Lyla Rose

________

"Why, her?" I croak out, my voice trembling, but not from fear. From the pain, the rage. "Why?" My eyes burn with the tears I refuse to shed, but I feel them gathering at the corners.

He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. "Because she's going to give me what I need. A fucking heir. Something you can't do." His hands drop from my face, his eyes locking on mine, unblinking. He steps back, his expression devoid of warmth, like he's already gone somewhere I can't reach. "So yes, I'm divorcing you. Tomorrow."

"I will end her and then we'll see what happens. I'll carve her open, and you won't be able to do a damn thing," I warn and I mean every word.

He freezes, his body stiffening as he slowly turns to face me. The playful mask vanishes, leaving only sharp angles and dark intent. "Rose, I swear to God, if you lay a finger on Maria, I will lock you up in the basement and throw away the key. You will never see the light of day again." He jabs a finger in my direction, his eyes wild. "Do not test me on this."

"Oh, yeah? So protective of another woman, huh?" I laugh bitterly, but my chest aches. "Protective of a woman who isn't even your wife yet."

His jaw tightens, his eyes darkening to a stormy blue. "She's going to be my wife. The mother of my children. Of course I'm protective of her." He steps closer, his voice hardening. "Something you would understand if you could carry my baby." He spits the words like venom. "But you can't."

I swallow the sting in my throat, the desperate need for him still clawing at me, but I force it down. "That's not all I am..." My voice trembles, but I push on, "I love you, and I don't want you marrying another woman. Why is that so hard to understand?"

"Why?!" I scream again, my voice hoarse, raw with emotion.

"Because I need a fucking heir! I need a damn son to carry on my legacy!" He shouts back, his anger matching mine, his voice echoing through the walls. "You can't give me that!" His fist slams into the table, rattling everything on it. "I love you, Rose! But I need a damn heir!"

"I don't need your love. Just don't marry another woman." My voice lashes out as I shove him back, feeling a spark of power surge through me.

He stumbles, taken aback by my sudden strength. "Stop it, Rose!" His voice drops, the warning low, but it has no effect. "I'm getting married tomorrow. End of discussion." His hands smooth down his suit as if he's preparing to leave, to walk away from this entire mess. "I have a wedding to plan." He turns his back to me, moving toward the door.

"I won't divorce you." The words fall calmly from my lips, even though my chest is tight, empty inside.

He pauses, then slowly turns to face me, his eyes cold, calculating, as if sizing me up for the first time. "You don't have a choice." His voice is quiet, almost threatening. "I'm ending this marriage tomorrow, whether you like it or not." He steps forward, towering over me now, his presence suffocating.

"I won't sign the divorce papers, so you can't marry Maria," I say simply, shrugging my tiny shoulders, as if the weight of the situation isn't pressing down on me at all.

He stares at me, disbelief creeping into his blue eyes. "Are you kidding me right now?" He laughs, but there's a flash of something darker there. "You think I can't force you to sign?" He leans down, his face so close to mine that I can feel his breath on my skin. "I'm the fucking mafia don, Rose."

"I won't sign it." I chant the words stubbornly, my resolve hardening with each passing moment.

His patience snaps. He grabs my arms roughly, his grip bruising. "You will sign those papers tomorrow morning before I walk down that aisle!" He shakes me slightly, his eyes wild with anger and desperation. "I will drag you kicking and screaming if I have to. Do you understand me?"

"I won't!" I scream, the sound of my voice raw, louder than before, shaking with emotion.

In an instant, he slams me against the wall, his large hand pinning my wrists above my head. His body pressed against mine, his face inches from mine, but there's no comfort, no love, just cold control. "You're acting like a child, Rose." His voice is eerily calm now, and it cuts deeper than any shout. "If you don't sign those papers voluntarily, I'll make you." His eyes darken further as he releases my wrists and loosens his tie. "The basement has no windows."

"You'll lock me up for what? So you can marry a fucking whore, huh?" The words come out as a slap to his face, my anger boiling over. I slap him hard, the sting of my palm matching the pain in my chest.

His face twists with fury, the slap reddening his cheek instantly. He grips my wrist, his fingers digging painfully into my skin. "Watch your mouth, Rose." His voice drops to a low, dangerous growl. "Maria is not a whore. She's a lady."

"I don't care! You're not divorcing me!" I scream louder, my body shaking with rage.

With a vicious motion, he releases my wrist and backhands me across the face, the force sending me stumbling. "Enough!" His roar reverberates through the room, his anger taking over. "You're giving me no choice! Tomorrow morning, you'll be drugged and forced to sign! Then I'm marrying Maria, and you'll be locked in the basement where you can't hurt her. I won't have my useless wife hurting the woman who's going to be the mother of my child!" His footsteps thunder as he storms toward the door. "Deal with it."

Lyla Rose

_____

Tears well up in my eyes as the full weight of his words sinks in. He's willing to lock me up and drug me just so he can marry her. The realization crashes down on me like a wave, leaving me drowning in sorrow and helplessness.

