RiccardoThe basement was colder than normal, the air thick with the metallic scent of iron and a sense of dread. I lingered there long after Ava had stormed out, her defiance echoing in my mind like a curse. No one dared to follow her—not the guards who stood frozen against the walls or my siblings. They all waited for me to give the next order, but I stayed silent.What had she done to me?Why am I feeling this way? I shouldn’t. I should hate her. She and her family is the reason the woman I love is dead. I should be exacting my revenge on her and her family.I made my way upstairs and locked myself in the study, brushing off Bento's curious looks and Steph's worried glances. I poured myself a drink, watching the amber liquid swirl in the glass as if it held the answers I desperately needed.Her face wouldn’t leave my mind—the fire in her eyes mixed with fear, the sharpness of her words. She was scared, and I wasn’t sure how to process that.Actually, that’s not true. I knew exactly
AvaThe dining room felt like a fancy prison, with its elaborate furniture and sparkling chandeliers just reminding me of the life I was being pushed into. Every piece of pricey Hermes and every crystal glass felt like a weight on my chest. I had to resist the urge to squirm under the stares of my father and Riccardo's family as they sat at the long table, casually discussing wedding plans as if it were just another business deal. We had come back to America a few hours ago. I didn’t think it was about the wedding. I had prayed they would say it was all a mistake.But my hopes were shattered when I heard them talk about the wedding.Before long, I’d be stuck in a marriage I didn’t want, to a guy who had already shown he could never love me. I can’t figure out why he wants to marry me. Is this some twisted joke the universe is playing? If it is, it’s definitely not amusing.I could feel the anger bubbling up inside me. The fury I’d been holding onto since that night in the basement whe
RiccardoThe wedding was creeping up on us, and with each day that passed, the pressure felt heavier. I caught a glimpse of Ava as she walked by, her face blank and her posture tense. She seemed so uneasy around me now, and honestly, I couldn’t blame her.The last few days had been filled with this thick, uncomfortable silence. I was pretty good at pretending it didn’t bother me, at acting like it didn’t matter that she couldn’t stand me. But inside, there was this nagging guilt I just couldn’t shake off.That night at her parents' place, something went down. Her dad called her into his office, and I saw the color drain from her face as she glanced at her brother, clearly scared. I noticed Richard shoot a fierce look at their dad, almost like he was giving a warning. When Ava returned, it was obvious something was off. She didn’t say a word to any of us, kept her head down, and hugged herself tightly. When her brother wrapped his arms around her, she flinched.Did her dad hurt her? Or
RiccardoLater that night, I found myself watching Ava from across the room again. She looked stunning without even trying, but the way she carried herself only fueled my anger. I hated that she continued to stand up to me, challenging me at every opportunity.I made my way toward her, each step heavy and purposeful. She noticed me approaching and tensed up, but she didn’t look away."You really think you can keep defying me?" I said, my voice low and threatening.She didn’t flinch at all. “Yes, I do,” she said, her voice unwavering, though I noticed a flicker in her eyes—maybe it was fear. But it wasn’t fear of me; it was fear of what I could turn her into.“You will submit, Ava,” I declared, my tone icy and unyielding. “Whether you want to or not.”Her eyes blazed with anger, that same fire I both despised and found hard to look away from. “I’ll never submit to you, Riccardo. Never. In case you didn’t notice, I’m not Madeline.”Something inside me snapped. Her words hit harder than
RiccardoThe package showed up right after noon while I was buried in work at my desk, trying to tackle the endless list of tasks piling up. At first, it looked like just another ordinary delivery—nothing out of the ordinary. But the moment I picked it up, a chill ran down my spine, and I sensed something was off.As I tore through the thick wrapping, the sound of the paper crinkling filled the air, and a gnawing feeling of dread settled in my stomach. When I finally revealed the contents, my heart dropped: a severed head rolled out onto my desk. I felt my stomach twist as I struggled to process the horrifying sight. Next to the head lay a thin, blood-stained note. I grabbed it, my eyes scanning the jagged, cruel handwriting."Can you save Ava before it’s too late?"The walls of the room felt like they were closing in on me, and I could feel the color drain from my face as my heart raced. These cowards had the audacity to send me this as if it were a joke.But it was far from a joke.
