Chapter 5 A Deal with the Devil

Chapter 6: Caged Queens and Silent Wars

The silence in the McDonald's estate was suffocating.

Not the comforting kind. Not even the eerie quiet of an abandoned place.

It was the kind of silence that came with secrets.

Aria stood in front of the full-length mirror in her room, her reflection unfamiliar. Her face was pale, her lips pressed into a hard line. Her father's signature still burned in the back of her mind-the one she saw on the contract that morning.

One year.

One year of pretending to be Dante McDonald's wife. Then she could return to whatever remained of her shattered life.

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Miss Aria?" came a soft voice.

She opened the door to find a girl around her age standing there. She was tall, stunning, with sleek black hair and olive skin. Her eyes sparkled mischievously even in the dark corridor.

"I'm Camila," the girl said, offering a slight smile. "Dante told me to check on you. And maybe... keep you from going insane."

Aria blinked. "He did?"

Camila laughed. "Okay, maybe not in those words. But you looked like you could use a friend."

For a second, Aria almost pushed her away. But then... the warmth in Camila's voice melted something frozen inside her.

She stepped back. "Come in."

---

They sat cross-legged on the bed, a soft tray of strawberries and espresso between them. The conversation flowed easier than Aria expected.

Camila was confident and blunt, a strange contrast to the coldness of the estate.

"So let me get this straight," Camila said, plopping a strawberry into her mouth. "Your dad sold you off, Dante offered a contract, and you're supposed to play house for a year?"

Aria nodded. "And then I can go home. That's the deal."

"Classic McDonald's," Camila muttered, rolling her eyes. "Calculating, heartless bastard."

Aria tilted her head. "You two seem close."

Camila smirked. "We grew up together. More like allies than friends. I've seen him cut deals with cartel heads before breakfast. But you... shook something in him."

"What do you mean?"

"He watches you. He doesn't watch anyone."

Aria's stomach twisted. "He doesn't care. To him, I'm just another strategy. Another move on his board."

Camila hesitated. "Is this about what Ronan said?"

Aria's gaze sharpened.

So Camila knew too.

"He called me a weapon," Aria whispered. "Like I'm some... asset to use in a war."

Camila looked down. "In this world, people are weapons. You're just not used to being told."

"I don't want to be part of any of this."

"You were born into it, Aria. You just didn't know it yet."

---

By evening, Aria's patience was threadbare. She stormed down the hall, ignoring the guards who tensed at her pace. She pushed open Dante's office door without knocking.

He was on the phone but held up a finger to pause whoever was speaking. He looked up-calm, collected, the exact opposite of her.

She marched across the room and slammed the contract onto his desk.

"You could've told me," she hissed.

He ended the call without a word, placing the phone down.

"Told you what?"

"That I'm your weapon. That this entire marriage is a mask for something more twisted. your friend said it."

Dante leaned back, expression unreadable. "Ronan talks too much."

"Don't play the cold mafia prince with me, Dante. I deserve the truth."

He stood up slowly, walking around the desk until he was inches from her.

"You want the truth?" he said quietly. "Fine."

He stepped even closer, his voice low and sharp. "This marriage was my idea. I needed a shield. And your last name? It's a dagger with a pretty handle."

Aria's eyes flashed. "So I'm just... convenient?"

"No," Dante said. "You're a storm. They'll never see you coming."

She blinked, thrown off by the softness in his tone.

But he recovered too quickly.

"You're a symbol, Aria. Your presence says I'm not alone. That I have roots, a family, something to lose. That makes people cautious."

"And what do I get?"

"Freedom. In twelve months. No harm, no chains. Just... play the role."

Aria laughed bitterly. "No harm? You dragged me out of my house in the middle of the night."

"You're here because your father left you no choice. I simply made the best of the mess he created."

She crossed her arms. "So that's it? One year of dressing up, smiling for cameras, pretending we're something we're not?"

His voice dropped. "Pretending is the safest way to survive."

She studied him.

"Then I want terms."

Dante raised a brow. "Excuse me?"

"If I'm going to be your fake wife, I get something too. Real things. Not promises."

He nodded, curious. "Go on."

"One: I go to school. A normal school without body guard."

"With a bodyguard," he said without hesitation.

"Fine. Two: I choose what I wear, what I say, how I behave. No puppet strings."

"Within reason."

"And three..." Her voice dropped. "You stop looking at me like I'm yours."

Dante smirked. "But you are, Aria. For now."

"Not in the way you think."

Their eyes locked, something dark pulling between them.

"You can play the devil, Dante," she said, backing toward the door. "But I won't be your angel. Not for free."

He didn't answer.

Because he knew she was right.

---

The next morning, Camila and Aria strolled through the garden. Guards flanked them at a distance, but Camila knew how to dodge their ears.

"You made a deal with him?" Camila asked, sipping from her iced coffee.

"He didn't argue."

"Smart. You'll need to be smarter. He's dangerous, Aria."

"I'm not afraid of him."

Camila gave her a sad smile. "You should be."

Aria looked at the roses around them. Perfectly trimmed. Rooted. Controlled.

"I want to be something he can't control."

Camila laughed. "Then you'll be the first."

---

That night, Aria found a folded note on her pillow.

Wear something black. You're coming with me to the estate .

She crumpled the note in her hand, heart pounding. He was dragging her into the spotlight already.

She didn't want to get married yet.

She wanted to survive.

But survival in the McDonald's estate meant becoming someone else. Someone colder. Sharper. Someone like him.

She stood in front of the closet. And this time... she didn't hesitate.

---