."