6

Lily

A few minutes after I sit on the couch, the elevator dings softly and Bella steps in, carrying a large luxury shopping bag in one hand and a pastry box in the other. Her smile lights up the room, and I feel an immediate wave of relief.

“I brought your favorite,” she says, holding out the bag like a peace offering. “And your usual—iced caramel latte with oat milk.”

My heart softens. “God, I needed that. Thank you.”

Before unpacking anything, she walks straight over and hugs me tightly. It’s one of those hugs that says everything without words—that she knows this marriage isn’t what I wanted, that she knows I was drowning behind the makeup and the pretty white dress. I cling to her for a moment longer than I should, letting myself breathe again.

From across the open kitchen, Sebastian watches us quietly while sipping his coffee, leaning one arm on the island bar. Calm. Composed. Dangerous.

“I have to go,” he says suddenly, his deep voice slicing through the quiet. “I’ve written my number—it's magneted to the fridge. Call me if you need anything.”

I nod, still tangled in Bella’s arms. He walks over, and without hesitation, he bends down and presses a soft kiss against my cheek. I freeze at the warmth of his lips. It’s brief, almost gentlemanly—but it confuses me more than anything.

Then he straightens, gives Bella a polite nod, and walks out the door without another word.

The moment the door closes behind him, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Bella pulls me toward the couch and we both collapse onto it, setting our coffees on the low glass table in front of us. Sunlight streams in from the massive penthouse windows, making the room feel warmer than it really is. Everything around us gleams with quiet wealth—clean lines, dark furniture, the glint of chrome and marble.

“So,” Bella says, curling her legs under her, “how the hell did all of this happen?”

I stare into my coffee cup, swirling it slightly before answering. “It’s Zane,” I say. “My stepbrother. He owed a ridiculous amount of money to the Cosa Nostra. When he couldn’t repay, he gave me to them… as a transaction.”

Bella’s mouth falls open, but I keep going.

“He told me we were attending a very important party—something political, something vital for his and my father’s reputation. But the moment I stepped inside that Roman mansion, I knew something was off. It wasn’t a party. It was a wedding. My wedding.”

“To him?” she whispers.

I nod. “Sebastian Manchini was standing at the altar in a black tuxedo like he already owned me.”

Bella places a hand on her chest, stunned. “Oh my god.”

I take a sip of coffee. “And now I’m married to a man I hate. A man who searched me at gunpoint because he thought I was a spy. A man who can end my life with a single phone call.”

“What are you going to do now?” Bella asks gently. “Just stay here and play wife? Or do you have a plan?”

I hesitate. Then I whisper, “I want to run. Disappear. But if I make a single wrong move… he’ll find me. And if he does, he’ll kill me.”

She grips my hand. “You’re serious.”

“I am.” Tears sting the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back. “This has to be calculated. I need to gain his trust… find out what he really wants. Then I’ll figure out how to leave without being hunted.”

Bella’s eyes scan my face with worry, then she tries to lighten the mood. “Okay, okay—but let’s not ignore the facts. He’s hot. Like, mafia royalty hot. Tall, dark, broody with money pouring out of his pockets. Maybe just… stay, drink his wine, spend his cash?”

I laugh, the sound tangled in a breathy sob. “You’re terrible.”

She giggles too. “But I made you laugh.”

“Yeah,” I whisper, wiping a tear. “But I’m not that kind of girl.”

“No,” she says softly. “You’re not. You’re brave. And I’ll help you… whatever you decide.”

I nod silently, wrapping my hands around the warm coffee cup.

“I brought some outfits too,” Bella says gently. “There are a few new dresses and some casual pieces you can wear for university. But if you want, I can drive you home to grab your things?”

“No,” I say firmly, shaking my head. “I won’t go back there.”

Bella looks at me with concern, and I lower my eyes to the cup in my hands. “Nobody from there even called me to ask how I’m doing. Not even my dad. It’s like I was never his daughter… like they just sold me away.”

“I get it,” she says softly. “I’m so sorry, Lily.”

A beat of silence hangs in the air.

“Then let’s go out today,” Bella says suddenly, trying to lift the mood. “Lunch, or maybe a spa? Something to shake off all this stress.”

I smile faintly. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

“Perfect,” she grins. “Go get ready!”

I disappear into the bedroom and sort through the shopping bags. I pull out a soft pink summer dress and pair it with clean white sneakers. After a hot shower, I slip into the dress—it hugs me lightly, and for a second, I almost feel like myself again.

We leave the penthouse without a word to Sebastian. He said I’d have space in this relationship—so I take it. Bella calls ahead and books a spa session while driving, her voice chipper as she arranges the details.

The spa is a dream. Candlelight flickers on the stone walls, and soft instrumental music drifts through the air. A glass of red wine finds its way into my hand. I melt into the massage table as warm oils and expert hands work away the tension in my shoulders. Bella jokes between treatments, and we both end up laughing like teenagers hiding from responsibility.

Afterwards, we head to a cozy restaurant. I order Chinese—crispy noodles, dumplings, and spicy tofu. Bella wants Mexican, and soon we’re stealing bites off each other's plates. We laugh, gossip, and for a few hours, life feels lighter.

By the time we reach the mall, the sky outside is already stained with dusk. I grab everything I need—essentials like shampoo, face wash, a new makeup kit, sanitary products. We explore boutiques and I let myself buy little things that make me feel like I have control again: pajamas, soft slippers, a towel in my favorite color, underwear, new shoes, heels, and even a pair of bold black boots. A few casual outfits too—things that feel like me.