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Anya’s POV
Days turned into weeks, and life inside the mansion continued on its relentless cycle. I felt like a ghost haunting my own existence, drifting through rooms and halls that seemed to hold secrets in every shadow. Despite my best efforts to keep a brave face, the walls felt like they were closing in around me. Rocco’s presence loomed over me, a constant reminder of my captivity.
Determined to uncover the truth about why I was here and what Rocco planned, I started to piece together fragments of conversations and clues I’d overheard. My father’s betrayal hung in the air, and I needed to understand its depths.
One afternoon, as I wandered through the mansion’s expansive library, a thought struck me. Perhaps the answers I sought were buried in the past—my father’s past. I moved from shelf to shelf, scanning titles, hoping to find something that would illuminate the darkness surrounding our lives.
My fingers brushed against a leather-bound book, its spine worn and dust-covered. The title read, The History of the Montenegro Family. My heart raced as I pulled it from the shelf, blowing away the dust and flipping through the pages. The book chronicled the Montenegro lineage, detailing the family's rise to power, wealth, and the grudges that accompanied it.
As I read, snippets of information began to connect. My father had made enemies over the years—dangerous enemies—because of deals gone wrong. The book mentioned a rival family, the Rocco family, and the infamous patriarch, Alessandro Rocco, whose empire was built on fear and manipulation. My husband, Rocco, was his son.
Just then, I heard footsteps approaching. Panic surged through me, and I quickly shoved the book back onto the shelf and pretended to peruse another. Rocco entered the library, his sharp gaze sweeping over me.
“Caught in the act of searching for secrets?” he asked, his tone mocking yet smooth.
I swallowed hard, resisting the urge to flinch under his gaze. “I was just... looking for something to read,” I lied, forcing a casual tone.
He stepped closer, inspecting the books I had been skimming. “You should stick to fairy tales, Anya. Reality is far more brutal than you can imagine.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” I challenged, meeting his gaze with defiance. “You make it sound like I’m too naive to understand what’s happening around me.”
A smirk tugged at his lips. “You are naive. You’re trapped in a web spun by your father’s choices, and you’re blissfully unaware of the dangers that lurk just beyond these walls.”
“What dangers?” I asked, my curiosity piqued despite my fear. “What does your family want from mine?”
He hesitated, as if weighing whether to divulge more. “Revenge, Anya. Your father has crossed us for the last time, and this marriage is merely the beginning of what we intend to reclaim.”
“Reclaim?” I echoed, confusion flooding my mind. “What does that even mean?”
Before he could respond, a loud crash echoed from outside the library. We both turned toward the sound, and I could see a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.
“Stay here,” he ordered, stepping toward the door.
I watched him leave, heart racing. This was my chance. I hurried to the bookshelf where I had found the book and quietly pulled it back out, flipping through the pages in search of more clues about my father’s past and what exactly Rocco meant by “revenge.”
The words blurred as my thoughts raced. I couldn’t let him control me; I needed to know what I was truly up against.
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Rocco’s POV
Outside, chaos reigned. One of my men had collided with a rival gang member who had dared to trespass on my territory. It was a warning I had to send, and as I dealt with the situation, my mind drifted back to Anya.
She was an intriguing distraction, though I couldn’t afford to let my feelings cloud my judgment. She was my ticket to settling the score with her father, but I found myself drawn to her resilience.
Returning to the library, I found her still standing by the shelf, her face pale as she shoved the book back into place.
“What were you reading?” I asked, keeping my tone even.
“Just some family history,” she replied, her voice steady, but I could see the flicker of fear in her eyes.
I stepped closer, narrowing my gaze. “I suggest you stay out of matters that don’t concern you. The past can be a dangerous thing to uncover.”
Anya straightened, a spark of defiance igniting in her expression. “I have a right to know the truth about why I’m here. My life is being manipulated by the choices of others. I won’t just stand by and be a pawn in your game.”
The fire in her voice surprised me. It was both infuriating and captivating. “You’re brave, Anya. But bravery won’t shield you from the consequences of knowledge.”
“Or ignorance,” she shot back, and I couldn’t help but admire her spirit. “If I’m going to survive this, I need to understand it.”
“Fine,” I said, surprising myself. “But knowledge comes at a price. Are you willing to pay it?”
“What price?” she asked, her brows furrowing in suspicion.
“Trust,” I replied, my voice low. “You’ll have to trust me if you want to uncover the truth. And trust, Anya, is a dangerous game.”
She hesitated, the weight of my words sinking in. “If I trust you, what happens then?”
“Then you’ll find out that nothing in this life is simple, and sometimes the truth is worse than the lies,” I answered, my voice barely above a whisper.
She looked away, considering my words, and for a moment, I wondered if I had revealed too much. But as she turned back to face me, determination shone in her eyes.
“I’ll trust you,” she said, her voice steady. “But only if you promise not to use me as a pawn.”
“Trust is a two-way street, Anya,” I warned, an edge creeping into my voice. “You must understand that I have my own agenda.”
“I can handle that,” she replied firmly.
A silence fell between us, heavy with unspoken tension. Perhaps this fragile alliance could lead to something unexpected—something I hadn’t anticipated when I first agreed to this marriage.
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To be continued...
