The Rules

Evelyn

Sofia's words lingered in my mind long after she left. "There are things you don't know about Alessio. Things that could get you killed."

What had she meant? What was Alessio hiding? And why had she warned me? I wanted to chase after her, to demand answers, but I knew it wouldn't do any good. Sofia was as much a mystery as her brother, and I had no idea if I could trust her.

I spent the rest of the night pacing the room, my mind racing with questions. Sleep was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Alessio's cold, calculating gaze, and heard his voice echoing in my mind. *"Don't think about running. If you do, I'll make sure your father pays the price."*

When the first rays of sunlight crept through the balcony doors, I was still awake, my body tense and my nerves frayed. A knock at the door made me jump, my heart pounding as I turned to face it.

"Come in," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

The door opened, and a maid stepped inside, carrying a tray of food. She was young, maybe in her early twenties, with dark hair and a timid expression. She set the tray down on the table and glanced at me nervously.

"Good morning, Mrs. Romano," she said, her voice soft and hesitant.

I flinched at the name. Mrs. Romano. It sounded wrong like it belonged to someone else.

"Please," I said, forcing a smile. "Call me Evie."

The maid nodded, but she didn't say anything else. She just stood there, her hands clasped in front of her, waiting for me to dismiss her.

"What's your name?" I asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Maria," she said, her voice barely audible.

"Maria," I repeated, nodding. "Thank you for bringing this."

She nodded again and quickly left the room, closing the door behind her. I stared at the tray of food-eggs, toast, fruit-but I had no appetite. My stomach was in knots, and the thought of eating made me feel sick.

I was about to push the tray away when the door opened again, and Alessio walked in. He was dressed in another tailored suit, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever.

"Good morning," he said, his tone, formal and detached.

I didn't respond. I just stared at him, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

Alessio walked over to the table and picked up a piece of toast, examining it as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. "I trust you slept well," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Like a baby," I shot back, my tone, sharp.

He smirked and set the toast back down. "Good. Because today, we're going to establish the rules."

"Rules?" I repeated, my stomach sinking.

"Yes," he said, his gaze locking onto mine. "You're my wife now, Evie. And that means you'll follow my rules."

Alessio stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "Rule number one," he said, his voice low and commanding. "You don't leave this estate without my permission."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off.

"Rule number two," he continued, his tone leaving no room for protest. "You don't contact anyone outside this house. No phone calls. No letters. No emails. Nothing."

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. "And if I break the rules?"

He leaned in his face inches from mine. "Then you'll regret it."

I wanted to scream, to lash out, but I knew it wouldn't do any good. Alessio held all the power, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

"Rule number three," he said, his voice cold and final. "You don't ask questions. About me. About my business. About anything. Do you understand?"

I stared at him, my heart pounding. "Yes," I whispered, my voice trembling.

He nodded, seemingly satisfied, and turned to leave. But before he reached the door, he paused and glanced back at me. "One more thing," he said, his tone softer but no less threatening. "Don't think about running. If you do, I'll make sure you know- who pays the price."

And with that, he walked out, leaving me standing there with the weight of his words pressing down on me.

I sank down onto the bed, my mind racing. Alessio's rules were clear, but they only raised more questions. What was he hiding? And why was he so determined to keep me trapped here?

As I sat there, my eyes fell on the tray of food Maria had brought. Something about it seemed off. The toast was slightly burnt, and the fruit looked... wrong. I picked up a piece of apple and examined it, my heart pounding as I noticed the faintest trace of powder on the surface.

My stomach dropped. Has someone tried to poison me? Or was I just being paranoid?

I didn't know. But one thing was clear: I couldn't trust anyone in this house. Not even the food.