SERAPHINA

"Oh my god, Yuki! Get out of here! Shoo! Shoo! Go home!"

I shouted, hurrying toward Yuki, our familiar fluffy dog, who was tangled with a stray in the middle of the road. Disgust twisted my face as I raised my umbrella, using it to carefully separate the pair before things went too far.

I pointed at Yuki-our long-haired mutt Dad had begged his boss for years ago. "You horny little thing! We don't have money to feed a litter of puppies if you get knocked up!" I snapped, my voice laced with exasperation.

Yuki whined, clearly disappointed her fun had been interrupted. I made a show of swinging my hand at the male dog, and he bolted.

I glared at her. "And you! You planning to stay out here all night?!" She flinched, tucking her tail between her legs, and darted toward our rickety wooden house.

I followed her inside, where I found Dad hunched over his phone-definitely gambling online again. I cleared my throat loudly, and he whipped around, his face paling.

"S-Sera!" He hastily stuffed the phone behind his back. "Been home long?"

I shook my head. "Just got here, Dad."

If only I could tell Mom about this. He looked hooked on the damn thing, and it scared me. But he just raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

"Hmm. Well, get inside then. What are you staring at? The dishes are piled up in the kitchen-wash them before you cook dinner."

I forced a smile, masking my frustration. "Yes, Dad. I'll take care of it."

He went right back to his screen, his thumbs already tapping away. Not a word about my day, if I was tired, or what I might want to eat. No surprise there.

I didn't waste time heading to the kitchen. Even from the doorway, I could see the towering pile of crusty plates and pots-they'd clearly waited for me to get home before lifting a finger. I was drained from classes, and this was my welcome. I'd grown used to being treated like an outsider, but the familiar sting was still sharp.

As I scrubbed away at the grime, Mom walked past. Her face soured the moment she saw me.

"Really, Sera? What kind of young woman comes home this late? Good grief-you're always nothing but trouble!"

It's barely five o'clock. I bit back the retort. Arguing never helped; she'd just yell louder.

"I'm sorry, Mom. Classes ran long."

"Tsk! Hurry up! Hera will be home soon, and you haven't even started cooking yet." She stomped off, heavy footsteps shaking the floorboards.

I sighed, the sound lost in the clatter of dishes, and kept washing. Hera was two years younger, but we were graduating college together-I'd had to take two years off when Mom made me quit to work. I'd had no choice but to agree, sacrificing my own ambitions for the sake of the family's needs.

My stomach rumbled as I finished up-I'd skipped lunch to save my allowance. I got to work right away, boiling rice and frying up canned corned beef from the town's relief supplies. The metallic tang of the meat filled the small kitchen.

"Mom, dinner's ready. You should eat first," I called out before heading to my room-the walls were cracked, the peeling paint revealing the cheap wood underneath, and the roof had a hole big enough to stick my head through. Rainwater stained the floorboards, a constant reminder of our poverty.

I changed clothes but stayed put, waiting for them to finish eating. I knew they'd never want me at the table with them-it was always this way, a silent agreement to keep me separate.

I still didn't understand why they hated me so much. Even as a kid, they'd treated me like this. I'd asked if I was adopted, desperate for any explanation, but they swore we were blood-said a DNA test would prove it.

I let out a long breath and looked up at the sky through the hole in my roof. "Really, Lord? You love giving me challenges, don't you?"

When I heard their dishes being cleared, I finally stepped out. I was starving, my stomach twisting with hunger.

"Mom, did you save me any food?" I asked quietly, trying to keep the plea out of my voice.

"There was some left, but we kept it for Hera. We forgot about you." She laughed, the sound hollow and devoid of any warmth.

I dropped my gaze, focusing on the worn floorboards. Of course it's for Hera.

"Okay, Mom. I'll just go to sleep then."

She raised an eyebrow, her expression challenging. "Fine, sleep. Why the long face? Are you mad you didn't get any food?!"

I jumped at her sudden shout, flinching at the harshness in her tone, and shook my head. "No, Mom!"

"Don't give me that look, Sera. Get a job if you want to eat! Dammit, you're always bothering me."

I turned away, jaw tight, just as Hera walked in from school. "Hey, everyone!"

