22. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
Aria
T he gown is suffocating. Layers of silk and lace cling to my body like a web, trapping me in a nightmare I can’t wake up from. The pale cream color, handpicked by my father, is supposed to signify purity. A laughable thought.
The maids flutter around me like restless moths, adjusting the hem, fluffing the veil, perfecting every detail of my prison.
“Enough,” I snap, my voice sharper than intended. They flinch, retreating slightly but not entirely leaving. Vittorio’s orders are clear—they are to make me look “presentable” for my fiancé.
My stomach churns at the thought of him. Lorenzo Valerio. A man as vile as the name sounds. Our brief meeting earlier is enough to know what kind of monster he is. The sneer, the arrogance, the condescending tone as he assesses me like livestock. And his “generosity”—offering to accept Elias under his “protection”—still makes my blood boil.
“Do you need anything, Miss Aria?” one of the younger maids asks hesitantly, her voice trembling.
“Yes,” I say sharply, locking eyes with her. “Time.”
The maid blinks, unsure of how to respond.
I sigh, my anger cooling slightly. “Just… leave me alone for a moment,” I say, softer this time.
They exchange uncertain glances before scurrying out, leaving me alone in the opulent room.
I pace, my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides. Every second that ticks by feels like a noose tightening around my neck. Is it foolish to hope that someone will come for me? That Bane will come for me?
I shake my head. No. Bane has abandoned me before, and I can’t afford to cling to that hope now. Still, a small, desperate part of me prays that something—anything—will happen to stop this.
“Please,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “If anyone’s listening, please… help me.”
The door slams open, and I jump, my heart leaping to my throat. Vittorio storms in, his expression thunderous. Behind him, Lorenzo follows, a smug grin plastered on his face.
“Aria,” Vittorio barks, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. “What is the meaning of this delay?”
I straighten, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I needed a moment.”
“A moment?” he repeats mockingly. “You’ve had plenty of those. The guests are waiting. Lorenzo is waiting.”
“I don’t care,” I say, my voice trembling but resolute. “I’m not going through with this.”
Vittorio’s face darkens, his jaw tightening. Lorenzo steps forward, his sneer widening.
“You don’t have a choice, my dear,” Lorenzo says smoothly. “You should be grateful. I’m offering you and your child a life of security and privilege. Do you know how many men would tolerate raising another man’s son?”
“Tolerate?” I shoot back, my temper flaring. “Elias isn’t a burden to tolerate. He’s my son, and he doesn’t need your so-called protection.”
Lorenzo’s grin falters, replaced by a cold glare. “That attitude won’t serve you well as my wife,” he says, his tone icy.
“I won’t be your wife,” I say, my voice rising.
“Enough!” Vittorio’s voice thunders through the room, silencing us both. He steps closer, his eyes burning with fury.
“You will marry Lorenzo,” he says, his tone low and dangerous. “You will do as you’re told. And you will ensure that Elias is acknowledged as Lorenzo’s heir.”
I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest. “What?”
Lorenzo smirks, crossing his arms. “It’s a reasonable condition. If I’m to take you and the boy in, he’ll need to bear my name. He’ll be raised as my son, under my rules.”
“No,” I say immediately, shaking my head. “I won’t allow it.”
Vittorio steps closer, his hand lashing out before I can react. The sharp sting of his slap echoes through the room, and I stumble back, clutching my cheek.
“You will behave,” Vittorio hisses, his face inches from mine. “Do you understand me?”
Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I straighten, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as I can muster. “I’ll never let you take Elias from me.”
Vittorio’s lips curl into a cruel smile. “You’ll do whatever I say, Aria. Or Elias will suffer the consequences.”
I bite back a sob, my hands trembling at my sides.
“Good,” he says, stepping back. “Now, fix yourself up. You look like a mess.”
Lorenzo chuckles, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, my dear.”
For a moment, I consider giving up. Maybe it would be easier to submit, to play the part they want me to play. But then I think of Elias—his bright eyes, his innocent smile, his tiny arms reaching out for me.
No. I can’t give up. Not for his sake.
I wipe my tears, taking a deep, shuddering breath. There has to be a way out of this. I don’t know how or when, but I must believe that something—someone—will save us.
The two of them leave, the door slamming shut behind them. I sink to the floor, the tears I’ve been holding back finally spilling over.
My cheek throbs where Vittorio has struck me, but the physical pain is nothing compared to the ache in my chest.
The door creaks open, and my heart sinks. Vittorio strides in for the second time, his face a mask of cold authority.
“You’re still not ready?” His sharp gaze sweeps over me.
“I want to see Elias,” I say, my voice trembling but firm.
Vittorio’s expression darkens. “That is not part of our arrangement, Aria. You’ll see him when I say so.”
I stand, my fists clenched at my sides. “He’s my son. I have the right to see him.”
“You forfeit your rights when you defy me,” Vittorio snaps, stepping closer. His towering presence makes the room feel suffocating. “You’ll do as you’re told, or you’ll regret it.”
My stomach twists, but I refuse to back down. “Please, just let me see him. Just for a moment—”
“No,” he interrupts, his tone final. “This conversation is over. Sit down and let the maids finish their work.”
He turns to the maids hovering near the corner. “Hurry up. We don’t have all day.”
Without another glance at me, Vittorio storms out, slamming the door behind him.
The moment he’s gone, I turn to the maids, desperation clawing at my chest. “Please,” I beg. “I need to see my son. Just tell me where he is.”
