52. Serafina
CHAPTER 52
Serafina
T he past few days have been a whirlwind of chaos and tension within the walls of my home. The confined space I am forced to call my cage feels even more suffocating with an intensity that weighs heavily on my shoulders. My family shields me from the outside world, but I can sense the significance of recent events.
My guards are on high alert, moving with a sense of urgency and preparedness that speaks volumes. It's as if they're bracing for a battle. Even in their stance around me, I can feel the tension and anticipation throbbing through the air like a palpable force. Something big is happening outside these gilded walls, and I fear that I will not be able to escape its grasp.
With nothing else to do, I keep myself occupied by engrossing myself in the latest books on caring for the notoriously temperamental anthurium warocqueanum plants. Their stunning emerald green leaves can grow up to six feet in length at their peak, making them a visually striking addition to any tropical garden. As I delve into the intricate details of their care, my mother enters my room.
"Serafina, we need to talk." I reluctantly set my book aside and motion for her to join me on the plush, velvet-green couch facing the large arched windows. The warm beams of sunlight filter through the panes, casting a soft glow over the room.
"You, my dear, are to wed Lucas in a few days," Isabella says, her voice as cold and final as a tombstone.
I blink, trying to absorb the words that hang in the air like a death sentence. "Mamma, you're kidding, right?"
"Non fare domande," she snaps, her gaze slicing through me like a knife. "Do as you're told."
"Ma perché? But why? This makes no sense!" My heart pounds against my ribcage, a wild bird trapped in a cage. I search her face for any sign of softness, some maternal warmth, but find only steel.
"Le ragioni non ti riguardano," she says that the reasons don't concern me, her tone brooking no argument. "This is the way it must be."
"That's it? No explanation?" I feel the heat of my anger rise, mixing with the icy dread pooling in my stomach. "You expect me to just accept this?"
Her words cut through the air like a knife, sharp and commanding. Her sitting stance is tall and poised, her elegance a stark contrast to my trembling form. I take deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves as she continues, "Prepare yourself," she says with authority, "The wedding dress designer will soon arrive with a wide selection of dresses for you to try on. Hair and makeup trials will happen after."
"Prepare myself?" I repeat, incredulous. "As if I'm just a bargaining chip to be handed off to the highest bidder? Do you even know who he is? How can you just marry me off to someone who is probably trying to hurt our family?"
"Enough, Serafina." Her voice is a whip, cracking through the room. "We all must do things we don't want to do at times. Besides, weren't you in love with him just a few months ago?"
She turns to leave, her heels clicking on the marble floor, each step echoing in the void she's leftbehind. Trepidation and rage swirl inside me, a tempest of emotion I can barely contain. "And about Lucas’ reputation, you mu dear, know nothing. You’ll just haver to trust that this decision is not only for the greater good of the family, but also in your best interest."
Frustration and anger bubble up inside me as I mutter under my breath, sinking into my couch. The weight of my thoughts feels heavy on my chest as I think about the injustice of my situation. If only I had been born a man, none of this would be happening. I wouldn't be a mere pawn in these games, manipulated and controlled by those who hold power over me.
The air feels thick and suffocating as I think about the man who deceived me with false promises of love and a future together, only to leave me stranded in the middle of nowhere. The bitterness and betrayal still linger in my heart as I imagine being tied to him for eternity. But admitting this to anyone, especially to my mother, also means facing their judgment and wrath, and I am not ready for that kind of punishment. The room seems to close in on me as I struggle with these conflicting emotions, the weight of my secret heavy on my shoulders.
What could Lucas possibly want from me now? What does he have to gain from marrying me? And the audacity, after all the pain he caused me. Does he really expect me to pretend like he didn't break my fucking heart?
Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away. There's no time for weakness, not when I'm about to be thrust into another battle for control over my own life.
I throw open the window, needing air, needing space. The cool night breeze brushes against my skin, carrying with it the scent of the ocean. It's calm outside, deceptively so, considering the storm brewing in my chest.
"Pinche cabrón." The words fucking bastard slip out of my tongue like venom, the bitterness coating every syllable. Lucas always had this way of making me feel... seen. Understood. But in the end, he was quick to flee when faced with any real challenges.
As I allow anger and hurt coursing through my veins, I can't help but wonder what exactly my family stands to gain from this arranged marriage. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.