CHAPTER 4

Kimberley POV:

I woke to sharp sunlight streaming through the window, forcing my eyes open. Disoriented, I blinked against the brightness. How had I fallen asleep so deeply? I scolded myself—this is unlike me.

A knock came at the door, and before I could respond, it opened. I tensed, bracing myself for the "Don"—the one whose name I didn’t yet know. But the voice that greeted me was female.

“Good morning, ma’am,” she said curtly. “I’m Helen. I’ve been assigned as your personal maid.”

I looked up, my relief barely contained. At least she was younger, with a face that seemed capable of a smile, unlike the stern, older woman who had attended to me yesterday.

“Mr. Fiore requests you come downstairs. He’s expecting you,” she continued. “I’m here to get you ready.”

"Mr. Fore?" I muttered, almost too loudly. "What sort of name is that?"

She stiffened slightly. "Fiore, ma’am," she corrected quickly, then added, “Please, let me help you prepare.”

She looked chatty, eager even, but I swallowed my questions. There’d be time to earn her trust. For now, I needed to keep my thoughts to myself—until I could use her to learn more about the monsters holding me here.

I slid out of bed and walked toward the bathroom, Helen following close behind.

“Don’t,” I said, cutting her off as I reached the doorway. “I don’t need your help here. Just lay out the clothes.”

The bathroom was enormous, easily larger than both my father’s sitting room and kitchen combined. I caught myself comparing the two spaces and immediately pushed the thought away. What good would it do to dwell on what was behind me? My fingers shook as I ran the bath.

By the time I returned, Helen had placed a light floral gown on the bed—a strapless dress paired with a jacket. It was delicate, soft. Strangely beautiful, given the circumstances. I changed silently and followed her downstairs, every step weighed down by thoughts of escape. My eyes roamed, searching for exits, but no clear path emerged.

In the sitting room, I found him. Mr. Fore or whatever sat at the end of the room, reading a newspaper, And I wondered who still reads newspapers these days.

I stood waiting for him to speak.

He finally acknowledged my presence and dropped the newspaper. He lowered the paper and glanced at me. His gaze swept from my dress to my face, unreadable.

“Our wedding is in three days,” he said flatly. “You’ll go with my sister and Enzo to the bridal mall and get yourself a wedding dress.”

I blinked. "A wedding? In ninety six hours?"

“You're not here to plan Kimberley, You're here to marry” He said curtly.

The words sank into me like a stone dropped into dark water. I was about to be bound to a man I loathed, a man who’d taken everything from me.

And your sister?" I asked instead.

"She'll be here by evening."

I made a mental note to be overly nice to his sister, then I will plan an escape or something to just get out of this madness.

I just hope his sister isn't just like him. But I can't stretch my luck, she might just be as evil

He rose from his chair, the movement slow, deliberate. “Don’t play smart, Kimberly. You won’t get far.”

His warning lingered in the air as he walked out, leaving me standing there, helpless.

I couldn’t escape—yet. Not without knowing where I was, how this house worked. First, I needed to learn its layout.

I was going back to my room, I found Helen waiting by the doorway. An idea sparked.

“Helen, how long have you worked here?” I asked, watching her closely.

“Thirteen years, ma’am,” she said, bowing her head slightly.

Perfect. A seasoned servant would know every corner of this mansion.

“Could you give me a tour of the house?” I asked, feigning interest. Desperation edged my voice, but Helen didn’t seem to notice.

“Of course, ma’am. It would be my pleasure.”

She led the way, As I followed her down the grand staircase, my eyes darted to the windows, the doors. Every route a potential escape, if only I had the chance.”

My eyes scanning every room, every hallway. The mansion was enormous, each turn more extravagant than the last. But I saw no hidden doors, no promising exits.

Helen was nice, and a good guide. Showing me places. The mansion was big and we were soon tired. I don't know if it's worth it, 'as I didn't see any "secret door."

Guess I would just have to try to find a way myself. Alone.

I was soon hungry, Helen brought my food to my room after I had a shower. But the sight of the food made my hunger disappear.

How could I eat? My brother was in their grasp, my father dead—had they even buried him? I didn’t know. Was anyone mourning him? And here I was, forced into a marriage with the very man who had destroyed my life.

I stared at the untouched food, my mind spiralling deeper.