Mom and Dad rushed to greet her. "Our beautiful girl! Even tired from class, you're still stunning!" They kissed her cheeks, their voices softening as they cooed over her.

"Go eat, Hera-we saved your favorite for you," Mom said, guiding her toward the kitchen.

I bit my lip, the familiar sting of exclusion pricking at my eyes, and headed back to my room, staring at the faded floral wallpaper as my mind raced.

That's all I've ever wanted-for them to treat me like their princess too. We were both their daughters, so why was I so different? Why did they withhold every ounce of affection from me?

The pain was sharp, a dull ache in my chest, but I didn't cry-I was used to it by now, the numbness a familiar shield. Even so, a part of me still ached for the warmth and love they showered on Hera, a longing that never seemed to fade.

I slapped my cheeks hard, then pinched them, trying to ground myself. "Come on, Sera. You're tough-this won't break you. The Lord must have big plans for you!" I forced a laugh, the sound hollow as I whispered the words to myself, seeking comfort in the familiar mantra.

Sleep was better than dwelling on things, a temporary escape from the constant ache. I had an event at school early tomorrow, and I needed to be up before dawn, a daunting prospect given my empty stomach and heavy heart.

"Mom, I'm heading to school!" I called out, raising my voice to be heard over the silence of the quiet house. She could be anywhere-her room, some corner of the yard-so shouting was safer, a way to ensure my voice reached her.

I waited a few seconds, the silence stretching, but no answer came. I scratched my head, a flicker of panic igniting within me-I was already running late, and the clock was ticking against me. I needed to ask her for a hundred pesos to cover an unexpected fee, a sum my meager savings couldn't cover.

"Mom?" I called again, my voice tinged with urgency.

I was about to give up and leave, resigning myself to facing the day without her support, when I heard footsteps approaching. Mom rounded the corner, phone clutched in her hand, a strange, unsettling smile playing on her lips.

She looked me up and down, her eyes narrowing when she saw my backpack, her gaze lingering with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

"Mom, I have to go-"

"You're not going anywhere," she said firmly, her voice laced with an unfamiliar edge. My brow furrowed in confusion, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words.

"What do you mean I'm not-"

"Quit school, Sera." She stared at me with a cold glint in her eye, her expression unreadable, then smirked, as if sharing a secret I wasn't privy to. "There's a better life waiting for you."

My chest tightened with unease, a sense of foreboding washing over me. I forced a laugh, hoping to diffuse the tension, hoping it was all just a misunderstanding. "Mom, come on-it's too early for jokes-"

She cut me off, grabbing my arm with a force that made me wince. I'd never seen her like this, her eyes burning with a strange, unsettling intensity.

"I said you're not going. Do you understand me?!"

I gasped, a sharp intake of breath, then found the strength to pull my arm away, recoiling from her touch.

"I'm going to school," I repeated, my voice trembling but firm, and ran for the door, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the house.

"Sera! Get back here, you little brat! I'm talking to you! Sera!" I blocked out her shouts, the harsh words stinging my ears, sprinting down the dirt path away from our house, seeking refuge in the anonymity of the outside world.

What is wrong with her? She'd seemed almost happy just a minute ago-why was she taking it out on me again, unleashing her anger on me as if I were the source of all her problems?

I shook my head as I walked, knowing I'd never make the event on time now, the weight of disappointment settling heavily on my shoulders. I'd had to walk since I couldn't afford fare, and the school was just ahead, a bittersweet reminder of the life I was fighting to build.

Great, Seraphina. Real smart. I messed up my hair in frustration, the gesture a futile attempt to release the pent-up tension. "Why do you always land yourself in this mess?!"

I muttered to myself as I trudged onward, just a few steps from the school's back gate, the familiar surroundings offering a small measure of comfort. I could already picture my teacher scolding me and my friends teasing me-but none of that mattered when I saw the black van pull up beside an old woman, a scene that shattered the normalcy of the morning.

Then I saw the glint of a knife, a flash of metal that sent a jolt of terror through my veins.

My eyes went wide as they shoved her into the van, the brutality of the act unfolding before me. Kidnapping? Oh my god!

I acted without thinking, driven by instinct and a fierce sense of injustice, charging toward them as I screamed, my voice raw with adrenaline. "Stop! You can't do this! Let her go!"

