Bound by Blood and Vows

The chandelier above the Vescari family dining table sparkled like a crown, casting a golden glow over the porcelain plates and silver cutlery arranged to perfection. The aroma of roasted veal and garlic butter filled the room, but Aria barely tasted any of it. Her fork toyed with the steamed vegetables on her plate as laughter erupted again from across the table.

Bella was mid-story, gesturing animatedly with her manicured hands, her wine glass dangerously close to tipping with each dramatic flourish.

"And then I told him," she continued with a smirk, "If you're going to wear velvet loafers, at least make sure they're not burgundy. Honestly, who still wears burgundy?"

Their mother laughed, eyes crinkling with joy, her hands clasped under her chin. "Oh, darling, you always say exactly what people are too afraid to say. That's what makes you special."

"Right?" Bella beamed, flipping her glossy curls over her shoulder. "You have to set standards. People look up to me, you know?"

Their father chuckled, his voice warm. "You're a natural leader, Bella. Always have been. Men must be lining up just to speak to you."

Aria pressed her lips together and stared down at her plate. She reached for her water, fingers trembling slightly. She had tried to talk about her internship at a local gallery earlier in the meal-just one comment, one attempt to be seen-but Bella had talked over her, and the moment vanished like smoke.

She tried again, quieter this time. "The curator said they might extend the program-"

"Ugh, Aria," Bella sighed, without even turning her head. "Can you pass the salt? Thanks."

Aria passed it. Their mother didn't look her way. Neither did their father.

"The gallery is small," Aria added, voice soft. "But they're hosting a private showing next month, and I might-"

"You know who I ran into today?" Bella cut in, bright-eyed. "Alessandro Volpe's mother. She said he's back from Milan. You remember him, right, Papa? The one with the lake house and that German shepherd?"

"Of course!" Their father smiled wide. "Handsome boy. Very sharp."

Aria blinked slowly and stopped speaking.

The rest of the meal passed in a blur of Bella's anecdotes and praise. When dessert was served, their parents were still lost in the world of their youngest daughter-their star. Aria excused herself quietly and slipped away to her room, the sound of Bella's laughter echoing behind her like an old wound.

The next day, Aria walked two steps behind Bella through the cobbled streets of the upscale shopping district. Sunlight filtered through the sycamore trees lining the walkway, dappling her face in golden flecks. Bella, of course, was in full bloom-dressed in a silk mini dress, designer heels clicking confidently, sunglasses perched like a crown.

They had just left a boutique where Bella had bought three dresses and two handbags without blinking. Aria hadn't touched a thing.

"Why do you always look like a ghost at a party?" Bella asked suddenly, pulling off her sunglasses as they neared the café. "Seriously. Could you try smiling? Just once?"

"I wasn't aware I was supposed to perform," Aria replied, keeping her tone level.

Bella scoffed. "Oh, please. You act like you're above it all. Like you're too deep for anyone to understand you."

"I never said that," Aria said quietly.

"You don't have to. It's written all over your face." Bella turned, halting their walk in the middle of the sidewalk. "You always make things about you, Aria. Always the victim. Always invisible. Maybe if you weren't so miserable all the time, people would actually want to be around you."

Aria's shoulders stiffened. "You mean like you?"

"Yes," Bella snapped. "Exactly like me."

People nearby had started glancing over. A couple walking their dog slowed down, pretending not to listen but clearly intrigued. Bella's eyes flashed, her voice dropping just a notch.

"You ruin everything," she hissed. "Every time we're out together, I feel like I have to apologize for your presence. You're not fun, you're not social, and you definitely don't belong in my world."

"I didn't realize it belonged to you."

Bella took a step closer. "Don't test me. I swear to God, Aria, if I have to spend one more day with you moping in the background, I'm going to lose my mind."

Just then, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb. Their mother stepped out, heels clicking as she approached.

"What's going on?" she asked, her tone strained.

Bella turned dramatically toward her. "She's making things unbearable again, Mama. I can't deal with it. She's sucking the life out of everything. I just wanted to have one nice day."

Their mother looked at Aria. Not in concern. Not even in anger. Just with quiet exhaustion.

"Bella's been trying so hard to stay positive," she said softly. "You know she's had a difficult week."

"I haven't said anything," Aria said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Their mother reached into her clutch and pulled out a few folded bills. She stepped closer, pressed the money into Aria's hand.

