I curl up on the plush chaise lounge in the lavish bridal suite, wrapping my arms around my knees as I try to make myself as small as possible. The ornate room feels like a gilded cage, and the glares from Vincent's maids cut deeper than any physical wound.
"Well, don't you look like a pathetic little thing," one of the maids sneers, her eyes narrowed with disdain. "Russo's gone soft, letting a street rat like you into his world."
"Probably just wants a new plaything to warm his bed," another chimes in with a cruel laugh. "Though I can't imagine he'll keep you around for long once the novelty wears off."
Their words sting, but I remain silent, knowing any response from me will only fuel their vitriol. I'm just a prisoner in this twisted game, a pawn in Vincent's grand schemes.
"Come on, girl," the first maid barks, grabbing my arm and hauling me to my feet. "Time to get you dolled up for your big day."
They strip me of my tattered clothing, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. I flinch as they prod and poke, fussing over my appearance like I'm a doll to be dressed and primped for their amusement.
"At least Russo has good taste in dresses," one of them begrudgingly admits, holding up the extravagant gown they've been instructed to dress me in. "Though it's a shame to waste such finery on trash like you."
I bite my tongue, swallowing the retort that threatens to spill forth. Angering them further will only lead to more torment, and I've already endured enough pain in Vincent's world.
As they lace me into the dress, the fabric feels like a noose tightening around my neck, constricting my ability to breathe freely. The weight of the embroidered skirt is a constant reminder of the chains that bind me to this life, a life I never asked for.
"Turn around, let me see," the maid demands, her eyes raking over my form with a critical gaze.
I comply, slowly pivoting on the spot, the dress swirling around me like a deadly embrace.
"Not bad," she concedes with a shrug. "At least Russo will have something pretty to look at, even if it's just for a night."
Her words cut deep, but I refuse to let them see the tears that threaten to spill. I am stronger than they think, stronger than even I realize. And if I'm to survive this ordeal, I must hold onto that strength with every fiber of my being.
As they fuss with my hair and makeup, I steel myself for the ordeal to come. Vincent may have won this battle, but the war for my freedom is far from over. One way or another, I will find a way to break free from his twisted grasp, even if it costs me everything.
I stand before the mirror, my reflection a haunting beauty trapped in a gilded cage. The embroidered off-shoulder wedding gown clings to my curves, a vision of elegance that conceals the terror within. My hair, twisted into a messy bun, is adorned with a delicate veil - a mockery of the freedom I yearn for. The maids have done their job well, painting my face to perfection, but no amount of makeup can hide the fear in my eyes.
The maids circle me like vultures, their sharp tongues lashing out with cruel jabs. "Look at her, thinking she's something special," one sneers, her eyes filled with envy and disdain.
Another maid chimes in, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Poor little commoner girl, snagging the boss's attention. Don't get too comfortable, sweetheart."
I bite my tongue, swallowing the bile that rises in my throat. They're right, of course. I'm nothing more than a pawn in Vincent's twisted game, a prize he's determined to claim.
"I bet she won't last a week," a third maid whispers loudly, her lips curling into a malicious grin. "Vincent will tire of her soon enough, and then she'll be tossed aside like yesterday's trash."
Their laughter echoes in the bridal suite, a cacophony of cruelty that makes my skin crawl. I force a smile, nodding along with their taunts. "You're right," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm nothing special."
The maids exchange surprised glances, caught off guard by my agreement. "Well, at least she knows her place," one of them scoffs, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
I turn away from the mirror, my gaze falling on the extravagant bouquet resting on a nearby table. The blooms are a vibrant burst of color against the stark white of my gown, a reminder of the life I once had - a life now lost to me.
"It's almost time," a maid announces, her voice cutting through the tension. "The boss is waiting."
My heart races, a frantic beat against my ribcage. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the nightmare that awaits me. "I'm ready," I lie, my voice trembling despite my best efforts.
The maids usher me out of the room, their hands gripping my arms with bruising force. As we walk through the mansion's opulent halls, I catch glimpses of my reflection in the ornate mirrors lining the walls. The woman staring back at me is a stranger, a ghost of the girl I used to be.
"Remember, you belong to Vincent now," a maid hisses in my ear, her breath hot against my skin. "You'd better play your part well, or you'll regret it."
I nod, my throat constricting with unshed tears. They're right, of course. I'm trapped in this nightmare, with no escape in sight. But even as despair threatens to consume me, a flicker of determination sparks within my soul. I may be broken, but I'm not defeated. Somehow, someway, I'll find a way to break free from Vincent's cruel grasp - or die trying.
I take a deep breath as Antonio escorts me out of the bridal suite, his grip firm on my arm. The opulent hallways blur past as we make our way towards the ballroom, each step bringing me closer to my impending fate.
Clutching my bouquet tightly, I try to steady my trembling hands. "Antonio, please... I can't do this. There has to be another way."
He remains stoic, his voice devoid of emotion. "There is no other way, Samantha. You belong to Vincent now."
As we enter the ballroom, a sea of unfamiliar faces turn to stare at me, their eyes filled with a mix of awe and jealousy. I spot three women glaring at me, their envy palpable.
"Look at her, thinking she's better than us," one of them whispers loudly.
"Vincent must have lost his mind, choosing a common girl like her," another scoffs.
I keep my head high, refusing to let their words break me. Scanning the room, I notice Vincent's parents, their expressions unreadable.
The wedding march begins, its melody a haunting soundtrack to my despair. Antonio drags me down the aisle, each step feeling like a death sentence.
And there he is-Vincent, standing tall in his tuxedo, a cigar dangling from his lips. His eyes lock with mine, a triumphant smirk on his face.
Tears stream down my cheeks as I approach him, my heart pounding in my chest. This can't be happening. I'm not ready for this nightmare to become my