AvaThe room was filled with a warm, golden glow as the first light of dawn streamed through the tall windows. The air was infused with the sweet scents of vanilla and roses, blending with the soft aroma of satin as the final touches for the day were made. It created a gentle, peaceful vibe—so different from the turmoil brewing within me.I stood in front of the grand mirror, surrounded by the soft buzz of activity, with maids and seamstresses rushing around to make last-minute tweaks. They flitted about like shadows, their hands deft and light, ensuring every detail of my gown was flawless. Yet, no amount of beauty in the room could calm the frantic beating of my heart or the cold knot of anxiety that had settled deep inside me.The dress—my wedding dress—was everything a woman dreams of for her special day. The top featured a delicate corset made of intricate lace and satin, hugging my body in ways I never thought possible. It cinched my waist to an almost impossible slimness, while
RiccardoI stood in front of the mirror, gripping the collar of my white dress shirt while I adjusted my cufflinks. Each motion felt intentional and precise. My silk tie was perfectly knotted, as usual, and my dark suit hugged my body just right, tailored to perfection. My broad shoulders filled it out well, the sharp black fabric slicing through the air like a predator on the prowl. The suit was flawless, the white shirt underneath crisp, and the black jacket smooth and polished.My hair was slicked back with just the right amount of gel, dark strands falling into place as they always did, never out of order. The roughness of my jawline was softened by a clean shave I had just done minutes ago. But something felt off. Not today.I wasn’t anxious in the way a man should be on his wedding day. No, I felt something different—distant. Detached. I could sense the weight of the day pressing down on me, but it wasn’t the ceremony that troubled me. It was the reality of the life I was about
AvaThe ceremony was about to start any moment now.A gentle knock interrupted my thoughts. Before I could reply, the door slowly opened, and Amara De Lucca stepped in.Her arrival instantly changed the atmosphere in the room. Dressed in a stunning dark green gown that sparkled under the lights, she moved with a quiet elegance. Her grey eyes softened when they met mine."Can I have a moment with you?" she asked softly.I nodded, holding still as she came closer. She reached out to adjust a loose strand of my veil, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders."You look absolutely beautiful, mio figlio," she said, her smile warm yet carrying an undertone I couldn't quite identify."Thank you," I replied, my voice feeling small.She took a step back, her hands neatly clasped in front of her. "I wanted to talk to you before you leave this room. There’s something important you need to know." My heart raced at her serious tone, but I tried to remain calm. "What is it?"Amara paused, her gaze
RiccardoThe next day unfolded slowly, a calm before a storm. I could tell by Ava's behavior; she was deliberately trying to provoke me with a look, a word, or most annoyingly, her body when I least expected it. Her clinginess had intensified after her recovery, and while I was glad for her, I felt completely powerless to change anything. As I helped her with breakfast, her fingers danced on my arm, lingering longer than necessary. She met my eyes with an intense gaze, a captivating allure that was all-consuming."Riccardo," she whispered, her voice playful, leaning in so her lips brushed against my ear. "You're holding back," she murmured, sending my heart racing. She was so near, dangerously so, and I knew I had to resist. Not yet. Later, as we sat on the couch with her legs draped over mine, her body pressed against me, I struggled to breathe. Her eyes were locked onto mine, and I saw that challenge, that daring spark again."You're not even looking at me," she said, her voice low
AvaI'm sitting in the living room, still feeling a bit weak, but definitely stronger than before. I've recovered, yet I'm not the same person I used to be. None of us are. When the door opens, I see my mom first—her face shows concern, and she walks slowly and carefully. She's holding it together, but I can tell she's struggling inside. "My baby girl," she whispers, her voice trembling as she approaches me. She doesn't need to say more. Her arms wrap around me in a warm hug, and I lean into her, soaking in the comfort of her presence. It's been ages since I've let her hold me like this, but right now, it's the only thing keeping me from breaking down. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea. I couldn't keep you safe." "You didn't know," I reply gently, pulling back to meet her gaze. "It wasn't your fault, Mama. No one is to blame but him. He was always a threat. And I—I had to look out for myself. We all did what we had to do." Richard wa
AvaIt's been a few weeks since I got out of that bed, and now every morning feels like a little win. I'm moving a bit quicker, standing a bit taller, and somehow, despite everything that’s happened, I’m starting to feel like myself again. Not the shattered version I was a few weeks back, but someone who can reclaim some control. Right now, I'm perched on the edge of Riccard's bed, slipping on the slippers he insisted on getting for me. He's at the desk across the room, busy with work. He’s always working, but he’s also always there for me. Watching, guiding, helping. It can feel a bit overwhelming at times, but I can’t deny that I need it. "You good?" His voice is soft, but it’s always filled with concern, always picking up on the little changes in me—like today, when he noticed me walking across the room without flinching. "I’m good," I reply, standing up and heading toward him, trying to act casual, even though my body is still protesting. Riccardo gives me that unreadable look o