"Go find a hotel for a couple nights. Just until Bella calms down."

Aria didn't move.

"She just needs space," her mother added, as though this were completely normal. "You understand, don't you?"

Aria looked down at the money, crumpled in her palm. She felt a strange sense of detachment, as though she were watching the moment from outside herself.

"I understand," she said.

She turned without another word and walked away, the city's noise swelling around her like a curtain. No one called after her. No one looked back.

As Aria turned the corner, the hum of the city dulled to a low murmur in her ears. She passed by a window display of golden gowns and perfume bottles, but she didn't stop. Her steps were slow, not out of hesitation, but from a strange weight that settled in her chest. She'd always known her place in the family-it was somewhere just outside the light, somewhere quiet and small-but it still amazed her how easy it was for them to cast her aside.

She stared at the folded bills in her hand. It wasn't the money that stung. It was the gesture. Cold. Dismissive. As though she were an inconvenience they could send away like noise during a party.

A child ran past her, laughing, chased by a woman who looked exhausted but happy. The sound should have been pleasant, but it only deepened the ache inside her. No one had ever chased after her. Not once.

She stopped at a crosswalk, blinking against the brightness of the afternoon. Somewhere behind her, Bella was probably already laughing again, untouched, unbothered. And Aria-forgotten, again-crossed the street alone, carrying the silence like a second skin.

The hotel lobby smelled of polished marble and expensive cologne-clean, cold, and untouched. Aria stepped in, clutching the hem of her sweater as if it could shield her from the weight of everything she wasn't saying. The receptionist greeted her with a trained smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Reservation?" the woman asked.

Aria shook her head. "Just... one night."

A pause, then the clack of fingers across a keyboard. "Standard queen, city view. ID and payment?"

She handed over the folded bills her mother had pressed into her hand. They felt heavy now, like they'd absorbed every ounce of rejection from the morning. The woman processed the payment, handed her a keycard, and pointed toward the elevators.

As Aria rode up, her reflection in the elevator doors stared back-tired eyes, wind-ruffled hair, and a blank expression that didn't belong to anyone who mattered. She swallowed hard.

The room was too nice for how she felt. Pristine bedding, floor-to-ceiling windows, and soft jazz humming from unseen speakers. She dropped her bag on the chair and collapsed onto the bed, letting the silence press in around her like a blanket.

No one called.

No one checked in.

By the next afternoon, Aria sat in the hotel café nursing a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold. She'd spent the morning pacing the room, trying not to scroll through social media, trying not to wonder what Bella was doing. Probably shopping again. Probably posting pictures of avocado toast and designer handbags while the world adored her.

Aria didn't belong in that world.

She never had.

The bell over the café door chimed. She didn't look up at first, but the shift in atmosphere made her glance over. Two men entered-both in sharp suits, clean lines, and quiet command. But it was the one in the center who pulled focus.

Tall. Dark hair swept back. Eyes like a winter storm-cold, unreadable, and far too calculating for someone so young. He wasn't handsome in the way Bella liked to label boys. He was intimidating, precise, powerful.

He didn't notice her.

Of course he didn't.

He sat down at a table near the window, flanked by his guards or associates or whatever they were. One of them leaned in, murmured something. The man-who Aria would later learn was Matteo Ricci, billionaire CEO of the Ricci Corporation-nodded, then glanced out the window with the disinterest of someone who owned everything worth seeing.

Aria dropped her gaze and stood, abandoning her half-finished drink. The last thing she needed was to embarrass herself in front of people who lived in a world she'd never even touch.

Later that evening, Aria called home.

Her mother answered.

"Aria," she said, not unkindly, but not warmly either. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Aria replied, though the ache in her chest said otherwise. "Just wanted to check in."

There was a pause.

"Bella's doing better," her mother said. "She needed space."

"Of course."

"She asked if you were still upset."

Aria blinked. "She did?"

"Well, not in so many words. But you know how she is-sensitive underneath all that confidence."

Aria didn't answer. There was nothing to say.

Her mother sighed. "Don't take it personally, sweetheart. Bella's always had a bit more... presence. You're just different."

"I know," Aria said quietly.

"Come home in a few days. Let things settle."

"Sure."

She hung up and stared at the ceiling, the silence louder than ever.