They turned to look at me-masked men, all of them, their faces hidden behind a wall of anonymity. I hurled my heavy backpack full of books at one of them, the books scattering across the ground, then rushed to the old woman, who was slumped against the van, bleeding, her eyes wide with fear.

"Oh my god! Are you okay? Breathe slowly!" I pulled out my handkerchief, my hands trembling, and pressed it to her wound, holding tight to stem the bleeding, desperate to offer some measure of comfort.

"Who the hell are you?!" one of the men snarled, his voice muffled by the mask.

"Help! Someone help us! They're trying to kill her!" I yelled at passing cars, my voice cracking with fear, hoping someone would hear my desperate plea and come to our rescue.

The men panicked, their carefully laid plans unraveling, clearly not wanting attention. They started climbing into the van, preparing to flee. But my eyes-still sharp before the burn-locked on the passenger seat. Through the mask's slit, the man's stare cut through me like ice on fire.

Before I could think, a cloud of burning mist sprayed my face.

"A-Aughhh! M-My Eyes!"

I clung to the old woman, my eyes throbbing as darkness closed in-but not before I caught a glimpse of the silver thorn crest on their door. She gripped my hand tight, her voice a whisper against the ringing in my ears:

"It'll be fine... m-my grandson will help you. He'll know what to do."

Then the world went black.

-

When I woke up in the hospital, my eyes bandaged tight, the doctor's words hit me like ice: "There's a chance you'll see again someday." But it was the nurse's murmur that made my blood run cold-

"The Vitale family's covering all your costs. Every last penny... but nothing in life is ever truly free."

Because the day my eyes open again will be the day I learn what my life is really worth-and that the man I'll marry plans to take it all away.

SERAPHINA

Noise first-running feet, shouts that blurred into an incomprehensible cacophony. I fought to pry my eyes open, but the darkness remained, an impenetrable wall. I waved a hand before my face, fingers slicing through air I could feel but not see. Nothing. Just black, thick as water, suffocating in its totality.

"W-What happened?" The words fell flat in the quiet, swallowed by the void.

My head throbbed, each pulse a painful reminder of the chaos, every muscle singing with ache. I tried to sit up, my limbs heavy as stone, unresponsive to my will. Dead? Hit by a car? I clawed at memory, but it slipped through my fingers like soap, elusive and intangible. Car? What was I doing before...

I touched my forehead, then my eyelids-they were open, I could feel the stretch of skin, the delicate pressure. So why was the world gone, swallowed by this all-encompassing blackness?

Fragments clicked into place, sharp and sudden, piercing through the fog of confusion: the old woman hunched on the sidewalk, her face etched with fear, the glint of a knife reflecting the harsh morning light, the van's rust-colored door slamming shut with brutal finality.

Right. I'd fought with Mom at dawn-her words like shards of glass, screaming about dropping out, said school was a waste of money I didn't have. I'd stormed out, walking to campus, my anger a burning ember, when I saw them drag her in, saw the blade tear through her cotton shirt, leaving a crimson stain. I'd run without thinking, feet slamming against asphalt, propelled by a force I couldn't control.

What came after? I squeezed my lids shut, chasing the ghost of it, desperate to reclaim the lost moments.

Then I remembered.

"He sprayed something in my eyes!" I jolted upright, a gasp escaping my lips, sheets twisting around my legs like a suffocating embrace.

My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a frantic drum against my sternum, so hard I felt it in my throat, choking me with panic. I spun my head side to side, hands scrabbling over cool linen, searching for a sign, any sign. The dark didn't shift, didn't waver, remained absolute.

The truth landed slow and heavy, a crushing weight pressing the air from my lungs, stealing my breath.

"Am I... blind? Did I lose my sight?" My voice cracked, thin as spider silk, fragile and easily broken. Hot tears tracked down my cheeks, a burning trail of grief, and I didn't bother to wipe them away, surrendering to the despair. Blind.

How will I finish school? My work? How can I make something of myself when I can't even find my own hands? Fear coiled in my gut, tight as a spring, constricting my breath, stealing my hope. They'll hate me more now.

If they'd resented me when I could see-when I'd scraped for every peso to pay tuition, sacrificing everything-what would they do now? What value could I possibly have to them now?

