Sinful Flames

Chapter 53

It had been a week since my mother had introduced me to that sleazebag of a fiancé. A week of biting my tongue and trying to figure out how to escape this madness they'd forced me into. Every day, I watched my mother become more of a stranger, a hollow version of the woman she once was.

And my father... well, his attempts at connection were pathetic, but they didn't sting as much as the betrayal that cut deep every time I looked at him. This place, this life, was suffocating me. Everyone was a pawn in my parents' game of power, and I felt trapped in the middle of it, but I refused to play along. I'd rather burn it all to the ground.

One afternoon, as I made my way through the hallways, I overheard something that made my blood boil. One of my father's men, a brute named Luca, was harassing one of the maids. He had her cornered in the kitchen, his filthy hands roaming where they didn't belong. The maid, young and terrified, was clearly trying to resist, but her fear made her voice small.

Without thinking, I stormed into the room. The heat of my fury burned inside me, and before anyone could react, I grabbed Luca by his greasy hair and yanked him backward. He let out a yelp of surprise as I twisted his arm behind him and kicked him hard in the shin.

He dropped to his knees, groaning in pain as I held him in place. The commotion drew attention, and within seconds, a crowd had gathered, including my mother. She marched in, her face a mask of fury, but I didn't stop. I gave Luca one last shove, releasing him from my grip, and turned to the trembling maid. "Are you alright?" I asked her softly, ignoring the murmurs and gasps from the onlookers. She nodded shakily, wiping a tear from her cheek.

"Chiara, stop this madness at once!" My mother's voice cut through the tension like a whip. She glared at me, her eyes burning with anger. "That's enough! You're making a scene." I turned to face her, my chest heaving with righteous anger. "A scene? He was harassing her!" I gestured to the maid. "And you think that's acceptable?" My mother crossed her arms, her expression cold. "It's the maid's duty to fulfill our needs. She knows her place."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The woman who raised me, who had once told me that respect was earned, not demanded, was now defending this vile behavior. I took a step toward her, my voice low and shaking with disgust. "Do you even hear yourself? Are you even a woman?"

The slap came fast, stinging my cheek with a sharp crack. The room fell into silence as everyone stared, waiting for me to react. I didn't flinch. I stood tall, refusing to let her see how much her slap hurt. Instead, I met her eyes with defiance. "There's something called consent," I said coldly, my voice trembling with restrained rage. "But I guess you've forgotten what that means."

For the first time, Gio spoke up, surprising me. "She's right," he muttered. His tone wasn't exactly supportive, but the fact that he said anything at all was unexpected. I shot him a look of pure annoyance. I didn't need or want his approval. "I don't need your support, Gio," I snapped. He glared at me, his jaw tightening. "Don't flatter yourself, Chiara. I just hate cowards who can't handle rejection."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Of course, he had to make it about himself. Turning back to Luca, who was still on the floor, nursing his injuries, I gave him a final warning. "If you ever lay a hand on anyone without their consent again, I'll make sure you regret it. Understand?" He nodded frantically, too afraid to do anything else.

"Enough!" My mother's voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. "This ends now. Go to your room, Chiara, and get ready for tonight. There's no time for your tantrums." I didn't move. I stared her down, hating every inch of her, but there was nothing more to say. Everyone dispersed, the crowd retreating back into their usual roles, pretending like they hadn't just witnessed my mother slap me. As if it were a normal occurrence in this twisted household.

I turned on my heel and stormed back to my room, the anger still pulsing in my veins. As I reached my door, Gio appeared again, blocking my path. "You better not try anything tonight, Chiara," he said, his tone mocking. "It's a big night for the family. Just be obedient for once." I raised an eyebrow at him, my lips curling into a sneer. "Or what, Gio? You'll hit me like your brother? Please. Get out of my way." He glared at me, but said nothing more, stepping aside to let me pass.

As he left, I slammed the door behind him, wishing I could lock it and never come out. The masquerade ball was to celebrate the Vittore family's grand comeback, as well as announce my engagement to that sleazy Angelo heir. My mother had been preparing for this night for weeks, every detail meticulously planned. And I was supposed to play the obedient daughter, standing beside a man I loathed, while my parents paraded me like a prize. No. I wasn't going to let them win.

I opened my wardrobe and pulled out the gown my mother had chosen for me -a traditional, elegant thing in deep red, with a flowing skirt and a modest neckline. I tossed it aside, opting instead for something that would make a statement. A black gown with a high slit up one leg, plunging neckline, and an open back. It clung to me in all the right places, accentuating every curve. It was bold, defiant, and everything my mother would hate.

I smiled to myself as I slipped it on, adding the final touch with a black lace mask. Let her be furious, I thought. Let them all see what they've created. The ball was already in full swing when I made my entrance. The grand ballroom was filled with people, all dressed in their finest attire, masks covering their faces but not their true intentions.

My mother stood on the stage, beside my father, giving some grand speech about the Vittore legacy and how tonight marked the beginning of a new era. When she got to the part about my engagement, she gestured for me to join her on stage. I refused. I stood at the back of the room, watching with a champagne flute in hand, as my father covered for me, saying I was too shy to come forward.

Shy. I nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all. Shy was the last thing I was. I drained my champagne and walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Before I could get far, a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me into a dark corner. It was him-my supposed fiancé. The sleaze. His eyes roamed over my body, filled with lust and entitlement.

"You look incredible tonight," he said, his voice low and slimy. "Come here, give me a kiss." I stared at him for a moment, disgust curling in my stomach. Then I slammed my fist into his face, feeling the satisfying crunch of his nose under my knuckles. He stumbled back, his hand flying to his face as he whimpered in pain. "Touch me again," I warned him, "and you'll lose more than your pride." He gulped, his bravado crumbling as he backed away, retreating like the coward he was.

But before I could make my escape, someone grabbed me from behind, yanking me into the shadows.