Chapter 2

• Clara’s head hurt bad. It was like someone was pounding a hammer inside her skull, steady and dull. She groaned a little, her eyes still closed. The air around her smelled weird—clean, but not like home. Not like the coffee and old books smell of her apartment, or even the faint cigarette smoke that always clung to Ethan’s place. This was sharp and new, like a fancy hotel or something. Her foggy brain tried to piece things together. The last thing she remembered was running—running fast down the cold street after everything fell apart. The betrayal, the tears, the black car screeching in front of her. And then… nothing.
• Her eyes popped open, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
• She wasn’t outside anymore.
• She was in a room—a big, shadowy one she’d never seen before. The walls were dark wood, polished and smooth, not like the chipped paint in her little place. Heavy red curtains hung over tall windows, blocking out any light from outside. A fancy chandelier dangled from the ceiling, sparkling with soft golden light. The furniture looked like it belonged in a movie—big leather chairs, a shiny table, stuff that screamed money. This wasn’t Ethan’s messy apartment with its worn-out couch and pizza boxes. This wasn’t anywhere she knew.
• Her heart started thumping hard in her chest. She tried to move, to stand up, but something stopped her. Her hands wouldn’t budge. She looked down and saw thick ropes wrapped tight around her wrists, tying her to the big wooden chair she was sitting in. Her legs were free, swinging a little over the edge, but the chair was heavy—way too heavy to drag or tip over. Panic shot through her like lightning.
• “Hello?” she called out, her voice scratchy and rough. “Is anyone there? Hello?”
• Nothing. Just quiet. Too quiet.
• She yanked at the ropes, twisting her hands back and forth, but they wouldn’t loosen. The rough fibers scraped her skin, stinging a little, but she didn’t care. She had to get out. She had to figure out where she was.
• Then a door creaked.
• Clara froze, her breath catching in her throat.
• A man walked in.
• He was tall, dressed in a sharp black suit that looked like it cost more than her rent. His dark hair was slicked back, neat and perfect, and his face was hard—like he wasn’t someone you messed with. His green eyes locked onto her, cold and piercing, like he could see right through her. He didn’t say anything at first, just walked toward her with slow, steady steps. His shiny shoes clicked on the floor, each sound making her heart beat faster.
• She didn’t know him. She’d never seen him before in her life. But something about him scared her deep down—like a warning bell ringing in her gut.
• “Who are you?” she asked, forcing her voice to sound strong even though she felt like jelly inside. “Why am I here? What do you want?”
• He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he grabbed a chair from across the room, dragged it over, and sat down in front of her. He crossed one leg over the other, leaning back like this was all normal. Like tying people up was just another day for him.
• “You’ve got your mother’s eyes,” he said finally, his voice low and calm.
• Clara blinked. “Huh?”
• She shook her head, trying to figure out what he meant. “What are you talking about? I don’t even know you! Who are you?”
• He let out a slow breath, like he’d known she’d freak out. “No, you don’t know me,” he said. “But I know you, Clara.”
• A shiver ran down her back, cold and prickly. How did he know her name? What was this guy playing at?
• “My name’s Ricardo Moretti,” he said, leaning forward a little. His green eyes didn’t blink. “And I’m your father.”
• The words hit her like a slap. Her mouth dropped open, and for a second, she couldn’t even think. Then a laugh burst out of her—sharp and loud, like she couldn’t hold it in.
• “You’re crazy,” she snapped. “My dad died when I was a baby. You’ve got the wrong person.”
• Ricardo smirked, just a tiny curl of his lips. “That’s what they told you.”
• Her stomach flipped. No way. This couldn’t be true. Her mom had always said her dad was gone—killed in a car crash before she was even born. There’d been a little picture of him on the mantle, blurry and old, and that was it. Clara had never wondered about it. Why would she? Her mom wouldn’t lie about something like that.
• “You’re lying,” she whispered, shaking her head again. “You’re making this up.”