I drew a shaky breath, forcing my hands to unclench, fighting against the rising tide of panic. That's when I heard it: a door opening, soft as a whisper, a gentle sigh against the silence, then closing with quiet deliberation. No footsteps, no words, only the hushed sounds of a presence nearby.

"H-Hello? Is anyone there?"

A pause, thick with unspoken tension, then a quiet clearing of throat. "I take it you've realized your condition, Miss Mortez." The voice was calm, even-like pouring water into a glass, soothing yet detached. A doctor, maybe, or a nurse, someone accustomed to delivering bad news.

"Am I really blind?" My hands trembled in my lap, knuckles white, a physical manifestation of the terror that consumed me.

"For now. But it isn't permanent. We expect full sight back within a year-maybe sooner."

A year. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, a small gasp of relief, but the knot in my chest didn't loosen, the fear remained, a persistent shadow. A year in darkness... who would take me in? Who would want me?

"W-What about the woman I tried to help? Is she okay?"

Another pause-long enough I could almost feel her looking at me, studying me with an unseen gaze. "You're worried about her, even now?" A hint of warmth in her laugh, a flicker of surprise. "She's stable. Healing well."

Something lightened in my chest, a small spark of hope amidst the despair. The doctor spoke of swelling, of treatment, of drops I'd need to take-but the words slid off me, meaningless sounds in the face of the one thought that consumed me: Mom.

"Would you like us to contact your family? We can have someone call them."

I froze, the question hanging in the air like a threat. "I... I don't know their numbers by heart." My voice sounded small, lost, a child in the face of overwhelming fear.

"I see. We'll find a way to-" The door slammed open with such force the frame rattled, wood groaning in protest, the sound echoing through the room like a thunderclap.

"Seraphina!"

My breath caught, a sharp intake of air that filled my lungs with dread. Mom.

"Ma'am, please-you can't just enter without-"

"M-Mom?" I cut through the doctor's protest, relief warring with dread so sharp it made my teeth ache, a conflicting wave of emotions that threatened to drown me. "How did you find me? I was so scared-"

A slap cracked through the air, landing hard on my cheek, the force of the blow sending my head reeling. I cried out, clutching my face as numbness spread over my skin, a physical manifestation of the pain that had always been present. I didn't know where to turn-there was nowhere to look, no escape from the darkness that consumed me.

"Damn you! Useless enough before-now you're blind and good for nothing!" Her voice bounced off the walls, harsh and sharp, amplified by the small space, each word a dagger twisting in my heart.

"Mom, I didn't mean-"

Another slap, harder this time, a brutal assault that left me gasping for breath. My head spun, and I tasted copper on my tongue, the metallic tang of blood a familiar taste.

"You've never brought anything but curse to this house! Why did I even have you?"

Her words cut deeper than any blow, a searing brand on my soul, confirming the fears I had always harbored. I heard her shouting at the doctor, voice rising and falling like broken glass, a storm of anger I was powerless to control. It was nothing new. Mom's anger had always been a storm I couldn't outrun, a constant presence in my life. I mumbled for the doctor to let her stay, my voice flat and heavy as stone, resigned to my fate.

The air in the room thickened, warm and sour with anger, heavy with unspoken resentments. Without sight, every sense felt amplified: the shift of the mattress as she sat beside me, the rasp of her breath, the faint smell of sweat and cooking oil clinging to her clothes, all assaulting me with their intensity. I hunched against the headboard, waiting, bracing myself for the inevitable.

"Your Aunt Mila showed up at the house to tell me where you were, you fool!" She snapped, her voice laced with disdain. "What are we supposed to do with you now?"

"I don't know, Mom. I don't know." My shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of me, and the cane beside the bed felt like a weight I'd already been carrying, a symbol of the burden I had become.

So close to graduating. I'd counted every day, every exam, every paper I'd written by hand because we couldn't afford a computer, each milestone a testament to my perseverance. Now it all felt like smoke, insubstantial and fleeting. Even if my sight came back-if-would anything be the same? Would I ever escape this cycle of abuse and despair?

Silence stretched between us, long and tight, heavy with unspoken truths and bitter regrets. Then she spoke, and the words shredded what little hope I had left, tearing through the fragile fabric of my dreams.

"I've decided. I'm selling you to Don Tiago. You're no use to us like this."

