Chapter 27 Nicole
Nicole
It takes a moment to steady myself. Cold air grazes my bare arms and thighs, sending a shiver down my spine. The scent of damp stone wafts into my nostrils.
I blink several times until my vision adjusts to the darkness. Jagged walls jut out in all directions, and stalactites hang overhead like poised blades. I think I’m in the same cave where I once chased the vials.
“Gaetano?” I whisper, wiping the wet tears from my cheeks.
A thick mist drifts through the distance, dense as smoke. Silver and black threads flicker within it, climbing the walls and curling around jagged formations. It reminds me of cemetery fog on one of those bleak days when the sky bleeds straight into the ground.
And yet, an unseen force pulls me toward it.
“That’s right,” Gaetano’s voice echoes.
A heartbeat later, his silhouette sharpens through the mist, wearing the same threatening expression as before. My pulse quickens, though I’m no longer sure whether it’s because of him, or because of what’s about to happen.
“Your trial is simple,” he says. “Walk all the way to me.”
I freeze mid-step, gauging the distance between us. No more than ten meters… Maybe he’s about to conceal himself again?
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m waiting, Baroness.”
The fog spreads out, filling the cavern and shrouding me in a gray blindfold. I turn in place, searching for a break in the mist, but sounds emerge: clinking dishes, glasses chiming, muffled voices, laughter, and soft music.
Gradually, shapes materialize in the haze—two long banquet tables running down each side of the hall, leading to the far end where Gaetano had just stood. Chairs line them, filled with people whose faces blur at the edges. As I step closer…
My parents. Dad sits at the head of the table, a glass in hand and an expression I recognize well. It’s the look of a man satisfied that everything has gone as planned. My mother sits beside him, her signature smile twisting her lips.
I scan the tables. Boyana and the twins are giggling, their eyes glued to their phones.
A few seats down, I notice the twins Kiril and Samuil, along with more of our old school classmates.
There are faces from parties, galas, and dinners.
People I’ve talked with, laughed with, and danced with.
Including Daniel Deliberov, who now studies the others around the table.
Confusion tightens in my chest. They’re all here, yet no one seems to notice me. Am I invisible again?
I glance down to check whether my body is still here.
I nearly choke on the scream clawing its way up my throat.
I’m completely naked!
Everything inside me ignites with shame. I drop to the floor, desperate to be out of sight. The cold surface bites into my palms and knees as I crawl toward a table. Sliding between two pairs of men’s shoes, I tuck myself underneath it for cover.
I curl inward, trying to concentrate. Panic clamps down on my chest. This has to be an illusion. Just an illusion. They’re not really here.
Can I count on that, though? What if Gaetano actually brought me to an event?
Is he capable of recreating this many people? He’s never even heard of some of them!
Okay. Breathe.
The goal is to get to the other side, right? Then that’s what I’ll do.
I crawl under the table, doing my best to stay dead center, far from the shiny toes on either side of me.
I’ve managed to cover a few feet of distance when a familiar voice says, “Seriously, when is she going to stop thinking she’s special just because of her dad?
In the adult world, being somebody’s daughter isn’t enough. You need actual talent.”
“And that doesn’t include swinging your hips at parties,” a second female chimes in, also familiar.
Misha and Marie. Their sharp little pitches are so vivid.
“She can’t even do that right. It’s like watching a parody in slow motion. She pretends she’s all about ‘style’ and ‘mystery,’ but everything’s a pose.”
“Not one pose—lots of poses. And not nearly enough to cover what she’s showing.”
“I don’t get why people continue to act like she’s so damn special.”
“Well, you know why. She’s the ‘Little Baroness’…
” The last voice comes from a third girl.
My eyes lock onto a pair of rose-pink Manolo Blahnik heels.
Boyana’s. The same pair we picked out together a few weeks ago.
How is it possible they’re exactly those shoes?
Didn’t Gaetano say he could only recreate what he knows?
Then what if this… isn’t an illusion?
A sharp male voice interrupts. “Baroness? How ‘bout ‘brainless’? I heard her daddy had to pull strings to get her into university. Can you even picture her running an empire?” Kiril Karaivanov.
Laughter erupts across the table. My nails dig into my palms. That’s a lie! I got in with top grades.
“Ha! She might not have anything left to run much longer.” Marie laughs. “Her family’s basically bankrupt.”
“Oh, if you ask her, it’s just hater gossip. She cornered me in the bathroom at your birthday to convince me none of it was true!” Boyana says.
