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.

Lyla Rose

________

His father approaches him, clapping him on the back proudly.

"Granny..." I whisper, my voice barely above a breath. My body quivers with the weight of my sorrow. "Why didn't you stop this? Why didn't you see what he was doing?"

His grandmother looks at me, her face full of pity, before glancing at Vincent with disappointment in her eyes. But she doesn't speak. She doesn't protest. She keeps quiet, unwilling to ruin the ceremony. She moves toward me, her hands gentle as she wraps an arm around my trembling body, trying to support me, to hold me together. "Rose, sweetheart..." Her voice is soft, regretful. "He made his choice."

I shake my head, my sobs only growing louder, more desperate. "No, Granny... No, no, no..." The word feels like a curse as I whisper it again and again, unable to comprehend what's happening.

Vincent's mother and friends watch, varying degrees of discomfort or understanding on their faces. His sister, Sophia, looks at me with pity, then quickly looks away, unable to watch me fall apart. His mother, busy complimenting Maria on her wedding dress, only serves to deepen the wound in my chest. Vincent's father, however, turns to him, his expression serious and determined. "It's time," he says firmly, like he's permitting Vincent to proceed with something that was never meant to be stopped.

I wipe my face, still trembling. I can barely breathe, but I manage to force myself to stand. Somehow, I find the strength to move toward Maria. I walk as if on broken glass, my legs unsteady, my mind fighting against the drug still clouding my thoughts. I reach her, hoping she'll back off, hoping she'll understand.

"Please, don't... Please don't..." I plead, my voice breaking with desperation. "He's my husband. Please don't be with him... don't take him from me." I know, deep down, that the divorce is final, that the papers are signed. But I can't let go of the tiny spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, she'll back away.

Maria looks at me with guilt and determination battling in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Rose," she whispers, her voice soft but resolute. "He's my husband now."

"No..." I shake my head, tears streaming down my face, my chest heaving with the agony of it all. "Please, Maria, please... don't..."

Maria's gaze flicks to Vincent, who stands beside his father, his face hard, his eyes cold. She sees the finality in him, the indifference that sears through her, and she knows. He's made his decision, and if Vincent Ricci makes a decision, no one can change it, not even God.

She reaches out, gently, almost hesitantly, and takes my hands in hers. "Rose..." she whispers. "He doesn't love you anymore."

I shake my head, unable to process it.

The man who once claimed I was everything, the man who told me I was enough despite being an orphan with no family, no status, has become a stranger. He left me for an illness, for my inability to give him children. And seeing him with another woman, the one who will carry his child, the one who takes the place I was promised feels like someone is stabbing my chest over and over, each blow stealing what little is left of me.

Vincent's father steps forward. "Enough!" His voice cuts through the heavy air, snapping everyone to attention. "The marriage is official. The documents are signed. Vincent is now married to Maria. This ends here."

I wipe my face, my trembling hand pressing against the pain in my chest. I drop to my knees before Vincent. "Please, Vincent, don't do this to me..." I beg, clutching his leg with all the strength I have left, my body shaking with sobs. "Please, Vincent, please don't leave me." "You promised... you promised you'd love me forever. You promised I was the only one for you..." My voice cracks, raw and desperate, every word a knife twisting in my chest. "How can you just... how can you just erase me like this?"

He looks down at me, his eyes flickering for the briefest moment. I see it, a flash of something. Pain? Regret? But then it's gone, and he hardens again. He pulls his leg away from my desperate grasp. "Get up, Rose," he says coldly, his voice unwavering, his command final. "This is over."

"I'm an orphan," I whisper brokenly, my voice a mere rasp. "I have no one except you, and yet you divorced me." My words barely reach him, but I can't stop myself from saying them, from letting him hear the raw pain I've carried for so long.

He looks at his father, who nods in approval. Granny moves toward me, trying to pull me away from him with such tenderness that it feels like a betrayal. "Rose, my dear..." She whispers, pulling me into her arms. "Let him go."

"Granny... I love him..." I sob, looking up at her, my heart shattering under the weight of everything I've lost.

Granny's eyes are full of sorrow, disappointment, and regret as she looks at Vincent, then back at me. She pulls me close, rocking me gently. "I know, darling... I know, but he is no longer yours. He never was," she murmurs, her voice heavy with sorrow. My sobs grow louder, my heart aching at her words. No... it's not true. He was mine, all mine.

Vincent's father clears his throat sharply. "The wedding ceremony will continue. Remove her from the room. Take her to the basement and lock her up. Make sure she never sees the light of day again."

Two security guards step forward, their eyes cold and unyielding, fixed on me like predators closing in. And I realize this is it. I'll be locked away like an animal and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

This world is a cruel place, made for those who take, never for those who love and lose with nothing left to give.

Lyla Rose

________

I sob louder, my body trembling as I hear footsteps approaching. Suddenly, the door slams open and Carter Ricci strides in, Vincent's uncle, the mafia king. He strides toward me with purpose, his eyes burning with an intensity that makes everything else fade. In one swift movement, he scoops me up into his strong, muscular arms.

"Step back," he warns the guards coldly, his voice commanding. The air shifts, thick with his presence. He turns his gaze toward Vincent, growling, "You're no longer my nephew. You're no longer part of the Ricci empire."