"Mom! I'm not a thing to be sold!" I cried out, the words ripped from my throat, hands fisting in the sheets until my knuckles burned, a desperate act of defiance against the crushing weight of her decision.

She smacked my thigh, hard enough to make me flinch, a sharp reminder of her power over me. "What else? You can't study, can't work-you'll just drain us dry. We need to take care of Hera, not clean up your messes!"

My chest tightened until I could barely breathe, the air thin and suffocating. How could she let me go so easy? What had I done to make her look at me like I was nothing more than a burden to be traded, a commodity to be sold?

"At least with the governor, we'll get paid. You'll finally be worth something-and you'll live in a real house!"

Fear pricked at my skin, cold and sharp, a visceral response to the terror that threatened to consume me. Don Tiago... the stories drifted through my head-whispers of young women taken to his estate, never seen again, swallowed by the darkness of his depravity. Before I could speak, before I could beg or plead or fight, the world tilted, and darkness swallowed me whole, a welcome oblivion.

"Sera! Are you done yet? Hurry-Hera's gonna fix your face so you don't look like you've been crying all week."

I dropped my head, fingers wrapped around the smooth wood of my cane. Two days had passed since I'd woken up blind. Dad had yelled until his voice gave out-exactly what I'd expected.

"I'm ready," I said, voice flat as I sat on the edge of the bed. Footsteps approached, quick and light, then Hera's voice cut through the air.

"Ugh. Why did you have to go and get yourself blinded? Now you're gonna be that creep's toy." Her fingers were cold as she grabbed my chin, dabbing something sweet-smelling on my cheeks.

I said nothing. My heart was already in pieces-what more could she do to hurt me?

"Ah well. Thanks for the money, though! Finally getting out of this hole. Guess you are the breadwinner after all."

I let her pull me to my feet, let mol adjust my dress-too tight, too fancy, nothing I'd ever wear on my own. When they said the governor was here, they guided me toward the door, their hands heavy on my arms.

"What's wrong with you? Stop crying!" mom hissed, pinching my side hard enough to make me gasp.

Who wouldn't cry when their own family is selling them? But I bit my tongue, letting her drag me forward.

"Stop it! You're making us look bad!" Hera complained beside me.

I was almost grateful for the dark-grateful I wouldn't have to see his face, or the greed shining in my family's eyes.

"Don!" mom called out, her voice bright as polished glass.

"Oh, Mrs. Mortez! Is this the girl?" The voice was slick, oily-like warm grease sliding over stone. I could almost picture his smile, too wide, too sharp.

How do I get away?

"Yes, sir! Isn't she beautiful?" mom trilled.

"Beautiful indeed. Perfect, just perfect."

"Are you happy now, mom?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, quiet as dust.

She pinched me again, and I let out a laugh that sounded like broken glass.

What else could I expect from people who never saw me as their own?

I listened as they haggled, voices rising and falling over numbers I tried not to hear. Then a hand wrapped around my arm-warm, but firm enough to make my skin crawl.

"You're a lovely thing, sweetheart," he murmured in my ear, his breath hot against my neck.

I didn't move, didn't speak, letting him lead me toward what I assumed was his car. But before I could take another step, a voice cut through the noise-deep, cold, and sharp as a blade.

"Negotiating human trafficking... is that how you conduct business, Don Tiago?"

Even I froze, every muscle going tight. The hand on my arm squeezed hard with panic.

"V-Vitale! What are you doing here?" The governor's voice shook.

Vitale?

"I'm here for Seraphina Mortez. And it seems you're holding her against her will."

The Don Tiago shoved me away so fast I stumbled, my cane clattering to the ground. Strong arms caught me before I hit the dirt, pulling me close against a chest solid as stone. His scent filled my lungs-clean pine, something sharp and warm like wood smoke.

"W-What do you want with me?" I asked, my hands finding his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket.

"Not now. We'll talk later. Just hold on." His voice was low, steady-impossible to resist.

"W-Wait! She's our daughter-" Dad stammered.

"How much did he offer you?" The man cut him off, his tone leaving no room for lies.

"H-Huh?"

"I won't ask again."

"Five hundred thousand dollars."

Five hundred thousand. I'd worked three jobs for a year to save a tenth of that. I wasn't surprised-nothing about this should have surprised me.

