~HAILEY POV~

Dinner ended on a sour note, like a bitter aftertaste that refused to leave my tongue. My father's patience had snapped like a rope stretched too tight.

I knew when we got home it would be me who paid for it.

But right there at the table, I still couldn't bring myself to care. My stubbornness was louder than fear, for now at least.

Santino, oh so gracious in his fine suit, escorted us to the front door like he was a polite gentleman. His steps were slow, confident, too smooth, like a predator pretending to be harmless.

His gaze kept sliding to me, snapping quick, staying for a second too long before he looked away. It made the hairs on my arms stand up, like he could see too much of me.

When he finally spoke, his voice was velvety.

"Mr Carter," he said, turning to my father. His eyes were quick, but the lazy smile pulling at his mouth told me his words would sting.

"As you've seen tonight, your daughter lacks the bearing and manners fit for the daughter-in-law of the prestigious Blackwood family. I hope that next time we meet... she will have been... tamed."

My jaw dropped so wide I must have looked like a fish gasping for air.

I couldn't even form words for a second. This bastard. This arrogant, cold-hearted bastard. Prestigious family?

My foot. He had the nerve to shame me in front of my father, to talk about me like I was some dog needing training.

My father's face flushed red, anger and humiliation mixing in ugly streaks. He laughed nervously, the kind of laugh that made my stomach twist with disgust.

"Ah yes, Mr Blackwood," he said, almost bowing, his hands rubbing together. "My apologies for her behavior tonight." He was all smiles, but it was fake. He was burning inside and I knew who would be burned next.

I glared daggers at Santino, praying that he would just drop dead right there on his marble doorstep. My chest rose and fell in quick breaths.

He looked at me once more, those dark eyes glittering like they knew exactly what he was doing. Then he turned away, still smiling faintly, like he had won something.

......

The car ride home was heavy.

The silence wasn't just silence, it was stuffy, choking, like smoke filling the car. The kind of silence that presses down on your chest and makes you want to scream just to break it.

I leaned against the window, my face blank, the disguise I always wore when I was with them. I wasn't about to show weakness, Not in front of the monster that called himself my father.

Beside me, my mother's hand clutched mine. Her palm was damp with sweat, her fingers trembling even though she tried to grip firmly.

Her face was turned toward the window, her lips pressed tight, eyes staring into the rain like she wanted to disappear into it.

My father sat in the passenger seat like a king on his throne, his phone in his hand, thumbs moving fast and furious across the screen.

Probably texting some business partner about money. Always money. Never once about me. Never once about her. I stared at him, wondering what it would feel like if he gave even half the energy he gave his deals to being a father.

Maybe life wouldn't be this hell.

Raindrops splattered against the windshield, racing down like tiny rivers. The driver kept his eyes locked forward, silent, because even he feared the man sitting in front.

I closed my eyes, leaning my head back. For a moment I drifted into a troubled nap, images of Santino's smirk mixing with the memory of my father's fist.

......

The slam of car doors jolted me awake. My heart jumped into my throat. I stumbled out of the car, dazed, my legs stiff, and followed my parents inside.

The living room was dark, moonlight spilling faint silver across the floor. It made shadows on my father's face, sharpening his rage, making him look less human, more monster.

He didn't even remove his jacket. He just turned on us like a storm.

The sound came before I even registered the movement. Slap. Flesh on flesh. My mother's head snapped to the side. A gasp ripped out of me before I could stop it.

She crumpled to the floor, one hand flying to her cheek.

"No!" My voice cracked, broken, desperate. "Don't hit her! You promised!" My feet wouldn't move. Fear nailed me to the floor, heavy, crushing. My body screamed to run to her, but I stayed rooted like a coward.

He didn't stop. His hand kept rising and falling.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Each one harder than the last. My mother didn't even shield herself.

She stayed curled, still, taking it all. She always did. If she fought back, he would turn on me instead. So she endured.

She always endured.

"Everything-" slap "I've-" slap "worked-" slap "for-" slap "was-" slap "destroyed-" slap "by you!" His words came between the blows, spit flying from his mouth, his voice wild and ugly.