He pauses at the door, his hand on the knob. His breathing is heavy, and for a moment, I think he might turn around, say something different. But instead, his voice is thick, laden with something like regret. "I never wanted it to come to this, Rose. But you're making this impossible." Without another word, he opens the door, stepping out into the hallway. The door slams behind him, and I'm left alone, broken.

I collapse to the floor, my sobs shaking my body, my heart shattering with every sob. I don't know what to do anymore. My mind is a fog, and all I can feel is the weight of impending loss.

Hours pass. Vincent doesn't return. The palace is silent, save for my broken cries. Suddenly, a soft knock echoes through the room, and the door creaks open. It's one of Vincent's most trusted guards, Antonio. "Mrs. Ricci..." His voice is hesitant, soft, almost pitying.

I wipe my face quickly, standing up, trying to compose myself. "Yes?" I reply quietly, my voice hoarse from crying.

Antonio steps in cautiously, closing the door behind him. His discomfort is evident as he shifts from foot to foot, but there's something in his eyes, something sympathetic, even worried. "I've never seen him like this..." He admits, his voice low. "He's really going through with locking you up tomorrow." He pauses, clearly struggling with what to say next.

"He's... having the basement prepared right now. With locks, cameras, everything." His words hit me like a cold slap, but he isn't done. "And he's arranged for the doctor to come tomorrow morning to... administer the sedative." He looks at me then, his expression softens with pity. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Ricci."

"Maybe because I'm just an orphan who has nothing to offer, not even an heir." The words come out broken, whispered into the stillness of the room and the ache inside me deepens.

Antonio's expression softens, his voice quiet and kind. "That's not true, Mrs. Ricci." He steps closer, a faint trace of sympathy in his eyes. "You've given him love, loyalty, obedience. Things money can't buy." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "But he's blinded by power and legacy. He doesn't see what he has."

"It doesn't matter anymore," I mutter, feeling the deep, aching numbness in my heart, the kind that just leaves you hollow.

Antonio nods, his face somber. "I suppose you're right. It doesn't matter anymore." He hesitates before speaking again, his voice barely a whisper. "What are you going to do tomorrow when he locks you up?"

I don't have an answer. I stay silent, my heart heavy, my mind clouded by a numb despair.

"I should go..." Antonio's voice is soft, full of regret. He moves to the door, his hand on the knob, then pauses. "I have orders to report back to him." He turns back to me, his eyes full of pity. "Mrs. Ricci..."

"If you ever need anything... anything at all while you're locked up, you can trust me to bring it to you. Without telling Don Vincent," he gives me a small, sympathetic smile before slipping quietly out of the room, leaving me alone once more.

______

Hours later, the morning sun is bright, slicing through the curtains with sharp rays that only make the coldness of the room feel more biting. I stand in front of the mirror, my hands trembling as I pull on a simple white dress. My five-foot frame feels even smaller, thinner than I've ever been. My fair skin has a ghostly pallor, the delicate curve of my neck now exposed like a wound. My blue eyes, once bright, are dull, the fire that once burned in them extinguished by the weight of betrayal. My chestnut hair is pulled into a messy bun, strands escaping like a chaotic reflection of the mess my life has become.

As I stand there, staring at my reflection, everything I once loved about him, the man who promised me eternity, feels like a distant memory. The man I see now is nothing like the Vincent I married.

And then, as if called by my thoughts, Vincent appears in the doorway, tall and broad, clad in his black wedding suit. His pale skin a sharp contrast to the darkness of his hair. His eyes, once warm and full of love, now look cold and distant. His gaze immediately locks onto my neck, the same neck he used to kiss every morning, now exposed, vulnerable. His jaw tightens slightly, but his eyes quickly flick at the paper in his hand, the divorce papers. The weight of them feels suffocating, just like the distance between us now.

"Sign them," he commands, his voice cold, slicing through the air like a knife.

I turn to face him, my expression a mask of defiance. "You know my answer." My voice is quiet but firm, and I glare at him, all the pain, all the heartbreak, hidden behind a wall of resolve.

His eyes flash with irritation, his patience thinning. He strides forward, holding the papers out to me. "Sign. Them. Now." His voice is unwavering, firm, the command of a man who thinks he's in control. "The doctor will be here any moment to administer the sedative. After you sign, you'll be locked in the basement."

My heart shatters with those words, but I won't let him see it. "Is that what I get for loving you like crazy, huh?" I ask, the question broken, my eyes empty as I look up at him. There's nothing left in me but this raw, unrelenting hurt.

Vincent's expression softens, just for a moment, a flicker of something, regret, maybe? But it vanishes just as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the ice-cold indifference I've come to hate. "Love has nothing to do with this, Rose." His words are like a slap to the face. "This is about power, legacy, the future. Things you can't give me." He pauses for a beat, his eyes dark. "Sign the papers."

"I won't," I repeat firmly, standing my ground, my voice stronger now, the smallest hint of defiance rising in me like a spark in the dark.

