love

I am happily lost in the pages of my latest borrowed novel when the door to our bedroom creaks open. My fingers still in the soft sheets, anxiety prickling at the back of my mind.

Lucian strides in, his broad shoulders tense, his jaw set in a grim line. My easy smile falters. Something is wrong.

I close my book and set it on the nightstand, watching him carefully. He doesn’t speak right away, inhaling deeply as if bracing himself for something unpleasant.

“I need to talk to you,” he says at last, his voice low, grave.

Gone is the quiet warmth of yesterday, the easy affection we shared. My stomach tightens.

“What’s happened?” I ask, forcing my tone to remain light, unconcerned, though my heart is already pounding.

His gaze is ice when it meets mine. “I handed your father over to Andrea Morelli.”

The words hit me like a slap.

I blink once. Twice. Three times. A sharp chill runs down my spine.

“You… what?” My voice is barely a whisper.

Lucian doesn’t flinch. “That was the price for Morelli’s allegiance in my fight against Riccardo Agosti and his associates.”

For a moment, I can’t breathe. Then, slowly, a white-hot fury ignites in my veins.

“You promised me,” I whisper, my hands curling into fists. “You swore to me that my papà was ours to protect.”

Lucian arches a dark brow, almost bored with my fury. “Things have changed.”

My pulse roars in my ears. I throw back the sheets and swing my legs over the side of the bed, needing to be on my feet for this. “How could you?” My voice rises, shaking with barely contained rage. “Is this how it’s going to be now? You got what you wanted, so your promises mean nothing?”

His expression darkens, but I don’t stop.

“My desires?” I laugh, bitter and sharp. “This isn’t about redecorating the damn kitchen, Lucian. This is my father’s life.”

“My word is law, Aurora,” he says, his voice like steel. “I won’t be questioned. Not even by my wife.”

A hollow ache blooms in my chest.

I had believed him. I had thought things between us were changing. That we were building something real. That I was more than a pawn in his game.

But I see it now.

I was a means to an end. A bargaining chip. A pretty trophy to parade when it suited him.

“I thought you saw me as more than a deal to be struck,” I whisper. “I thought I mattered to you.”

Lucian exhales sharply, his eyes flicking toward the door. Maybe he’s worried someone will overhear. Maybe he just doesn’t want to deal with this.

“I agreed to show you respect as my wife,” he says carefully. “But you’re not my equal. Don’t think for a second that you can toss commands at me.”

The words are a dagger to my heart.

He doesn’t trust me. Doesn’t see me as his partner.

I nod slowly, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I need some air,” I say, my voice raw. “Before I say something I’ll regret.”

Lucian doesn’t stop me as I yank on a pair of jeans and shove my feet into boots. He doesn’t try to fix this. Doesn’t try to stop me from walking away.

Because he doesn’t care.

Tears sting my eyes, hot and shameful, but I refuse to let them fall.

I storm past him, down the stairs, out the front door, my heart pounding with anger and hurt.

“Enzo!” I bark, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.

Enzo looks up from where he stands beside a black sedan, startled.

“I want you to drive me to the barn. Now.”

He hesitates. “I should clear it with the boss—”

“No need,” I cut him off. “I’m his wife. Or have you forgotten that I’m free to go where I please?”

A beat of silence. Then, with a tight nod, he opens the car door for me.

The drive blurs past in streaks of green fields and blood-red sky.

I barely wait for the car to stop before I’m out, slamming the door behind me. Enzo doesn’t follow. Maybe he knows I need to do this alone.

I push open the heavy barn doors, stepping into the dim light.

The scent of hay, sweat, and something darker—coppery, metallic—fills my lungs.

I exhale slowly.

This is the only place I have left where I feel in control.

And right now, I need that more than I need my next breath.

---

I revised the scene to have a smoother, more immersive flow while maintaining tension and emotional depth. I slowed down the pacing, allowing the emotions to simmer, and refined the dialogue to make it more impactful.

---

I am comfortably nestled in bed, my fingers idly tracing the edge of a book, when the door creaks open. The soft glow of my bedside lamp casts long shadows across the room.

Lucian steps inside, his broad frame nearly filling the doorway. His expression is carved from stone—rigid, unreadable. Something is wrong.

I slowly close the book, setting it aside. “What is it?”

For a moment, he just looks at me, as if weighing his words. Then, in a voice devoid of any warmth, he says, “I handed your father over to Andrea Morelli.”

The world tilts.

I blink, my breath catching in my throat. “You… what?”

Lucian doesn’t flinch. “It was the price for Morelli’s allegiance in my fight against Riccardo Agosti and his associates.”

Each syllable lands like a hammer blow. The sheets beneath my fingers feel suddenly foreign, the air too thick to breathe.

“You promised me,” I whisper, my voice trembling with the effort to contain the storm building inside me. “You swore my father was safe. That we would protect him.”

Lucian arches a dark brow, his indifference like a slap to the face. “Things have changed.”

Something inside me snaps.

I throw back the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed, my body vibrating with fury. “Things have changed?” I echo, my voice rising. “Is that all you have to say?”

His expression remains cold, unaffected. “I did what had to be done.”

I shake my head, a bitter laugh bubbling past my lips. “No, you did what was convenient for you.”

Lucian exhales sharply, his patience thinning. “My word is law, Aurora. I won’t be questioned.”

His arrogance fuels the fire inside me, burning away any last shred of restraint. “Not even by your wife?” I demand.

His jaw tightens. “Especially not by my wife.”

A hollow ache spreads through my chest.

I had believed him. I had thought that beneath the ice, beneath the power games, there was something real growing between us. That I was more than a pawn.

But I see it now.

I was a bargaining chip. A means to an end.

I swallow hard, nodding slowly. “I need some air.”

Lucian doesn’t stop me as I grab a pair of jeans and pull on my boots. He doesn’t try to fix this, doesn’t try to soften the blow.

Because he doesn’t care.

I storm past him, my pulse roaring in my ears. The grand hallway feels suffocating as I push through the front doors and step into the cool night air.

“Enzo!” My voice is sharp, commanding.

The man standing by the sleek black sedan looks up, startled.

“I need you to drive me to the barn. Now.”

Enzo hesitates. “I should clear it with the boss—”

“No need,” I cut him off. “I’m his wife. Or have you forgotten that I have a say in where I go?”

A beat of silence. Then, with a tight nod, he opens the car door for me.

The drive blurs past, streaks of dark trees and crimson sky blending together. I barely wait for the car to stop before I’m out, slamming the door behind me. Enzo doesn’t follow. Maybe he senses I need this.

The heavy wooden doors creak as I push them open. The scent of hay, sweat, and something darker—metallic, coppery—fills my lungs.

Aldo is exactly where I left him.

Suspended from the rafters, arms stretched above his head, his once-pristine clothes now tattered and stained with sweat and dried blood. His swollen eyes flicker open at my approach.

I exhale slowly, a sharp contrast to the whirlwind inside me.

This is the only place left where I feel in control.

And right now, I need that more than I need my next breath.