I sat in silence.
My mind spiraled endlessly.
Why was he here?
And more importantly... why didn't he do anything?
I thought I was hallucinating,
until he leaned close and whispered,
"Mi dispiace, principessa. Perdonami.
Sometimes... you have to disobey to obey."
I didn't understand what he meant—
Not then.
But the words etched themselves into my bones.
I blinked, heart pounding. "How's Papa?" I asked, cautiously.
He didn't answer directly.
Just a soft, "I'm in no position to say that. Just... hang on tight."
Then he gestured slightly, eyes flicking—someone was listening.
I looked around, but saw no one.
He pulled me into a hug.
Something cold pressed against my skin.
Then he walked away.
Rodger's eyes stayed locked on us. Cold. Calculating.
Unreadable.
We left the venue.
No blindfold this time.
I stared out the car window, nerves crawling over my skin.
This wasn't the road home.
It was the road to the airport.
We were leaving the country.
Again.
"Congratulations, wife," he smirked.
"Now... let's go home."
And in that moment—
I knew.
I knew before I smelled the damp cloth.
Before my muscles gave out.
Before my vision blurred.
I was being drugged.
Again.
#Black Out#
Two Weeks Later
I slipped quietly from bed, leaving R-Jay snoring like a maniac.
That lunatic.
In the bathroom, I scrubbed.
Scrubbed and scrubbed.
But I couldn't wash away what hurt the most.
The bruises inside.
If I ever told my story...
I'd call it Severely Bruised.
Because that's what I am.
Bruised in ways no one can see.
I've felt everything—
Pain. Rage. Despair. Rejection. Betrayal.
Now...
I feel nothing.
Once a pawn. Then a star. Then a prisoner again.
A slave in prettier clothes.
Clothes. Food. Jewelry. TV.
All provided.
But never freedom.
Jamey is obsessed with me.
So I play the part. Obedient. Empty. Waiting.
He stirred and reached for me.
"Morning, baby," he said.
"You look ravishing. I've got work in the study—don't cross the limits. Be a good girl, and maybe you'll earn a little date night."
"Okay... master," I whispered, numb.
He pecked my cheek and left.
A Few Hours Later
Gunfire.
I froze.
Again?
Louder. Closer.
Then a voice:
"She's vulnerable anywhere. Search everywhere. She's gotta be here!"
I didn't think—I hid.
Closet. Behind the clothes rack. Barely breathing.
The door slammed open.
"Aria!" someone shouted. Rodger.
I stayed silent. Still.
"I'll kill that bitch myself," he muttered.
"Before I let that stupid Adrino rescue her."
Adrino.
He was here.
He came.
Rodger stepped toward my hiding place—then froze.
Footsteps. Approaching fast.
"Shit," he hissed.
Then bolted from the room.
I exhaled, finally.
Slipping off my slippers for speed, I grabbed the necklace Adrino gave me on our wedding day.
And I ran.
"Adrino! I'm here!" I screamed.
Jay turned. Saw me.
Chased.
I ran harder, faster.
Then—gunshots. Two.
I turned.
Rodger Jamey and Tom Delaney collapsed.
Adrino stood, gun in hand.
Fury in his eyes.
Another shot—Rodger screamed as the bullet tore through his groin.
Then a final one—to the head.
"See you in hell, motherfucker," Adrino spat.
But my heart dropped.
Tom.
My Papa—bleeding.
He took a bullet—for me.
"Papa!" I cried, falling beside him.
"My Aria..." he coughed. "I tried... to protect you. To save you..."
"No! Don't speak like that. Please, Papa—stay with me!"
I pressed my hands to the wound in his stomach, trying to stop the bleeding.
Adrino approached, gently pulling me back.
"Aria... calm down. It's okay—"
"No! Let me go!" I screamed, reaching back to Papa.
He signaled his men to hold me back as he lifted Tom into his arms and ran.
An ambulance waited outside.
Someone had called it.
It didn't matter who.
Papa's life did.
"Please," I whispered to the God I never believed in,
"Please... let my father live."
#Black Out#