I remember The office. Elicia. The debt. Everything. I couldn’t even tell how long I’d been lost in thought until Helen returned to call me for lunch as Mr Fiore requested for my presence. Her eyes flicked to the uneaten breakfast and back to me. She sighed softly, though she tried to hide it.

“I’m not hungry,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

It doesn't have to do with the food," I tried assuring her. "I'm just not hungry."

"Can't he eat alone," I sighed.

Helen retreated sluggishly, looking scared. But I didn't care.

A moment later, the door creaked open again.

I froze.

He was standing there. Mr. Fiore. His eyes swept over me, taking in the sight of me wrapped in only a towel as I had not changed into any cloth since my last shower.

His gaze lingered for a moment too long, and something in his expression shifted. His jaw tightened, his Adam's apple bobbed.

Hey!" I screamed. He stood in the doorway, watching me, as if weighing a decision. Each step he took toward me felt deliberate, like a predator circling prey. My hands flew up, instinctive, protective. 'Don’t touch me!' My voice cracked with panic.

He paused, clearly not expecting my outburst. His movements slowed, the predatory glint in his eyes dimming.

“Get dressed,” he said coldly. “My sister is downstairs.”

And then, just as abruptly as he came, he turned and left.

Kimberley POV

"Place your watch securely. Report any unusual activity to me," I heard Mr. Fiore say on the phone as I descended the steps.

His face was serious, brows furrowed with worry. Whatever was being discussed was far from trivial.

At the bottom of the stairs, a woman suddenly embraced me in a warm hug, catching me off guard. Her perfume was sweet, comforting. For a moment, I wanted to stay in her arms, to forget everything. When she finally let go, I took in her features—blonde hair, bright almond eyes, her smile so easy it seemed impossible not to return it.

“What a gem Leonardo’s bagged for himself!” she said brightly.

I forced a smile. “Good evening.”

“I’m Emiliana. But please, just call me Emily.” She practically radiated happiness, the kind I hadn’t seen since I got here.

“Kimberly,” I replied, my smile straining.

"I can't wait for the wedding," she added, her excitement palpable. I couldn't help but wonder what made her so blissful about the whole thing.

"Let's go shopping!" she urged, taking my arm with enthusiasm.

"You can't go." A thick, cold voice interrupted us.

I turned to see Leonardo.

"Why not?" Emily asked, her tone defiant.

"Reasons best known to me," he replied flatly.

“Enemies lurking around “ he added

"Are enemies not always lurking around?" she shot back, clearly annoyed at his sudden change of plans.

Leonardo shot her a cold glare that silenced her.

“Everything she needs for the wedding will be sent here," Leonardo said, his tone dismissive.

Emily looked hurt, withdrawing her hand from mine. She picked up her bag and pulled me into a final hug, whispering,

"We'll meet again."

As she walked away, I felt a surge of anger within me. I didn’t want the wedding, but escaping this mansion had seemed like my only chance. Now, hope was slipping away.

I watched her leave, the flicker of hope she represented vanishing with her. The wedding wasn’t what I wanted. But if I could just escape this mansion…

I had somehow started to like her.

But what did Leonardo mean by "enemies lurking around"? I turned my attention back to him and found him engrossed in a phone call, his expression serious.

I rushed back upstairs, slipping out of my fitted jeans and pulling on a pair of shorts—something easy to run in. I paused for a moment, heart pounding, wondering if this plan was too reckless. But what choice did I have?

I passed through the hallway like I had done with Helen. I was more focused this time. Not missing chances. Then, I spotted a door to the garage. My heart raced as I noticed the guard. This was it—the moment to escape or get caught. I couldn’t afford to hesitate.

I noticed the guard was talking to someone, and he collected a package. I paid more attention and realised it was a food package.

I felt a pang of sympathy for the guard; he seemed overwhelmed with work and had little time to eat. But my pity quickly faded as a plan began to form in my mind.

"Wow!" I exclaimed as I approached him.

The guard's eyes widened, and he hurriedly tucked the food away, caught off guard by my sudden appearance.

"Eating on duty?" I teased, a playful edge to my voice.

"I'm sorry, madam. I don't usually do this," he stammered, flustered.

"Ah, but today is just an exception, isn’t it?" I replied, a hint of mockery in my tone.

Even I was taken aback by how confidently I confronted him. This wasn't just a game; it was my chance to turn the situation to my advantage.

