Chapter 2 School area

SCHOOL

Throughout her day in school, Ariella remained in her corner, minding her own business, despite the whispers that never seemed to fade. They followed her like an echo, growing louder with every passing day.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of another day, she grabbed her bag and made her way toward the school gate. There, waiting for her, was Dante's Maybach, sleek and imposing. Without a second thought, she opened the door and slipped into the backseat, the car was already in motion, the driver's eyes focused on the road ahead. The silence between them was thick, only broken by the hum of the engine. Without a word, he drove swiftly, the familiar route leading them straight to the cold, imposing mansion that loomed ahead like a silent sentinel.

As they entered the mansion, the staff and bodyguards stood in quiet unison, their voices a chorus as they greeted her. 'Welcome, Mrs. Romano,' they echoed, their words heavy with formality as she passed. Ariella offered them a silent nod, her mind distant as she made her way toward the stairs.

She headed straight to her room, the door creaking slightly as she pushed it open. There, sitting on her bed with an air of quiet authority, was Dante. His presence filled the room, a silent command that set her heart racing." Ariella's gaze flickered to him, a mixture of confusion and irritation flashing in her eyes. "What are you doing in my room?" she asked, her voice steady but laced with an edge.

Dante didn't even flinch. His expression remained cold, his presence unwavering. "I trust you understand your purpose in this house," he said, his tone laced with authority, leaving no room for doubt or argument.

Ariella's lips pressed into a thin line. "And you don't have to remind me all the time," she said, her voice sharp, though the discomfort in her chest grew with each passing second.

Dante's gaze never wavered, his eyes fixed on hers with a cold intensity that made her skin prickle. The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick. Without a word, he pointed to a box resting on the bed-a pristine gift box, its elegant appearance at odds with the tension in the room.

"Get ready. We have a banquet to attend at 8 tonight," Dante commanded, his voice low and final. Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and left the room, the door closing with a soft click behind him, leaving Ariella alone with her thoughts and the weight of his words lingering in the air.

Just yesterday, she had become Mrs. Romano, and now, he was dragging her to a banquet? The thought gnawed at her as she walked slowly toward the bed, her mind racing with unanswered questions. What was all of this really about?

She paused for a moment before carefully lifting the lid of the box he had pointed to. Inside, a shimmering dinner dress caught her eye-its glittering fabric almost glowing in the dim light of the room. Beneath it, a delicate mask lay, its elegant design adding to the mystery. Ariella's brow furrowed as she wondered just what kind of banquet awaited them, her curiosity growing with each passing second.

Ariella's fingers brushed over the fabric, its softness almost surreal, as if it belonged to another world-a world she was just beginning to glimpse. The mask, delicate and intricately designed, seemed to beckon her into that unknown. Her mind raced with questions she couldn't answer. Why a mask? And why a banquet?

Ariella quickly changed into the dress, its form-fitting design accentuating her figure, but she felt no pride, only a deep sense of being out of place. As she adjusted the mask before the mirror, the woman staring back at her seemed like a stranger.

Footsteps outside the door snapped her from her thoughts. Dante's low, commanding voice called from the hallway. "Are you ready?

Her heart raced as she opened the door to face him. His gaze scanned her, indifferent. "You look... acceptable," he said, offering no hint of emotion.

Without another word, Dante turned and led her down the grand staircase. Ariella followed, her mind swirling with questions. What was this banquet about? And why was she part of it?

They reached the door, and Dante opened it without looking back. She followed him into the Maybach, the car's interior as luxurious as the mansion they'd left behind. The driver said nothing as they sped away, the night air growing colder as the city lights disappeared into the distance.

As the car turned onto a quieter road, Ariella's unease grew. The building ahead looked like a fortress, its stone walls lit by golden lights and guarded by men in suits. When the car stopped, Dante turned to her. "Stay close to me," he said, his voice colder than the night air.

She nodded, a chill settling over her. The staff greeted them at the entrance with silent professionalism and opened the grand doors to reveal an opulent banquet hall. The chandeliers sparkled overhead, and fine china adorned the tables. As Dante entered, the room seemed to hush, all eyes on him.

Ariella followed, her stomach tightening. As they neared a table, a man in a dark suit rose to greet them. "Mr. Romano," he said, shaking Dante's hand with cold warmth. Ariella felt like an outsider, surrounded by strangers in a world she didn't understand, her unease growing with each step.

They crossed hands as they entered the room, the tension between them noticeable. The soft murmur of conversations seemed to hush as they passed through the crowd, every eye on them. Dante's presence was commanding, but Ariella felt exposed, as if every step she took was under a magnifying glass.

The man in the dark suit who had greeted them earlier approached once more, his eyes lingering on Ariella for a moment too long before turning back to Dante. "Mr. Romano," he said smoothly, "It's an honor to have you with us tonight."

Dante nodded, his grip firm on her hand as he responded, "The pleasure is mine." His voice was calm, almost casual, but Ariella couldn't shake the sense that there was something more beneath the surface.

As they moved further into the room, Ariella's stomach twisted. The grandiosity of the setting and the cold gaze of those around her only amplified her feeling of isolation. Dante's grip on her hand was the only thing anchoring her in that moment, but even it felt strangely possessive, as though she were a mere accessory to his presence in this strange world.