Meanwhile, across the city, Matteo Ricci sat in his penthouse office, watching the city lights blink below like dying stars. His phone buzzed beside him, and he picked it up without looking.

"It's done," his assistant said. "They're on the brink. Vescari's company is bleeding money."

"Good," Matteo replied. "That'll make negotiations easier."

"You're really going through with it? The marriage?"

His eyes narrowed. "My parents are circling like vultures. They want a wedding. They want stability. I'll give them what they want. But on my terms."

"You really want her? The older one?"

"I don't want anyone," Matteo said coolly. "But if I have to play this game, I'll marry the quiet one."

"Bella's more-"

"Predictable," Matteo interrupted. "She'd be a liability. Aria, on the other hand, won't get in the way."

There was a pause.

"I'll set the meeting."

Matteo leaned back in his chair, letting the city disappear behind the glass. He didn't want a wife. He didn't believe in love. But if marriage was the price of peace, he would choose the one who didn't smile too easily. The one who wasn't looking to be chosen.

Three days passed before Aria returned home.

The house was the same, but something felt different. Bella wasn't in sight, and her mother gave her a brief hug, then turned to stir a pot on the stove.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Sure," Aria said.

"You should rest. Big dinner tonight. Your father has... guests."

Guests?

Aria didn't ask. She climbed the stairs, unpacked her small bag, and tried not to feel like a stranger in her own room.

That night, the dining room was dressed in candles and fine linens. Aria sat at the far end of the table, quiet as ever. Bella swept in wearing red-always red-and smiled at the man sitting beside their father.

Matteo Ricci.

Aria stiffened.

Their father stood to toast. "A new chapter for our family. A promising future."

Aria's heart pounded. She barely heard the rest. Matteo's eyes skimmed the room like he was scanning merchandise. When they met hers, he didn't blink.

She looked away.

After dinner, Bella leaned close to her with a whisper. "He's mine, Aria. Don't get any ideas."

Aria blinked. "What?"

Bella smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You always think being quiet makes you mysterious. It doesn't. It makes you invisible."

Aria opened her mouth, but no words came.

And that was when Matteo spoke.

"I'd like a word with Miss Aria."

Everyone went still. Even Bella.

Their father cleared his throat. "Of course."

Aria stood slowly, every step feeling like it echoed too loud. Matteo gestured toward the glass doors leading to the back terrace.

When they were alone, he turned.

"You know who I am."

"Yes," she said carefully.

"I don't want a wife," he said flatly. "But I'm going to marry you."

Her breath caught.

"I'm not offering romance," he continued. "This is business. Say yes, and your family survives. Say no..."

His silence was heavier than a threat.

Aria stared at him. "Why me?"

"Because you don't beg to be seen. That makes you dangerous. And I prefer dangerous over desperate."

She didn't answer.

Yet.

Aria sat on the edge of her bed, fists clenched, her heart hammering in her chest. Her skin still burned from the shock of what Matteo had said the night before. Marry him? Just like that? As if she were some pawn to be moved across the board for someone else's victory?

No one had even asked her.

Not her father. Not her mother.

And definitely not him.

The door to her room creaked open.

"Aria," her mother's voice floated in. "Come downstairs, we need to talk."

She didn't move at first. But then, with slow, dragging steps, she walked down the hall, down the stairs, and into the living room where her mother, father, and-of course-Bella were waiting. Her father's face was unreadable, while her mother looked nervous, smoothing down the hem of her blouse. Bella was perched on the couch, legs crossed, looking like she was waiting for a show.

Aria stood before them, arms folded tightly.

"Why?" she asked. Her voice cracked despite her effort to keep it steady. "Why would you agree to this? Without even telling me?"

Her father sighed. "It's what's best for our family, Aria. You must understand, this isn't about emotions. This is survival."

"I'm not a business transaction!" Her voice rose, breaking through the polite stillness of the room. "You didn't even think to ask how I felt about marrying a stranger?"

Her mother stepped forward. "He's not just any man, sweetheart. He's powerful, respected. And he chose you."

Aria's breath hitched. "He chose me because I'm quiet. Because I won't fight back. Because Bella would be too loud, too obvious."

Bella rolled her eyes and stood. "Please. Like you'd even know how to be a wife to someone like Leonardo Ricci."

Aria blinked. "What?"

