CHAPTER TWO

GIANNA’S POV

     The silence in the house was loud.

     Not the kind that invited peace, but the kind that pressed in on my chest, reminding me that no one was coming. No one was listening to my silent prayer and no one cared.

     Three days had passed since my father announced he would marry me off. I’d rather see it as him trading me away like a deal he has been waiting to put on paper. No explanation, no warning. Just him breaking the news to me not caring about the way it cut through my skin sharper than a blade.

     I sat curled on the edge of the large chair near my window, knees curled up against my chest, as I stared at the empty driveway like it could offer me answers. The gates remained closed, the guards walking all around the house, looking quite numbered than I remember. I guess my father hired more of them after he found out about my escape.

     I used to play in that driveway. Back when Mama was still around. Back when my father smiled sometimes. Back when I thought

love filled this house. I remember her laugh, the way it warmed the hallway before I even saw her. The soft scent of her perfume lingered on my pillow when she tucked me in. I never imagined her ever leaving.

     But she did.

     They told me she died. Repeating over and over,  as if it would make it real. But I never went to a funeral. Just her room cleared out overnight, every memory of her being in this house gone like she was never a part of us. 

     I stopped believing their lies when I snooped around. I wasn’t supposed to find the letters, but curiosity had always been my worst habit. I was around nine or ten when I started sneaking into my father’s office, crawling under his desk and digging through drawers while he was out. It was a dangerous move but yet, the adrenaline in me was strong.

     That was when I found them. Folded notes tucked beneath folders labeled with fake business names. The handwriting was hers, flowing, urgent, smeared in places like she’d been writing too fast. I didn’t understand what they meant back then, not really. But a few words stood out, scattered across pages like breadcrumbs I wasn’t smart enough to follow.

     “Shipments coming from the North. Code EM. And a club in New York named Voyage.”

     Even at that age, I knew something didn’t feel right. Why would my mother be writing like this if they say she is dead? And why hide it? 

     It wasn’t long before my father caught me. He didn’t yell. Instead, he made me kneel for hours.

     A punishment dressed like discipline, like breaking me would make me obedient. It did, till it didn’t. It made me quieter, and more calculated. More determined to find the truth.

     After that day, the letters vanished. Locked away or destroyed. And so did the last shred of softness he had towards me.

     He stopped looking at me as his daughter but rather as a tool for leverage, a liability to manage. And now, I am a prize.

     I pressed my forehead to my knees, trying to stop the shaking in my hands. My heart had been racing and I didn’t even notice. I don’t even know why anymore. Maybe because deep down, I know I am going to be tied down by tradition with this marriage. Maybe because I know it isn't just a marriage.

     I stood, crossing the room as I slowly opened the closet, eyes locking on the suitcase I hadn’t touched for years. A part of me still clinging to hope.

     But as I reached for it, a sharp ache lanced through my ribs. My body remembers what my mind tried to bury.

     The memory comes crashing down on me. Cold metal all around me. Darkness filled with screams.

     No, his screams. Marco’s screams are all I can hear.

     I swallowed hard, backing away from the closet. The air in the room thickened, shrinking, closing in on me. My fingers clawed at the curtains, yanking them open for light as my lungs fought to catch a full breath. I hate small spaces, hate the dark, and most of all, hate the silence that comes with it.

     Because silence to me always comes before pain.

     I didn’t let myself fall apart. I’d done that already, behind closed doors where no one could see. But I can’t ignore the memories anymore, they keep crashing on me like a tidal wave. Even though I had buried it deep. My body still remembers every detail.

     And now I am being given away.

     Only this time, I am expected to smile while it happens. 

     But I have to find a possible way out of this house. And fast.

      I stood at the window, staring into the sky as sunset turned into night, my hands curled into fists as a black SUV pulled into the courtyard. The engine cut off as a huge man stepped out. 

     A couple of minutes later a hard knock echoes through my room, snapping me out of my trance. 

     I took a deep breath, the weight of the silence pressing hard against my chest. Something isn’t right. It hasn’t been right for days. My father has barely acknowledged me like I am a ghost in his house.

     I glance back at the door, my mind racing through all the unanswered questions. And then, the unmistakable sound of the lock on the door clicking.

     I freeze, staring at the door with wide eyes, as horror creeps in. The doors hadn’t been locked before.

     I slowly stepped back as the door dashed open. A strange and unfamiliar face with a large scar on his right cheek stares down at me as his form fills the door frame to my bedroom. It’s the man I just saw outside.

     I immediately realized how much trouble I was currently in, as he dragged me down the hallway.