My First, My Last, My Everything

Chapter 41

Gabriella

"This engagement is our way of bringing the Black Army Mafia together and building a bond. Gloriana is part of our family and shares the Antonio bloodline. Marrying her to Anthony Castillo is your father's preferred choice. Try to see things from our perspective, Gabby."

I tuned out my mother's words, my focus fixed on the wall, deliberately ignoring her.

She sighed and turned back to Layla, her personal fashion designer. They were deep in discussion about outfits for the engagement party of Anthony and Gloriana happening the next night.

I found myself in my mother's home office, coerced into sitting on a plush couch, my attention rooted to the wall. She had dragged me here to talk fashion for the party and to solicit my opinions.

My response was silence—a deliberate choice, a cold shoulder. I intended to maintain this silence, hoping it would convey my feelings more powerfully than words.

I wanted her to feel what I felt when the news of the engagement hit me like a ton of bricks a few hours ago.

I had emotionally distanced myself, pushing to speak only when absolutely necessary and struggling to keep my composure.

"I think this dress will suit her skin tone perfectly. This is the one," Layla's voice broke through my thoughts, redirecting my attention.

In my peripheral vision, I saw her hand something to my mother. She then walked towards me.

"Here you go, sweetie. Your dress for tomorrow night." I reluctantly lifted my gaze, noticing the dress bag in her hand and the smile on her face.

Standing, I accepted the bag without meeting her gaze, turning to move past her. But her hand grabbed my arm, forcing me to face her. Looking into her eyes, I remembered she was part of the reason for my current turmoil.

"Don't touch me again," I said, yanking my arm from her grip.

"Look, honey, I get how you're feeling right now—"

"Do you?" I snapped.

"I'm sorry, alright? What could I do? It's your father who calls the shots. We didn't mean to hurt you this way, but you must understand it's for your own good."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

"Still, you all have no fucking idea about what I'm going through. I'm so angry right now to the point of hurting any of  you feels like the only thing that could ease my pain, regardless of you being my family. That's how I feel right now." Tears welled up in her eyes as her jaw dropped.

"You don't mean that," she stammered.

"I meant every word," I retorted.

I stormed out, ignoring Layla's trembles as she clung to a nearby table, having overheard everything I said to my mother.

It was true; the anger simmering inside made me entertain murderous thoughts about my own family's fate for putting me in this situation.

Descending the stairs, I ran straight into Gloriana, who immediately became an unwelcome sight.

"In a hurry, cousin?"

"Aren't you supposed to be planning a wedding?" I shot back.

"That's exactly what I'm doing. It's going to be an unimaginably perfect event," she quipped.

"Good luck with that."

"My fiancé surely agrees, don't you think?" My blood ran cold. My fists clenched involuntarily. Slowly, I turned to face her.

"Frankly, I wasn't expecting to get engaged so soon, but when I met him a few hours ago, it was like love at first sight. I'm probably the luckiest one in this family, marrying a hot and powerful man like that."

Annoyance surged, and I struggled against the urge to strike her caked-up face.

"You're treading on dangerous ground, Gloriana," I warned in a low tone, but she smirked.

"Will you be joining us at the engagement party tomorrow? Oh, right, you don't really have a choice."

Her laughter echoed as I glared.

"I wonder how you'll feel, sitting alone and watching my dear fiancé slip a ring on my finger, announcing our upcoming wedding."

Silence hung between us.

"I just found out about your secret affair with Anthony from Noah. You're sneakier than I thought, cousin. But it's history now. You and Anthony aren't a thing anymore. Seems like you enjoy ruining relationships these days, including your own. Twice with poor Anthony. But don't worry, he's in good hands now, I'm willing to make ours last."

She turned and ascended the stairs, her fake curls bouncing.

"See you at the engagement, cousin!" she called before vanishing upstairs.

Unclenching my fists, I saw my bleeding palms—unnoticed wounds from restraining myself.

Next time, it might not be my own blood staining my hands.