Vincent's face turns red with rage as he yells, "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Carter?"

Carter's voice is low, deadly, as he responds, "I'm taking what's rightfully mine, away from this goddamn palace, and away from you."

I can barely breathe, my body on the verge of collapse from the emotional stress and the drugs still coursing through my veins. I limp in Carter's arms, unable to hold myself up. He holds me, his grip firm but gentle against his chest. He presses a kiss to my forehead, soothing me in his arms as he turns and walks away from Vincent, not looking back.

"She's not going back to you, ever again, Vincent," Carter says coldly, carrying me out of the room and into the waiting black sedan. The cool air hits me as the car pulls away. The journey feels endless, my vision darkening and I faint in Carter's lap.

-----

Hours later, I wake with a start in a massive, luxurious bedroom. The silk black sheets on the oversized bed feel foreign beneath my skin. I try to make sense of what happened, but the confusion is overwhelming. I glance around and spot him, Carter Ricci, sitting in an armchair, a cigar resting between his fingers. The room smells faintly of smoke.

The reality hits me hard. I'm divorced. Abandoned by Vincent for being infertile. Alone. But why would Carter, his own uncle, bring me here?

My throat is dry, aching. "Water." I whisper weakly, my voice barely audible.

He puts out the cigar quickly, stands and walks toward the bed. He sits beside me, his presence like a weight I can't escape. Gently, he lifts my head, his rough hands surprisingly careful as he brings a glass of water to my lips. "Shh, drink slowly, princessa," he murmurs, his voice low and steady.

I sit up, my hands trembling as I take the glass. I sip quietly, my body weak. His eyes never leave me, intense, almost possessive, as if he's studying me.

Once I finish drinking, he takes the glass from my hands and sets it down on the nightstand. He's only wearing black boxers, his tattooed body on full display. His muscles are lean, his dark hair messy. His presence is commanding, his gaze sharp. He's tall, almost 6'4". And here I am, on his bed, utterly lost.

"Do you remember anything?" he asks, his voice softer now, but the same unyielding power in it.

I close my eyes, trying to push the memory of Vincent away, but it floods back. The betrayal. Maria. The drugs. The papers.

"He married Maria," I choke out, my voice trembling. "He drugged me, made me sign the divorce papers, because I'm infertile." My words break, and I sob again, the pain overwhelming.

___________

Carter Ricci

__________

My jaw clenches at the mention of Maria's name. I hate that bitch, but I hate my fucking nephew more. Vincent deserves everything that's coming to him. I pull Rose into my arms, letting her cry against my chest, feeling the tremors in her body. I hate seeing her like this. I hate the pain she's carrying, pain caused by my nephew.

"Stop crying, Rose," I murmur, my voice low, almost gentle, as I stroke her hair, trying to soothe her even though my own anger boils beneath the surface.

She sobs harder, trembling against me and pulling away slightly. She wipes her face, but her hands shake. Her voice cracks as she speaks, "I want to go back to London."

Her words hit me like a punch, a quiet plea that twists something inside me. The last thing I want is for her to feel abandoned, and even less so for her to leave. My grip tightens around her waist, pulling her back against me before she can pull further away. I look down at her, my dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that makes the air thick between us.

"No," I say simply, my voice low and commanding, as I watch a tear fall down her cheek, each drop like a knife to my chest. My stubbled jaw ticks as I fight the urge to hold her tighter, to tell her that I would never let her go. But I can't say that, not yet. Instead, I watch her, my expression hardening, and repeat, my voice firmer now, "You're not going anywhere."

________

Lyla Rose

________

"Why not?" I ask, wiping my face. I was born in London and raised in an orphanage. I worked hard to rent an apartment, coding for a software company. It helped me cope with being alone, with surviving in a world that didn't care. But I was stupid, stupid for coming to Italy, stupid for falling in love with Vincent, the man who shattered my heart so easily. Now I have nothing left here. I know I have to go back. Away from this hell. Away from people who never chose me.

Carter's hand shoots out, gripping my chin firmly, forcing me to meet his heated gaze. His dark eyes blaze with something I can't quite decipher: obsession, hunger, possessiveness, all tangled together. It's all too much, too intense.

"You have me," he growls, his thumb tracing my bottom lip roughly, his touch sending a strange jolt through me. "London is behind you now, Rose."

I feel my chest tighten, the weight of his words pressing down on me. London? Behind me? Can it really be that easy to leave everything I've ever known?

"You're his uncle, his blood," I snap, frustration bubbling up. "Why should I trust you? Besides, I'm your nephew's ex-wife. I don't have any reason to be with you." I try to pull away from him, my heart racing with a mix of fear and anger, but he doesn't let me.

In one swift motion, he forces me to straddle him, his hands gripping my hips as he leans back against the headboard. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat.

He smirks darkly, his hands possessively holding me in place. The smell of his cigarette-laced breath fans over my face, mingling with the heat between us. "Because, unlike that piece of shit nephew of mine, I actually give a fuck about you," he growls. His voice drops, low and almost threatening, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Let go of me," I whimper, struggling slightly, trying to pull away, but his grip tightens painfully around my hips, pulling me flush against him. I can feel something hard pressing against me through his boxers, and it sends a wave of discomfort and confusion over me.

"Make me," he dares, his dark eyes challenging me to fight back, to resist him.