"That's who he is. Leonardo Matteo Ricci. You didn't even bother to Google him, did you?" Bella scoffed. "You think you'll survive in his world? You cry when people raise their voice."

"That's enough, Bella," their mother snapped, though there was no real heat in it.

Bella smirked. "I'm just saying what we're all thinking. She's not ready for that kind of life. She's never even been kissed."

"Stop!" Aria's voice cracked as her tears finally spilled over. "Just stop acting like I'm some burden you all have to manage!"

Her father looked down at his hands.

Her mother sighed.

No one defended her.

With a choked sob, Aria turned on her heel and stormed out the front door, slamming it behind her.

She didn't know where she was going until her feet led her to the corner of the street where the buses stopped. Dialing the most frequent number on her call log, she waited for her best fried to answer the call. Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she glanced down at the screen.

Lina: You okay? Want to get out for a bit?

Aria sniffed, wiped her tears, and typed back:

Please.

An hour later, Aria sat at a rooftop lounge with her best friend, Lina, who handed her a mojito and a napkin at the same time.

"Drink and cry. In that order," Lina said, brushing her wild curls back with a grin.

Aria laughed, though it broke in the middle.

Lina's face softened. "Hey. Talk to me."

Aria sipped the drink, letting the mint and lime distract her for a second before she sighed. "They want me to marry him. That guy. The one from the dinner."

Lina blinked. "Wait, what?"

"Leonardo Ricci."

"The Ricci? Like... the Ricci Empire? The man who probably owns half of Milan and the silence in every courtroom?"

Aria nodded.

Lina let out a low whistle. "Damn. I mean, yeah, he's ridiculously good-looking in that scary mafia CEO kind of way, but-wait. Are you actually marrying him?"

"I don't want to." Her voice dropped. "But my dad... he said we're falling apart. That this is the only way to save everything."

Lina frowned. "That's so messed up. You're not a solution. You're a person."

"Bella thinks I'd make a terrible wife."

Lina rolled her eyes so hard Aria thought they might stick. "Bella thinks the world revolves around her TikTok followers. Ignore her."

"I tried," Aria said. "But sometimes I wonder if she's right."

Lina grabbed her hands across the table. "Listen to me, Aria. Just because you're quieter doesn't mean you're weak. And you're not less just because your family's blind to what you carry. You have a spine, and you have a heart. That man? He won't know what hit him."

Aria smiled faintly. "I don't want to be married to someone like that, Lina. He doesn't even want a wife. He said that himself."

Lina narrowed her eyes. "And what do you want?"

Aria paused. The city lights sparkled beyond the railing. "To be seen. Just once. For who I am. Not for who I make life easier for."

Lina raised her glass. "Then let's start with tonight. No talking about mafia marriages or spoiled sisters. Tonight, you're just Aria. And she deserves a damn good night."

Aria stood in front of the mirror, holding up two dresses with a doubtful frown. One was black, simple, hugging her curves just enough to feel bold. The other-a shimmering midnight blue-was something Lina had stuffed into her arms the moment she agreed to go out.

"You are not going to a funeral," Lina had said. "You're going to reclaim your damn life."

With a hesitant breath, Aria slipped into the blue dress. The fabric clung in all the right places, the neckline daring without being vulgar. She smoothed her hands down her sides, eyeing her reflection. For once, she didn't look like someone's afterthought. She looked... alive.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she applied eyeliner, the motion unfamiliar. She rarely wore makeup. Bella always said she wasn't the type. But tonight, Aria didn't care what Bella thought.

She added a soft coat of lipstick, spritzed on perfume, and pulled her hair into a loose, effortless updo that Lina insisted was "hot girl effortless."

The heels felt strange on her feet, but they gave her height-presence.

Aria stared at herself one last time, lips pressed into a line.

Tonight, she wasn't the invisible sister.

Tonight, she was just Aria.

They danced under neon lights, laughed over overpriced fries, and walked home barefoot with heels in hand, ignoring the stares of passersby. For a few hours, Aria forgot the weight of her name, the price of her silence, and the cold future waiting behind closed doors.

But even as she lay in Lina's apartment that night, curled under soft blankets, a part of her knew-tomorrow, the pressure would return.

Because the Ricci name didn't wait for consent. It demanded obedience.

And her parents had already given hers away.