Vincent's face twists with rage. He throws the papers onto the table, his fists clenching at his sides, his breath coming in quick bursts. "Fine. Then you'll be locked up soon." He turns sharply as the door opens and the doctor enters, carrying a syringe in his hand. "Give her the shot," Vincent orders coldly, his voice as final as a death sentence. "Now."

Lyla Rose

________

The sight of the needle makes my stomach twist in terror. I stumble backwards, my heart pounding in my chest. He's truly going through with this. He's going to drug me, force me to sign the papers, and lock me away. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut.

Dr Ryder steps forward cautiously, his movements slow and deliberate. He reaches for my arm and I struggle to pull away, my body trembling in fear. "Let go!" I scream, my voice raw, desperate, as I try to fight him off.

But his grip is firm, unyielding. He pulls my arm up gently, but with force, the cool touch of the alcohol swab against my skin sends a shiver down my spine. "This won't hurt, miss," he says, his voice soft, almost too calm for what he's about to do.

"Let me go!" I scream again, my voice frantic as I struggle against Dr Ryder's hold, but he doesn't release me.

The needle presses into my arm, the sharp sting making my body tense. And then, the warmth spreads, slowly at first, and then all at once. My vision blurs, my limbs feel heavy and my thoughts begin to fade, slipping through my fingers like sand. "There we go," Dr Ryder murmurs, his words growing distant as the sedative takes hold.

I limp in his arms, unable to resist, the drug making me compliant, pliable. It feels as if my body is no longer my own, and I'm floating somewhere between consciousness and oblivion.

Dr Ryder gently lowers me onto the bed, arranging my limbs with a tenderness that feels out of place. He turns to Vincent, who stands there, impassive, watching me with unreadable eyes. "It will take effect in about two minutes. She'll be compliant, easy to handle."

Vincent nods curtly, his face a mask of cold determination. "Wait outside," he orders, and the doctor exits quietly, leaving us alone.

I lie on the bed, limp and restless, heat crawling under my skin, my mind tangled and scattered. Thoughts refuse to form. I'm drowning in a haze, lost in fog I can't escape.

Vincent watches me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He picks up the divorce papers from the table and walks over to the bed, sitting down beside me. His presence is suffocating, the weight of his gaze making me feel even more fragile. He takes my limp hand and places it on the paper, curling my fingers around the pen. "Sign," he says quietly, but firmly.

"Vincent..." I whimper, struggling to keep my eyes open. The pen feels foreign in my hand, but it's there, the weight of it pulling my fingers down.

Vincent ignores my weak protest, his grip on my hand firm, guiding my fingers to the pen, forcing me to hold it. "Sign your name, Rose." His voice is soft, coaxing, but there's something ruthless in it. He knows I'm too drugged to fight back. He presses my hand onto the paper, and I feel the pen moving, tracing out the first letter. "R..." he prompts, his voice steady and authoritative.

"Vincent... I love you," I whisper, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. Even in this haze, even as my body betrays me, my heart still belongs to him.

For a brief moment, I see something in his eyes: Pain? Regret? But it's gone in an instant, buried beneath the ice of his resolve. He continues to guide my hand, his voice almost tender, but it doesn't reach me. "I know, but now you've signed the divorce papers. It's done." His words are soft but final.

I feel myself slipping away, my breathing shallow and uneven. I close my eyes, the darkness swallowing me whole. And then, everything fades.

____

I wake with a start, gasping for air as the remnants of the drug still cloud my mind. Is it night now? I can barely remember; everything is a haze, like fog swirling around me, suffocating me. But then, the pieces fall together. He drugged me. The papers... the divorce papers. I signed them, didn't I? My heart stutters, panic rising in my chest. Did I?

I scramble to my feet, my legs weak beneath me as I stumble toward the stairs, my breath coming in short gasps. I don't even know how I'm still standing, but the terror driving me is stronger than the drug still pulsing in my veins. I make it down to the living room, and the sight that greets me stops me in my tracks. My breath hitches, and I feel my heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

Vincent stands before me, the marriage certificate in his hands, his face cold, unyielding. His eyes lock onto mine for a brief moment, but they hold no warmth, only emptiness. His eyes flick to the woman standing next to him. Maria. A thick blonde woman, radiant in a wedding dress, her smile flawless, as if she's won some prize she never had to fight for. And the guests, his father, his mother, his siblings, and friends, are gathered around them, watching as if this is just another celebration. As if I never existed.

I am truly divorced. My love, my Vincent, my husband, truly divorced me. He married another woman because I was infertile. My mind refuses to accept it, but my heart already knows, there's no denying it now.

I choke out a sob, the agony clawing at my chest. But the words won't come. All I can do is stand there, my whole body trembling, as I realize just how far he's gone, how completely he's erased me.

Vincent watches, impassive, as I break apart completely. My sobs rack my body, and the tears come like a flood, unstoppable. He doesn't move, doesn't react, as he turns back to Maria, who stands beside him, uncomfortable but still smiling beautifully for the guests. It's like nothing has changed for her, and yet everything is crumbling inside me.