"I'll pay triple. In exchange, you forget Seraphina Mortez was ever your daughter. No claims, no contact. And if you ever try to find her..." He paused, and the silence that followed was more terrifying than any threat.

"You'll regret it."

I heard my family scrambling, voices rising in panic and greed all at once. Then strong arms lifted me off my feet, and I wrapped my legs around his waist instinctively, clinging to his neck. I said nothing as he carried me to a car, setting me gently on seats soft as buttered leather.

"Stay here. I'll handle the rest." He closed the door, leaving me alone in the quiet dark-wondering who this man was, and why he'd pulled me from a fate I'd already begun to accept.

THIRD PERSON'S POINT OF VIEW

"What do you even want with her?! She's got nothing to give-why throw money away on-" Sera's mother's words choked off as the stranger turned his gaze upon her. The look in his eyes was sharp as a honed blade, slicing through her bluster, silencing her with its intensity.

"Be quiet." His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, cold as wet concrete, a warning that brooked no argument. He tossed a briefcase to the dirt at their feet, the thud a jarring punctuation to the tense silence.

It popped open, revealing its contents. Cash spilled over the edges-thick stacks of bills bound together, their crispness palpable even from a distance, catching the sun and reflecting its light in a dazzling display that made their pupils dilate. Confusion faded first, replaced by avarice, then worry, then anything that resembled genuine care for Sera. Money was all they'd ever truly hungered for, and this man was offering more than they'd ever dared to dream of in exchange for their daughter.

The stranger glanced at the governor, who stared at his own shoes, avoiding eye contact. His jaw worked, muscles clenching and unclenching, hands trembling at his sides, betraying his inner turmoil. He knew the name-whispered in hushed tones in boardrooms and back alleys, tied to power and influence and things best left unspoken. Vitale. Dangerous. Way out of his depth. Better to step aside and let the girl go, to avoid becoming collateral damage in a game he couldn't hope to win.

Inside the car, Sera sat in a darkness so profound it felt like a heavy blanket pressed over her face, suffocating her senses. She mapped the world with what she had left: the low hum of the engine vibrating under her palms, the smooth, clean smell of leather, the faint scent of something woodsy emanating from the front seat, a masculine fragrance that hinted at power and danger. Yesterday, she could have picked out the vibrant purple of bougainvillea clinging to walls or the burnt orange glow of a street lamp casting long shadows. Now there was only this-endless, heavy night, a constant reminder of her loss.

The door swung open, startling her. Someone slid in beside her, and she flinched, pressing back against the doorframe, her body tense with apprehension, arms wrapped tight around her knees in a protective embrace. She couldn't see his face, couldn't read his intentions, couldn't anticipate his actions-if he meant to hurt her, she'd have nowhere to run, no way to defend herself.

"You're safe now. I won't hurt you."

His voice was low, smooth as polished stone, cool as river water-and it sent shivers tracing a path up her spine, a visceral response to his presence. She held her breath, too scared to make a sound, paralyzed by fear.

"From what I hear, you're blind. Not mute, though."

"I'm not mute." The words burst out before she could stop them, a reflexive act of defiance against the assumptions he was making. She wanted to clamp her hand over her mouth, regretting her impulsiveness-why had she answered so fast, revealing her vulnerability?

A soft laugh rumbled in his chest, a sound that vibrated through the small space, a sound that made warmth prickle at her neck and shoulders, a confusing sensation in the midst of her fear.

"Good. No fun in a toy that can't speak up."

Her jaw tightened, her anger flaring despite her fear. She turned toward him, even though all she saw was black, her inner vision burning with indignation.

She couldn't believe it, couldn't reconcile the savior with the casual cruelty of his words. The urge to throw herself from the moving car, to risk injury rather than submit to his control, was so strong she had to grip the door handle until her knuckles ached, her resolve wavering.

"W-What-do you want my body too?!" She trembled, her voice shaking, fingers fumbling to make the sign of the cross, a desperate plea for protection as the car pulled onto the highway, speeding toward an unknown destination. "It's wrong to force someone-that's rape! I won't-I won't sleep with anyone! Blind doesn't mean helpless-I can fight you! What's so funny?!"