I'll have no choice but to inform Mr. Fiore," I said, narrowing my eyes. The guard's face paled instantly, and I watched guilt and fear flicker across his features. I had him right where I needed him.

“Please don’t,” he said quickly, the panic unmistakable.

“Depends,” I said, leaning closer, my pulse quickening. “If you help me with something.”

He stood, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. His posture stiffened as if preparing for something he didn’t quite understand.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice guarded.

“I need to step outside. Just for a minute. Not through the main gate. I know there should be another route.”

His doubt was clear, suspicion creeping into his expression. His hand hovered near his pistol, a silent threat.

I smiled, trying to seem harmless. “It’s a surprise for Leonardo. Something... personal.”

His eyes narrowed, sceptical. “I’m not sure I can help you with that ma'am” he replied with a tone of finality.

“You’re new here, right?” I forced a laugh, though every word felt like a gamble. “So am I. I’m just trying to plan a little surprise for him.

I leaned in, my voice a whisper now. “Think about it. You help me, and you’re the one who made it all happen. You’ll be the hero.”

The guard’s shoulders slackened slightly. He was torn, I could see it. But finally, with a reluctant sigh, he nodded.

“Alright. But the part outside is rough terrain, Be careful.”

I barely acknowledged his warning. “Just show me.”

His resistance wavered. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he nodded. “Fine. But be careful .”

He led the way, while I followed him.

We got to a dead maze farm, a twisted trail of thorns and bushes. There he stopped.

“Just keep walking straight,” he said. “It leads to the city.”

Without another word, I took off, the thorns scratching at my bare legs, the pain sharp but ignorable. My heart pounded in rhythm with my feet hitting the ground. I kept running, faster, harder, until I could see the faint outline of the city in the distance. I almost allowed myself a breath of relief.

“Just a little more” I told myself.

But then, the sound of rustling behind me. I stopped, my blood freezing in my veins. Slowly, I turned.

Leonardo.

He stood just a few feet away, his eyes cold and furious locked onto mine. The guard trembled behind him, eyes wide with terror.

Please, don’t kill me, sir,” the guard whimpered. “She said... she said she was planning a surprise.”

Leonardo’s face remained impassive, his gaze never leaving mine. And then, without a word, he raised his gun. I barely had time to react before the sound of the shot echoed through the air.

Blood splattered onto the thorny plants, the guard’s body crumpling to the ground. The thorns tearing through his soulless skin.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

He had killed the guard. No questions, no hesitation.

Because of me. Because of my stupidity.

I wanted to scream but no voice came out.

“Why?” I whispered, my voice trembling, barely audible. Tears blurred my vision, my body trembling as I looked at the lifeless body of the man who had just been helping me moments ago.

Leonardo’s expression didn’t soften. His grip on the gun was steady, unflinching, as he aimed it directly at me.

“This is what you get when you try to play smart with me,” he said coldly, his voice a deadly whisper. His finger tightened on the trigger.

The dresses arrived, and I had to go downstairs to check them. Leonardo was already there, seated, phone pressed to his ear. The sight of him made my stomach churn, so I turned my face, pretending I hadn’t seen him.

He ended his call and leaned back, gesturing toward the pile of white dresses.

“Try them on.”

I hesitated, the thought of changing in front of him twisting my insides. But before I could object, Helen stepped in, reading my discomfort.

“This way,” she said gently, guiding me toward a small dressing room off to the side.

Inside, I stared at the mountain of fabric. Trying on wedding dresses—dresses I didn’t want—felt like surrender. But what choice did I have? At least Leonardo hadn’t killed me yesterday. I could call that a win... for now.

I pulled on the first dress—a sleeveless gown with a furry jacket that felt more suited for a high-society brunch than a wedding. I stepped out, awkwardly crossing my arms, standing in front of Leonardo in the most unladylike pose possible.

He barely glanced at me.

“No.”

I exhaled sharply, biting down on my irritation. So this was how it would be.

Dress after dress, floral, sleeveless, floor-length, and each time, the answer was the same.

“No. No. No.”

If I kept this up, I’d either faint from exhaustion or strangle him with the next dress.

Finally, he pointed toward a dress hanging on a lone rack in the corner.

“That one. The middle dress.”