Then he grabbed her by the hair dragging her across the floor like she was trash. Her body left streaks of blood on the tiles.

My stomach turned.

My throat closed. Tears blurred my vision but I couldn't stop screaming, couldn't stop begging.

"Please! Stop! You're killing her!" My voice was hoarse, breaking. But he didn't stop. He never stopped until his rage cooled on its own.

Finally, he stood back, chest heaving, suit splattered with blood. My mother lay still, too still, in a pool of red. A deep gash marked her forehead.

Her right eye was swollen shut.

"Behave properly," he spat, voice rough, "and stop being so ungrateful." With that, he stormed upstairs, leaving silence in his wake.

I scrambled to my mother's side, falling to my knees in the sticky blood.

"Mom," I sobbed, shaking.

My hands hovered uselessly over her wounds, too afraid to touch, too afraid to hurt her more. My heart clenched so tight it felt like it would rip out of my chest.

She lifted her head weakly, tried to smile, but it twisted into a grimace. Blood spilled from her lips. A broken tooth clinked against the tile.

My sobs came raw, loud, shaking the walls.

"Shh," she whispered, voice thin as paper. Her swollen face turned toward me. "Don't cry, my little volcano." The words cracked and she winced.

Every sound seemed to hurt her.

"Santino... he seems like... a fair person... beneath what he shows. Do what your father says." Her voice was fading, trembling.

I thought of Santino. His sharp eyes, his cold smile, the strange moment at dinner when it felt like the world had shrunk to just us.

And I realized I was trapped between two monsters. My father, cruel and twisted. Santino, a man I couldn't yet read.

Which one was worse? Which one would break me first? I didn't know. But I knew one thing. I was stuck.

Stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea.

My father's voice echoed through the hall. "Hailey! Why aren't you dressed? You have appointments today!"

I groaned, rubbing my temple. "Appointments for what? My funeral?"

He appeared at the bottom of the staircase, sharp in his suit even though it was just noon. His face was red already. "For your dress fitting, makeup testing, jewelry consultations-.."

I cut him off. "You make it sound like I'm marrying the president."

He glared. "You're marrying a Blackwood. That's higher."

I made a face. "Yay, lucky me."

"Hailey!" he barked, but I was already walking back to my room, pretending not to hear.

When I got inside, I slammed the door and flopped onto the bed. Every inch of my room smelled like roses now because the maids thought it was "fitting for the occasion." I hated roses. They looked pretty but had thorns just like this stupid life.

My phone buzzed. Lila: You alive or buried under wedding cake samples yet?

I smirked, typing back. Barely breathing. Save me before I choke on fake happiness.

Two seconds later, another message popped up Dorian: Heard you're getting chained for life, Princess. Want to rebel before you lose your freedom?

I smiled for real this time. Dorian Crest, my childhood best friend, world-class flirt, and certified troublemaker. His family was as rich as mine, but unlike me, he actually liked it. His father owned half the oil business in the country. Dorian grew up spoiled but charming enough to get away with everything.

And then there was Lila, my opposite. Her family ran a small bakery downtown, and she'd been working since she was twelve. She was fierce, stubborn, and the only person who could call me out without caring who my father was.

The three of us met in kindergarten. Dorian had been the boy who threw paint at me, and Lila had helped me throw it back. We've been a mess ever since.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Perfect hair. Designer pajamas. Empty eyes. "Screw this," I muttered and grabbed my jacket and a pair of heels.

I sneaked out through the back garden gate like a thief, dodging decorators and guards. By the time I reached the main road, Dorian's car was already waiting, sleek black and loud as hell.

He rolled the window down. "Well, look who escaped the royal castle," he said with that lazy grin that had made every girl in school melt.

"Drive," I said, sliding in.

Lila was in the backseat, chewing gum and looking unimpressed. "You're late, Bridezilla."

"Sorry, I had to dodge a firing squad," I replied.

Dorian laughed, one hand on the wheel. "So where are we going, my rebellious queen?"

"Anywhere with noise," I said. "I want to forget everything."

"Club V." Dorian smirked. "Perfect noise."