AvaIt felt like everything in that moment—the struggles we had faced and the bond that had only grown stronger because of it. We weathered the storm together, and nothing could come between us. "Ava?" A gentle voice pulled me from my thoughts. It was Steph, standing by my bed, her eyes filled with concern and maybe a hint of regret or guilt? She hadn’t been there during the factory incident, but she was still part of the chaos that led to this. Yet, having her here was comforting. "How are you feeling?" The pain was there, dull but ever-present. My body felt like it had been through a tough battle, every muscle aching, reminding me of what I had endured. But it wasn’t just the physical pain—it was the nightmares, the dark memories of the men who took me, my father’s cold gaze, and the haunting recollections of the fight. Escaping them was tough. Every time I shut my eyes, they flooded back, as if I were still trapped. I managed a weak smile, trying to hide the exhaustion and lingeri
RiccardoThe room was so quiet it felt heavy, but I had come to love this stillness ever since Ava came back home and into my life. The gentle sound of her breathing and the steady beat of her heart were the only things that kept me anchored. She was here, alive, and that was what truly mattered. I stayed close to her, even though I was completely worn out. She had faced so much, and the least I could do was ensure she felt safe. Ava was still fragile, on the mend from everything she had endured. I was there to make her comfortable, whether it was fetching her a drink, wrapping her in a blanket, or just holding her hand. Steph and Bento were always around, checking in on her, hovering protectively as if they could sense the lingering tension. Slowly, Ava's eyes opened, adjusting to the soft light streaming in. She looked drained, but the pain in her eyes was beginning to lessen. Still, I knew she needed time to heal, not just physically but emotionally too. “Hey,” I said softly, tuc
AvaI felt like I was sinking, not in water but under the heavy silence, the beeping machines, and the dull pain in my body. My eyelids felt so heavy, as if they were resisting opening, and even the slightest movement shot sharp pain through me. I blinked slowly, trying to focus on my surroundings. Bright white walls enclosed me, and the strong smell of antiseptic filled the air. Machines quietly hummed beside my bed, with tubes and wires connected to my arms and chest. The cold hospital sheets pressed against me, and the steady beeping of the heart monitor was a constant reminder that I was still alive—just barely. A soft murmur of voices in the background made me tense, my thoughts cloudy as I tried to figure out where I was. My fingers twitched, realizing they were attached to an IV drip, a line of saline keeping me stable. My head felt stuffed with cotton, and I struggled to breathe through the pain that gnawed at every part of me. “Riccardo…” I whispered, my voice barely a cro
RiccardoThe waiting room felt like I was in hell. I was pacing the cold, clinical floor, my thoughts racing uncontrollably. Ava was in surgery, losing blood fast. I could still hear her screams and feel the warmth of her trembling body in my arms, my hands stained with her blood. Those images haunted me—the sound of her breath catching, the quiver in her voice as she fought to stay conscious. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was meant to keep her safe. Maybe I was a failure. My team of expert doctors had rushed her into surgery the moment we arrived, and they were working hard to save her. But with every tick of the clock, time felt like it was dragging on forever. “She’s losing too much blood,” the lead doctor had told me earlier, his tone heavy with determination. “We’re getting her ready for surgery, but… Don, it’s a critical situation.” Those words didn’t register. Not Ava. I couldn’t accept that. I wouldn’t lose her—not like this. I tried to suppress the guilt, the ange
RiccardoBound to a chair, her face bruised and her body bloodied. Her hair was a tangled mess of dirt and sweat, hanging limply around her face. But her eyes... they still sparkled with that fire, that will to fight. A chill ran through me. She was weak—too weak—but she was alive. She was still breathing. I rushed over, my hands shaking as I cut the ropes that held her captive. Bento was right there with me, working fast, but I could feel time slipping away. "Ava," I whispered, my voice thick with relief. "You're safe now. We're getting you out of here." She didn’t reply immediately. She was breathing heavily, pain etched on her face, but I could see the strength in her eyes. Despite everything they had done to her, she wasn’t broken. She looked at me, as if trying to say something, but her words were lost in a cough. "You’re gonna be okay, Ava," Bento said gently, helping her to stand. I supported her, my hands on her waist, but I was taken aback by how little strength she ha
RiccardoIt's been three agonizing days since Ava was taken. I haven't slept or eaten, and nothing else matters but getting her back. Time feels like it's dragging on, each minute more painful than the last. Every time my phone buzzes, my heart races, but nothing compares to the moment I heard her voice. I was in the dining room, looking at the map of the city on the table with my team around me, searching for any clue. Then my phone rang with an unknown number. My heart raced, but I picked it up without thinking, desperate to act. “I have your precious wife,” the voice said. Before I could reply, I heard her voice—faint and distorted, but undeniably Ava. “No!-Riccardo!” Her fear and pain hit me hard, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. Then the line went dead. That sick bastard wanted me to hear her cries. I promised her I'd come for her, no matter what. The silence after that was unbearable, and I gripped my phone so tightly that I felt it start to crack in my hand."Track that