He laughed again, the sound devoid of humor, even as tears stung her eyes, hot and thick, blurring her vision with an agony she could no longer see.

"Hmm... really? But what if you're my wife?"

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, stealing her breath, leaving her reeling. Anger flared up, hot enough to burn through fear, fueled by the injustice of her situation.

"Non-consent is rape, no matter who you are-husband, stranger, anyone! Wait-wife? What are you talking about?!" Terror seized her all over again, a cold wave washing over her, threatening to drown her. Had she traded one nightmare for something even worse, exchanging the clutches of her family for the control of a stranger?

He only hummed in reply, an enigmatic sound that offered no answers, and said nothing more for the rest of the ride, leaving her to stew in her fear and confusion. He didn't touch her, didn't lean close, didn't offer any explanation. Eventually, exhaustion pulled her under, a blessed oblivion, and she fell into a sleep so deep she didn't feel the car slow down, didn't register the changing landscape.

Night had settled over the city by the time they arrived: a sprawling estate tucked into Chateau de Taltal, one of the capital's most exclusive villages, a haven of wealth and privilege. The man stepped out of the car, his movements fluid and graceful, his shoulders set, his gaze as cold as the air, a commanding presence that demanded attention. Even in the dim light, his eyes stood out-emerald green, sharp as chips of glass, piercing through the darkness with their intensity.

"Sir Lucian! The madam's inside-she's been waiting."

A guard jogged over, breathless, his voice laced with a mixture of respect and apprehension.

"Tell her to hold on. I need a minute."

The guard nodded and vanished into the mansion, disappearing into the opulent interior, as Lucian leaned against the car's hood, arms crossed, eyes closed, his expression unreadable.

This wasn't why he'd come to the US, wasn't the mission he'd intended to undertake. How had he ended up playing hero, chasing after a girl he'd never met, interfering in a life that wasn't his own?

[FLASHBACK]

"Sir! The hospital's on the phone!"

Lucian's brow furrowed as his man approached, phone held out with a tight, worried look, his anxiety palpable. He didn't ignore panic-not from his people, whose loyalty and discretion he depended upon.

He peeled off blood-stained gloves, discarding them without a second glance, tossed his baseball bat to the floor, the thud muffled by the thick carpet, and stepped over a bleeding hand without a flicker of emotion. He pulled out his vape, a sleek, silver device, took a slow hit of mint, the vapor cloud momentarily obscuring his face, then answered.

"Is this Mr. Vitale?" A woman's voice, careful and strained, her words measured.

Lucian exhaled a thin cloud of smoke, the scent of mint filling the air. "Yeah. What does Ferrer want?" He spoke flatly, his tone impatient, gesturing for his men to clear the room, his authority absolute.

"Sir... your grandmother-"

He hung up, severing the connection with brutal finality. Striding to his car, a sleek black sports car, he slammed his palm against the steering wheel, the impact jarring, as the engine roared to life, a beast unleashed.

"Damn it, old woman!" He pressed his foot to the gas, the car lurching forward, worry coiling hot in his chest, a rare and unwelcome emotion. She was all the family he had left, the one person he couldn't afford to lose.

"Ma'am, please-you'll pull your stitches!"

Lucian heard the nurses' shouts before he even reached the room, their voices laced with exasperation. Of course she was causing a scene-stubbornness was as much a part of her as her fortune, an unshakeable trait.

Relief washed over him when he saw her. Alive. Bruised, with a bandage wrapped tight around her side, but her eyes were bright as ever, undimmed by the trauma she'd endured.

"What's all the noise for?" he called out as he walked in, his voice cutting through the chaos, and every head turned, drawn to his presence like moths to a flame. People always noticed him-his sharp features, the way he filled a room without trying, his inherent charisma. But no one felt the weight of him the way she did, the unspoken connection that bound them together.

She threw a pillow at his head, her aim surprisingly accurate. He caught it easily, tucking it aside with a sigh.

"What now?" He pulled a chair beside her bed, his movements graceful and controlled, nodded for the nurses to leave, dismissing them with a glance. She quieted once the door clicked shut, the sound a signal of their privacy.

He leaned back, studying her pale face, searching for any sign of weakness.

"This is about that again, isn't it?"

She didn't answer, avoiding his gaze, staring at the ceiling, her expression soft with sadness, a vulnerability he rarely saw.