The world around me sways. I slam my fists into the ground and push forward with my legs.
One lunge—the twins, always hovering in my orbit, desperate to steal some attention.
Another—Boyana, the girl whose back I’ve guarded for years out of foolish sentiment.
Another—all the nameless men I’ve shut down, for they served as nothing but a fleeting ego boost.
I don’t understand how Gaetano could recreate all of this… but it must be an illusion. Still, with each painful crawl forward, bitterness rises in my throat.
Then, an unfamiliar woman’s voice. “She’s pretty. You can’t deny that. And the family name’s decent. The Construction Baron still holds weight, despite everything…”
“She would be pretty, if she’d learned not to be late. I hate waiting.”
A chill runs down my spine. Daniel Deliberov. Why is he talking about lateness?
The woman lets out a low, elegant scoff. “Don’t worry. She looks like the kind of girl who learns fast, as long as you put a leash on her.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mother. Lineage is only the first step. Let’s see how she behaves tonight. If she tries to act smart, I’ll send her straight back to whatever hole she crawled out of. Along with her father.”
“She won’t cause any trouble. She’s been raised to obey. And your dad liked her…”
A void yawns open inside me, swallowing everything.
“So what?” Daniel mutters. “Her being late tonight is completely disrespectful…”
The world tilts. Sweat beads on my forehead, but I can’t wipe it—my hands are frozen against the floor.
‘Tonight.’
‘Late.’
‘Obedient.’
‘Your dad liked her.’
My heart pounds against my ribs. Every drop of blood in me screams one word: truth.
Not an illusion.
Not a scene.
Not a game.
This is the dinner with Daniel Deliberov. Gaetano did something that made me lose track of time. That’s why he took me to the cave—to hold me there, to delay me. And now… I’m late.
My breath catches. I’m curled beneath the table, naked and dust-covered, at the center of my own nightmare. This isn’t a dream. This is my life.
I crawl forward a few more inches, but every movement feels heavy. My body throbs with a dark, suffocating sensation. I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore. It’s disgust, rage, betrayal, humiliation.
How dare they? Daniel and his mother?
How dare any of them—
I lose my balance and nearly hit the ground face-first when someone grabs my ankles and yanks me out. Panic rises in my throat. I slam my palms against the floor, desperate to hold on, but my bare stomach slides across the stone.
My knees scrape raw as I’m dragged out between the two long tables and dropped. I curl up instinctively, trying to hide. But it’s too late.
The shadows around me stir. Chairs creak. Laughter bubbles up. Snickers. Whispers.
Scrambling to a kneeling position, I split my hair at the nape of my neck, covering my chest. God, it’s not enough.
“Years later, and you’re still the same pathetic loser.”
I spin on my knees, facing those rose-pink heels. Boyana towers over me, hands on her hips, her mouth twisting into a sly smile.
“How dare you?” I snarl through my teeth.
Forgetting I’m naked, I start to rise. No one’s going to talk to me like that, least of all Boyana.
Heavy hands slam down on my shoulders. A sharp shove knocks me back onto the stone, biting into my skin. “Know your place, girl,” Daniel Deliberov drawls above me. “You’re here to decorate. Not to yell. And certainly not to speak.”
His hand rests on my hair, fingers sliding through the strands with the kind of possessive boredom you’d show when inspecting a horse before a sale.
“Look at her. She can’t even stand up,” someone sneers nearby.
Shadows envelop me. My emotions cloud my vision, blending faces and voices into a single faceless crowd.
“And she thinks she can boss us around?”
“This is supposed to be the future Mrs. Deliberov? You must be desperate, Daniel.”
“Or blind.”
The world shrinks to just their laughter and the weight on my shoulders.
“Well, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, they say…”
I repeat it like a mantra. But with all these voices around me, I can’t concentrate. I press my palms over my ears to block them out, curling toward the ground.
They yank my hair and claw my shoulders until pain flashes across my flesh. Clenching my arms, I try to push them off, but they’re stronger. And there are too many of them. They force me back down. I surge again, shoving through hands, through taunts. But they overpower me once more.
Despair coils around me like a second attacker, reinforcing the humiliation. No! I won’t let them keep me down. I suck in a breath and scream.
But no sooner do I push myself up, and I’m crashing to the floor once more. The blow knocks the world sideways. My vision spins, and panic floods my lungs.
I can’t. I can’t. It’s not working.
Tears sting my eyes. I squeeze them shut. Don’t let them see you cry. Don’t give them that.