One of the younger maids looks away, clearly uncomfortable. The older maid, a stern woman with tightly tied hair, shakes her head.
“We don’t know, Miss Aria,” she says. “He’s been kept somewhere secure.”
My legs wobble, and I collapse onto the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands. “Please,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “He’s all I have left.”
The younger maid hesitates, glancing at her companion before speaking softly. “Miss Aria, I... I might know something.”
My head shoots up, hope igniting in my chest. “What? What do you know?”
The older maid shoots her a warning look. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Maira.”
Maira wrings her hands nervously. “I don’t know much,” she says quickly, her voice barely audible. “But I heard some of the guards talking. They said Elias is being kept in one of the private wings of the estate. Somewhere close to the west gardens.”
“The west gardens,” I repeat, clinging to the shred of information like a lifeline.
“But that’s all I know,” Maira adds, taking a step back. “I don’t know exactly where or how to get there.”
Tears well in my eyes again, but this time they aren’t entirely of despair. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“Don’t do anything reckless,” the older maid says sharply, crossing her arms. “You’ll only make things worse for yourself—and for your son.”
I nod, my mind racing with possibilities.
Maira steps closer, her voice a low whisper. “Miss Aria, if you want to protect Elias, you need to cooperate. Do what they say, at least for now.”
I hate how much sense she makes. Vittorio’s wrath will only worsen if I act impulsively. I can’t risk Elias’s safety.
Swallowing my pride, I nod again. “I’ll cooperate,” I say, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
“Good,” the older maid says, motioning for me to sit back down. “Now, let us finish getting you ready.”
The maids are relentless. Their hands work swiftly, dabbing at my tear-streaked face, brushing my hair back into perfect waves, and reapplying makeup over my swollen eyes.
“There,” one says, stepping back to inspect her work. “You look radiant.”
I barely hear her. I stare blankly at the mirror, my reflection unrecognizable. My face is painted with a serene, bridal glow, but my eyes betray me, red-rimmed and hollow.
“Miss Aria,” one maid murmurs, her voice trembling, “please don’t cry again, or we’ll have to start over.”
I swallow hard, forcing the tears to stay at bay. What’s the point? My father has made sure I have no fight left in me. He hasn’t even allowed me to see Elias since this ordeal began. The thought of my son, alone and possibly frightened, gnaws at me, but I have no power to resist. Not yet.
Moments later, my father enters, his eyes scanning me critically. His expression softens, and he nods approvingly.
“You look beautiful, Aria,” Vittorio says.
I don’t respond, my lips pressed tightly together.
“You’ve done well,” he continues as though my silence doesn’t matter. “I’m proud of you.”
A bitter laugh bubbles in my throat, but I hold it back. Proud? Is he proud of breaking me? Of selling me off to secure his power?
“Let’s go,” he says, offering me his arm.
Numbly, I take it, letting him lead me out of the room and down the grand staircase. The house is eerily quiet, the usual bustle replaced with an oppressive tension. Outside, a sleek black car waits for us.
The drive to the venue is silent. My father seems at ease, his posture relaxed as he stares out the window. I, on the other hand, feel like I’m suffocating. My hands clench into fists on my lap, my nails digging into my palms.
When we arrive, the venue is a picture of perfection. Rows of elegant chairs line the aisle, adorned with white roses and soft golden ribbons. Guests murmur quietly, their faces a mix of curiosity and anticipation.
“Head up, Aria,” my father whispers sharply as we exit the car.
I obey, my movements mechanical as he guides me inside. My heart pounds with every step.
“You’re doing the right thing,” Vittorio says softly as we reach the entrance to the ceremony hall. “For your son. For your family.”
I don’t respond.
The music starts, a gentle melody. My father takes my arm again, leading me down the aisle.
The room blurs around me, the faces of the guests blending together into a sea of judgmental stares. All I can see is Lorenzo, standing at the altar with a smug smile, his dark eyes gleaming with triumph.
When we reach the front, my father places my hand in Lorenzo’s, his grip firm and commanding.
“She’s yours now,” he says, his voice low but audible to both of us.
Lorenzo’s fingers tighten around mine, and I have to fight the urge to pull away.
The officiant begins speaking, his voice a distant hum as I try to steady my breathing. Lorenzo’s vows come first, his tone dripping with false sincerity.
“I vow to protect you, to cherish you, and to provide a life of stability and honor for you and your son,” he says, his words carefully crafted to appeal to the audience.
I want to scream, to shout that he’s a liar, that this is all a farce. But I stand there, silent and unmoving, as the officiant turns to me.
“And now, Aria, your vows.”
I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. My heart races, panic surging through me.
Suddenly, the heavy doors at the back of the hall burst open with a resounding crash. Gasps fill the room as heads turn to see who has dared interrupt the ceremony.
My breath catches in my throat as I see him.
Bane.
He stands in the doorway, flanked by his men, his presence commanding and electrifying. His eyes lock on Vittorio, a predatory grin spreading across his face.
“Vittorio!” he roars, his voice echoing through the hall like thunder.
Before anyone can react, chaos erupts. Bane and his men charge forward, their movements swift and precise. Guests scream, scrambling to get out of the way. Vittorio steps in front of me, his expression twisting into one of fury.
“Stop this madness!” he shouts, but Bane is already closing the distance.
Lorenzo grabs my arm, yanking me behind him as he tries to shield me. But I can’t take my eyes off Bane as he grabs Vittorio.
"Long time no see, brother-in-law.”