Lila groaned. "Do we have to? I'm wearing sneakers."

"You'll survive," I said, already pulling down the car mirror to fix my lipstick.

The club was chaos and glitter. Lights flashed, bass shook the floor, and the smell of alcohol clung to the air. The second I stepped in, the world outside vanished.

Dorian ordered drinks immediately, tossing his card to the bartender like he owned the place. "To Hailey," he toasted, "soon to be Mrs. Blackwood, the woman too hot for hell."

I laughed, clinking my glass against his. "Cheers to bad decisions."

We danced, we laughed. For the first time in weeks, I felt something close to freedom. Lila swayed beside me, hair sticking to her forehead, her laughter bright and wild.

I felt a prickling on my skin. Like someone was watching me.

I turned, scanning the crowd.

And there he was.

Santino Blackwood.

He sat in the VIP section above us, dressed in black, a glass of wine in one hand. His sleeves rolled up, showing strong forearms and black ink, his hair slightly tousled. Even in the dim light, his eyes burned like storm clouds. Cold, sharp, unreadable.

For a moment, my heart stopped.

He wasn't supposed to be here.

Of course, Santino always did what he wanted.

"Shit," I muttered.

Dorian followed my gaze. "Well, well... if it isn't your future husband watching you like a hawk."

"Don't," I warned.

He smirked. "Oh, I'm definitely going to make him jealous."

Before I could stop him, his arm slid around my waist, pulling me close. My back hit his chest. The smell of his cologne mixed with the heat of the dance floor. He leaned down, lips brushing my ear. "Relax, princess. Just giving your man something to think about."

My pulse jumped. Not because of Dorian but because I could feel Santino's gaze like fire.

From the corner of my eye, I saw one of his men start to descend the stairs toward us. Big guy, serious face, the kind who could break a neck with one hand.

I smiled sweetly. "Here comes the fun police."

The man stopped in front of me, voice low. "Miss Carter, Mr. Blackwood would like you to return home immediately."

"Oh?" I said, pretending to think. I leaned forward, brushing my fingers over his collar, my lips close enough that he tensed. "Tell Mr. Blackwood..." I whispered, "to go fuck himself."

And I smiled right at Santino and a man sitting beside him chuckled.

The man froze, eyes wide, not sure if he was supposed to drag me out or drop dead.

Dorian chuckled behind me, tightening his hold like he was staking a claim. "Message delivered, I hope."

Up on the balcony, Santino didn't move as the guy relayed the message. He just stared at me as the man beside him laughed louder and gave me a little wave. Santino's face was calm but eyes dark, darker than I'd ever seen.

Lila, who'd gone to get another drink, returned and froze when she saw the scene. "Oh my God, what did you do now?"

"Nothing," I said innocently.

Dorian snorted. "She just declared war on the devil himself."

Lila grabbed my wrist. "Then we're leaving before he decides to burn the place down!"

"Aw, come on!"

"No," she hissed, dragging both me and Dorian toward the exit. "You two idiots can flirt with danger later. We're going for ice cream."

Outside, the cool air hit my skin like water. The night was quiet compared to the club's chaos. Dorian parked near a small roadside café that glowed with yellow lights.

We sat on the hood of his car, each holding a cone. Lila licked hers like it was the last bit of peace in the world. "You know," she said, "I think your fiancé is secretly Satan."

"Pretty sure Satan has better hair," Dorian said.

I laughed, the sound was shaky but real. "He probably hates me more now."

Dorian tilted his head, watching me. "Then make him hate you so much he falls in love. Works every time."

I rolled my eyes. "You're an idiot."

"An attractive one," he said with a grin.

Lila groaned. "You two are impossible."

For a while, we sat there in silence, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. I felt almost normal almost like the girl I used to be before all the contracts and deals and fake smiles.

But somewhere deep down, I knew tonight wasn't over.

Santino Blackwood wasn't the kind of man to be disobeyed, not publicly, not like that. And I had just embarrassed him in front of a crowd.

I could still see the way his eyes burned into me before I left. cold, calculating, dangerous.

He would come for me.

And for some strange, terrifying reason...

a part of me wanted him to.