"I was taken again, L," she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. "But a girl saved me."

He raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical, waiting for her to elaborate.

"She was... kind. Not just to me-she saw trouble and ran straight into it, even though she didn't know me, even though she had everything to lose. And in the end... she lost her sight because of it."

Lucian's jaw tightened, his anger simmering beneath the surface. He heard the catch in her voice, saw tears tracking down her cheeks, a rare display of emotion that touched him deeply.

"Stop crying. You're not a kid." He stood, his movements decisive, pulling her into a gentle embrace, his touch surprisingly tender, rubbing her back until she calmed, offering her comfort.

She sobbed harder, clinging to him, her small frame shaking. "W-What'll happen to her? The nurses said her own mother was here yesterday-treated her like she was trash..."

He clicked his tongue, his impatience growing. "This isn't a story, Nonna. Maybe it's not as bad as you think-"

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a plea he couldn't ignore, and he knew she'd seen through his gruffness, understood the affection he tried to hide. She was the only one who ever could.

After a few minutes, she settled, her breathing evening out. He was peeling an apple with a small silver knife, his movements precise and economical, when she spoke again, her voice firm.

"Find her, L." Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument, her will absolute.

He huffed a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "Back to your old self?"

She shot him a glare, silencing him with a look. "I haven't cried like that in decades. But I mean it-find her for me."

"Why should I? I've got work, deals to close, empires to build." He kept his voice cold, but she only stared him down, her resolve unwavering.

"Fine. Then you can stay out of the US for good-"

"What's the point?" he cut in, knowing he'd already lost.

She smiled, slow and knowing, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I want to pay her back. If I have all this-money, power, influence-and can't even thank the person who saved my life... what good is any of it?"

"You're wasting your time. You should go back to Italy for the show, reclaim your throne."

She cackled, wincing as she pressed a hand to her side, her laughter a sharp, brittle sound that belied her pain. "Idiot-look at me. I'm not going anywhere, not in this state."

He couldn't argue with that, her stubbornness as unyielding as ever. She was infuriating, a force of nature he couldn't control.

"Did you handle the ones who took you, ensure they won't try again?"

"Of course I did, cara. Did you think I'd leave them to chance?" She raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp and knowing. "I own a hundred brands, built this with my own hands, clawed my way to the top-reporters are already lining up for a statement, eager to hear my story."

Lucian said nothing, his expression unreadable, but her next words made him pause, knife stilling over the apple, his attention fully captured.

"Find her... and marry her, L. Make it my last wish."

So he had, setting events in motion with ruthless efficiency. At first, he'd only planned to find the girl to quiet his grandmother, to appease her generous spirit-marriage was never part of the deal, a step too far, a commitment he wasn't willing to make. But seeing Sera standing there, her shoulders tight with fear, her vulnerability palpable, even her closed eyes couldn't hide how clear her spirit was, how fiercely she clung to her principles. Something shifted in him then-sharp, sudden, and impossible to ignore, a flicker of something akin to respect, perhaps even admiration. He'd give his grandmother exactly what she wanted, fulfilling her dying wish, even if it meant disrupting his carefully constructed life.

Lucian had always been drawn to beautiful women, his tastes refined, his standards impossibly high-his reputation as a playboy was well-earned, a carefully cultivated facade. But this girl... a blind woman from the provinces, who'd risked everything for a stranger, defying her own fear in the face of injustice. Who would have guessed she'd make his chest feel tight, like he'd swallowed something warm and sharp, an unfamiliar sensation that both intrigued and unsettled him?

A man known across the globe, feared and respected in equal measure, pulled in by someone he'd just met, a force he couldn't quite comprehend?

A slow smile touched his lips, a genuine expression of amusement, as he looked through the car window at Sera, still sleeping, her features softened in repose, her mouth slightly parted, inviting and innocent.

"Hmm. What's with that look, what thoughts are lurking behind those eyes?"

He turned to see his associate walking over, his expression curious. "Get me a lawyer, someone discreet and efficient. And a marriage contract-ready to sign, no loopholes, no room for error."

His eyes drifted back to her lips, pink and soft in the glow of the estate lights, a promise of something he couldn't quite define.

"I'm getting married. Damn it, what have I gotten myself into?"