Chapter Two CHIARA #2
The two maids half-led, half-forced me down the hall, every step heavier than the last, until we reached Papa’s study. The door opened. He was already inside. And he looked angry.
“Sit,” he said.
“I’ll stand,” I bit out.
The door clicked shut behind me, sealing us in. Papa didn’t repeat himself. He simply watched me, his expression carved from stone as he moved slowly around the desk.
“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked.
“Yes.” I lifted my chin. “You’re selling me off like I’m cattle, not your child.”
A flicker of irritation crossed his face. “Watch your tone.”
“Or what?” The words slipped out, sharp and reckless. “You’ll hit me again?”
“This is no longer about discipline,” he said quietly. “This is about damage.”
My stomach tightened. “What does that mean?”
He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could see the exact moment he decided I was worth the truth. “You know what I’m about to tell you already.”
Cold slid through me. “No, I don't, Papa.”
“Enough.” The word landed like a slap. He didn’t even need to hit me this time. His gaze locked onto mine. “You didn’t tell me the truth about the night of the dance. You were with a man, weren’t you?”
My pulse stumbled. “Of course not. Whoever told you that was lying.”
“A lie?” His expression shifted. “You expect me to believe you, after you already lied to me?”
Silence lay between us until I finally looked him in the eye again. “I met someone, but nothing happened.”
He laughed sharply. “Met someone. A man?”
“Yes.” My voice hardened. “We just… we just talked. And argued… and he offered me some help when the snake bit me.”
Papa didn’t react. His calm was suffocating.
“He didn’t say you were talking,” he went on. “Or arguing. Or asking for help.”
The air left my lungs. For a second, I couldn’t move.
“He said you were beneath him, in fact,” Papa spit out.
“That’s not true,” I said, the words scraping out of my throat. What the hell?
“He claims he found you alone in the gardens,” Papa continued, each word precise. “That you approached him. That you knew exactly who he was.”
“No.” I shook my head, trying to make sense of things.
“He said,” Papa went on, pointing at me. “That you let him touch you.”
“No!” My voice cracked through the room, raw and furious. Where was he getting this from? Who betrayed me? Could it really have been the masked stranger? Did he sell me out to his boss for a sham of a marriage?
“He’s lying,” I said again, louder now. “I didn’t… none of that happened. I met a man. I didn’t even know his name. It certainly wasn’t The Serpent!”
Papa took a step closer, towering over me.
“Stupid, naive little girl. He described you,” he said. “Your face. Your voice.”
My hands curled into fists. “Anyone could…”
“He described the bite on your ankle,” Papa spit out, more venomous than the snake had been.
I froze. The silence that followed was deafening.
“He said you were already desperate when he found you,” Papa continued. “That you begged for him, almost instantly. That you needed him.”
Heat flooded my face. Rage, humiliation, disbelief, all crashing together.
“A man helped me,” I snapped. “That’s all. I was bitten by a snake, Papa. I could have died if he hadn’t been there.”
Papa’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m sure he helped you. Helped you betray your family, and your purity.”
“No!” I screamed, frustrated. I wanted to tear my own hair out. “No, that’s not what happened! I didn’t know who he was - still don’t.”
“You knew exactly who he was,” Papa accused me viciously. “The man you’ve heard all those stories about. The man your siblings fear for a reason.”
It dawned on me then that I had already met The Serpent. The masked stranger… The snake tattoo on the back of his hand. I should have known then and there.
“I didn’t know,” I rasped, begging him to believe me. “I had no idea he was a… a… killer.”
“He’s Moretti,” Papa seethed. “Leonardo Moretti, the heir. And you should have walked away. But what did you do instead? Spread your legs like some worthless whore.”
“Not true!” I hissed. “He-He helped me. I never knew who he was. We didn’t even… Nothing happened…”
I could feel my voice weakening. I didn’t even believe myself.
Had I not spent all my free time thinking about the masked stranger? The way his lips locked onto my ankle? And how much I wished it had been a different kind of kiss?
“And you expect me to believe,” he said slowly, “that a Moretti man simply walked away from you, leaving you untouched? That you aren’t already damaged goods?”
“I don’t care what you believe,” I shot back. “It’s the truth.”
Another pause. Deliberate. Crushing.
Papa smirked. “The man says you begged him not to stop when he was taking your virginity.”
The words hit harder than any blow. Something inside me snapped.
“That’s enough!” I stepped forward despite the pain shooting up my ankle. “I didn’t beg anyone. I didn’t ask for anything. He put his mouth on me because I was poisoned. Because I needed help!”
My chest heaved. My pulse roared in my ears. Papa just laughed.
“He didn’t touch me anywhere else,” I went on, voice shaking but unyielding. “He didn’t…” I swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “He didn’t do what you’re saying.”
Papa studied my face, a smirk playing on his face.
“I swear it,” I said, quieter now but fierce. “On the last name you think I belong to.”
For a moment, something flickered in his expression. Doubt. Then it vanished. “It doesn’t matter.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s true,” he said. The room tilted. “What matters is that he said it. He’s Moretti. Your word means nothing against his.”
A hollow ringing filled my ears. “You’re choosing to believe him?”
“I’m choosing reality,” Papa shrugged. “Which is you’re ruined. Ruined, unless I suck it up and give you to him, to save what’s left of your reputation.”
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “You’re choosing him over me. You’re choosing lies over truth. And for what? Because it’s fucking easier to just hand me over?”
His eyes went cold. “Watch yourself.”
“You’re selling me,” I said, the realization crashing in, hot and suffocating. “Because that man lied. Because it’s easier than standing up to him.”
“He is not a man you stand up to,” Papa said, low and final. “Moretti orders are to be followed. You will marry him, and I better see some gratitude out of you if you ever want to see your family again. Gratitude, and complete, utter obedience.”
“Then maybe you should have raised me differently,” I shot back. “Because I won’t just lie down and take it.”
His hand lifted fast, but stopped just short of my face. The restraint was worse than the strike.
“You will do exactly what is required of you,” he said. “Because whether you like it or not… you are already ruined.”
The word sliced deep.
“I’m not ruined,” I said, my voice shaking but unbroken. “He doesn’t get to decide that. Nor do you.”
Papa leaned closer, his shadow swallowing me.
“He already did. What respectable man would want you after this?” he hissed. “Who would marry a ruined woman? Nobody will want you. He made sure of that.”
Silence fell between us. Heavy. Final.
My throat tightened. “Where is he?”
He held my gaze, letting the question sit. Letting it sink in.
“You’ll meet your husband shortly,” Papa said.
Ice crawled through my veins. Everything inside me dropped. My breath hitched, sharp and broken, as memory slammed into me. Dark eyes behind a mask, blood on his mouth, his voice in the dark.
Our little secret.
And now the whole world was about to know.