• Ricardo sighed, like he was tired of her arguing. “I figured you wouldn’t believe me right away. But it’s still the truth.”
• Clara glared at him, her mind spinning like a top. “Okay, fine. Let’s say you’re my dad—which you’re not—why would you kidnap me? Why tie me up like this?”
• His smirk faded, and his face got serious. “Because I need you, Clara.”
• The way he said it made her stomach twist into knots. “For what?” she asked, her voice shaking a little.
• Ricardo leaned back in his chair, his eyes growing cold. “You’re going to marry Dante Costa.”
• The room tilted. Clara’s fists clenched tight, her nails digging into her palms. “What did you just say?”
• “Dante’s the heir to the Costa family,” Ricardo said, his voice flat, like he was reading off a grocery list. “They’re our biggest enemies. We’ve been fighting them for years—bad fights, bloody ones. But now we’ve got a chance to stop it. If you marry Dante, it’ll make peace between us.”
• Clara let out a huff of air, halfway between a laugh and a scream. “You’re kidding me, right?”
• “I don’t kid about stuff like this,” he said.
• She shook her head so hard her hair whipped around her face. “No way. You can’t just tell me I have to marry some guy I’ve never met! That’s insane!”
• Ricardo’s eyes darkened, like a storm rolling in. “I can. And I will.”
• Her heart slammed against her ribs. This wasn’t happening. She’d woken up that morning thinking she had a regular life—a fiancé, a job, a best friend. Now Ethan and Sofia had ripped her heart out, and this lunatic was tying her up and talking about arranged marriages like it was the old days. What kind of messed-up world had she stumbled into?
• “I don’t belong here,” she said, her voice rising. “I don’t want anything to do with your crazy life!”
• Ricardo watched her, his face calm and hard. Then he sighed again, like she was letting him down. “I was hoping you’d go along with this easy.”
• Clara squinted at him. “And if I don’t? What then?”
• He didn’t blink. Didn’t move. But his next words froze her solid. “If you say no,” he said, cool as ice, “your sister will die.”
• The air whooshed out of her lungs. “What…?” she choked out, barely a whisper.
• Ricardo’s green eyes drilled into hers. “You’ve got a little sister, Elena. She’s ten years old. And if you don’t do what I say, I’ll make sure she’s gone.”
• Clara’s blood turned to ice. A sister? She didn’t have a sister. She’d grown up alone—just her and her mom in their tiny apartment, eating mac and cheese and watching old movies. Her mom had never said a word about another kid. Was this guy bluffing? Or was her whole life a lie?
• “You’re sick,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
• Ricardo shrugged. “I’m a businessman.”
• Her hands shook as she tugged at the ropes again, harder this time, but they still wouldn’t give. She wanted to scream, to hit him, to run. But she was stuck.
• “Prove it,” she said, her voice loud and sharp. “If you want me to believe you, let me see her. Show me this sister you’re talking about.”
• Ricardo didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he nodded, just once. “You’ll see her eventually. But first, you’ve got to agree to this.”
• Clara swallowed hard, her throat dry as sand. “And if I do? If I marry this Dante guy? What happens then?”
• “Then you’re part of this life,” he said simply. “You’ll figure out how to live in it. You’ll do what you have to, to keep your family safe.”
• Her head spun like she was on a carnival ride she couldn’t get off. This was a nightmare—a real, living nightmare. But if he was telling the truth—if there really was a little girl out there, a sister she didn’t know about—could she say no? Could she risk it?
• Everything she’d known had crumbled in hours. Ethan’s betrayal, Sofia’s lies, and now this. She was trapped, backed into a corner with no way out.
• Clara lifted her head, staring straight into Ricardo’s cold eyes. “Fine,” she said, her voice steady even though she felt like breaking. “I’ll do it. But if you’re lying about my sister—if you’re playing me—I’ll tear your whole world apart. I swear it.”
• For the first time, Ricardo smiled—a real one, sharp and dangerous. “That’s my girl.”