I blinked, noticing for the first time the second set of clothes. A fresh wave of frustration bubbled up.

“Please don’t tell me I have to try on all of these,” I muttered under my breath.

Dragging the fabric off the hanger, I retreated to the dressing room. This dress was different—simpler but elegant. It hugged my curves in all the right places, modest yet impossible to ignore.

I brushed my hand over the material, and that’s when I saw it: the price tag. My heart stopped. The cost of this single dress could clear my debts at the office and cover rent for a year.

For a moment, I imagined running away with it. It was enough to start over—enough to escape all of this.

His voice snapped me back to reality.

“I’m not a man who likes to be kept waiting.”

I swallowed my frustration, smoothed the bodice, and stepped out. Leonardo’s gaze drifted over me, cool and unreadable. His almond-shaped eyes—blue and bottomless—betrayed nothing.

He gave a slight nod.

“This one will do.”

He turned to leave without another word. I almost stopped him, the price still glaring at me, but I thought better of it. If this dress drained his pockets, so be it.

He asked for it after all.

Back in the dressing room, I handed the gown to a worker to be packed away. But the number on the tag lingered in my mind, like a guilty secret I couldn’t shake.

---

Lunch came and went without fanfare. Helen informed me that Leonardo had left on a business trip. For a fleeting moment, I hoped this wedding might happen over a Zoom call.

---

I stood in front of the mirror, Emiliana and Helen fussing over me. The dress was a masterpiece—floor-length with gold lace and tiny pearls stitched along the fabric. It hugged my body perfectly, accentuating every curve without revealing too much. I looked... beautiful.

For a moment, a lump rose in my throat. I wished my father were alive to see me. He would have told me how proud he was, even if the circumstances were far from ideal. But I swallowed the tears before they could ruin my makeup.

“You look stunning, Kimberly,” Emiliana whispered, her hands resting on my shoulders.

I gave her a small, reluctant smile. Somehow, they had managed to bring out the version of me I thought was long gone—graceful, feminine, and polished.

Luciana, Emiliana’s daughter, tugged on my dress, her floral gown swaying as she grinned.

“I’m ready, Mama!” she announced, twirling like a tiny princess.

I knelt down, smoothing her hair. “You look like a princess, Lu.” She beamed, and for a moment, I forgot how miserable I felt.

---

The ceremony passed in a blur of flashing cameras and forced smiles. We stood before a crowd of celebrities, mafia families, and strangers with polished masks. I noticed a woman at the far table, her gaze sharp and predatory, as if she could devour me whole. I didn’t know who she was, but something about her felt dangerous.

The priest’s voice boomed, dragging me from my thoughts.

“Your vows. Repeat after me.”

“I, Kimberly…” I echoed his words, feeling each one settle over me like a shackle.

Leonardo stood beside me, calm and composed. When the priest asked if anyone objected to the union, the room stayed silent. I held my breath, praying for some miracle that would never come.

“Do you, Leonardo, take Kimberly—”

“I do,” Leonardo said smoothly, without hesitation.

My turn came, and the words stuck in my throat. The priest’s gaze rested on me, expectant. I could feel Leonardo’s fingers graze mine—a subtle warning.

“I…” The sound barely escaped my lips. “I do.”

The words felt like stones on my tongue, dragging me down.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Leonardo wasted no time. His lips pressed against mine, cold and deliberate. Cameras flashed, applause erupted, and the room swirled in a haze of fake joy.

---

We mingled with the guests afterward, exchanging greetings that felt as hollow as the vows I had just spoken. Mario, pulled me into a warm hug.

“Welcome, Kimberly.”

I forced a smile.

“Thank you, Mario.”

But in my mind, the words were different.

“Welcome to Hell.”

Leonardo’s hand closed around mine, guiding me through the crowd like I was a prized possession on display.

The reception was brief, a few glasses of wine, a short dance, and more photos. Then, Leonardo leaned in and whispered, “It’s time to go.”

Outside, the paparazzi swarmed like locusts, their cameras flashing with relentless urgency. I plastered on a smile, pretending not to see the iron bars closing in around me.

Leonardo opened the car door, and I slid inside, feeling the weight of the life I was about to enter.

As the car sped off, the lights of the city blurred behind us. I stared out the window, heart sinking deeper into the pit of uncertainty.

We were heading to the prison I now knew as home.