Chapter 7

• Chiara
• My eyes fluttered open to complete darkness. I snapped them shut again, reaching blindly for my headlamp, but there was none.
• I sat up straight in bed, but the room spun, and a sharp pain split through my skull, forcing me to clutch my head with both hands.
• “Gosh… it hurts,” I groaned, leaning back against the bedframe.
• “I see you’re awake, wifey,” a baritone voice muttered from my left.
• “Ahhh!” A frightened scream erupted from my mouth before I could stop it, and I fell off the bed with a loud thud.
• My heart slammed violently against my ribs, desperate to escape my body, as my head snapped to the side involuntarily.
• My eyes widened. “Mr… Mr. Vieri?” I stuttered.
• He turned his wheelchair away from the window and toward me, snapping the laptop on his thighs shut.
• “I’ve been waiting. I almost thought you weren’t going to wake up.” He smiled sweetly, something completely foreign to what I knew him for. “Good morning.”
• I swallowed hard. What was he doing in the same space as me? And why did he look so relaxed? That smile—it felt suspicious.
• I crawled backward, trying to put distance between us, my breathing shallow and uneven.
• “What… what are you doing here? How did you get into my room? What happened to me?” I murmured, fear creeping into my voice.
• “My room?” He raised a brow, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.
• My face contorted, and slowly my eyes began to roam around the room.
• I staggered back.
• This looked nothing like my room at the Gallos’ or the slums. It was bigger. Cleaner. Luxurious… better, even.
• “Where am I? What did you do?” I muttered, my gaze refusing to stay still.
• The last thing I remembered was him pointing a gun at my face, forcing me into a marriage I never wanted.
• “You’re home?” He scoffed softly. “Pfft.”
• Home?
• He didn’t actually bring me here while I was unconscious… did he? No. There was no way.
• “Did you kidnap me? Did you—” I stopped abruptly when my eyes landed on the massive mirror on the wall.
• “Ahh!” I screamed. “What did you do to me? What am I wearing? What did you do, you hard-hearted, devilish monster? Murderer!” I yelled, wrapping my arms tightly around myself, my chest heaving.
• “I didn’t do any of the silly things you’re thinking about,” he said, pressing his lips into a thin line.
• “Even though—you took off my—” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
• “Fvck you!” I screamed, yanking at my hair in frustration.
• This devil dared to remove my clothes. He saw my—Oh, fvck it.
• I had lost every ounce of fear in me.
• “Well, I couldn’t let you lie on my bed looking all messy,” he shrugged, like what he did was perfectly normal.
• I facepalmed. “I didn’t ask you to bring me here. And since you did, you didn’t have to use the bed. There’s the damn floor!” I groaned.
• “And what would that make me? A bad host?” He chuckled lightly. “Come on, I’m not adding that to my résumé.”
• I lifted my head slightly. “It’s funny, right? Absolutely hilarious.” I forced a laugh.
• “Well then, how do I leave this damned place?” I hissed. “Oh, there’s the door.”
• He didn’t reply, only reopened his laptop and resumed working.
• I tugged at the new pajamas I was wearing, wishing I could rip them off and erase both the memory and the fact that he had changed me into them.
• I stomped toward the door and twisted the knob. To my horror, it refused to budge no matter how hard I pulled.
• “You’re going to spoil it. Can’t you see it’s locked? Are you dumb?” Mr. Vieri said irritably.
• I bit my lower lip. I wasn’t dumb—I had just refused to accept the reality. He had now confirmed it.
• I raked my fingers through my hair. “Then the keys?”
• “Not like you expect me to just hand them over, right?” He spared me a glance.
• I shrugged stiffly. “Well, yeah. I do. I need to leave.”
• “Wifey, I’m a bit busy right now. Inform me when you’re ready to talk,” he murmured, returning his attention to the laptop.
• I frowned, resting my back against the door. Was he serious? He kidnapped me, locked me in, and was acting like we were having a casual conversation.
• “Mr. Vieri?” I called.
• No response.
• “Mr. Vieri!”
• Still nothing.
• My palms grew sweaty, my throat tightening.
• “Are you deadass?” I snapped. “I fucking have a life! You’re keeping me here for what—your amusement? Whatever arrangement you have with the Gallos should stay with them. I don’t want any part of this!” I yelled.
• Still, he ignored me—as though only his body was present.
• Grinding my teeth, I stormed over, snatched the laptop from his thighs, and flung it onto the bed.
• He sighed and lifted his head. “Ready to talk now?”
• “Give me the damn keys, you devil,” I snapped, reaching into his pockets.
• “The amount of insults I’ve received from you today exceeds everything I’ve heard since birth. And you’ll stop now,” he deadpanned.
• “Give me the keys!”
• “I don’t have them, dumbass.”
• “Then unlock the door! I have things to do!”
• “Uh-huh. Okay, wifey.” He leaned back in his chair.
• “Stop calling me wifey! I am not marrying you!” I stomped my foot. “Open the damn door!”
• He chuckled softly, as if my rage amused him.
• “Well,” he clicked his tongue, “you already did.”
• “What?” I stepped back, frowning. “I already did what?”
• He leaned forward and grabbed a file from the mini table beside him—one I hadn’t even noticed in my rage.
• Without a word, he handed it to me. My hands shook as I opened it.
• My body went cold.
• “It doesn’t have my signature, Domenico,” I said stiffly. “Stop playing.”
• “A fingerprint works just as well, Chiara.”
• “I didn’t give consent! I was unconscious—and if that’s the case, I want a divorce! I’m not spending eternity with a murderer!” I snapped.
• “You gave consent earlier. Before the wedding,” he said calmly. “You signed.”
• I shut my eyes briefly. He was right, and it hurt far more than I wanted to admit.
• I opened them again and threw the papers at him.
• “I changed my mind,” I said firmly. “I want a divorce. Now.”