Chapter 2

Serena

W e return from the party, and I slip away quietly, heading to Salvatore's office, a place I've never dared to enter before. He didn't even bother locking his office door, so certain of my obedience that he didn't feel the need to. I clench my teeth, pushing the thought away.

I search through the drawers, feeling anxious and unsteady, sifting through piles of contracts and business agreements. Papers rustle and files move around until my fingers finally touch what they're searching for.I pull it out, my breath hitching as I read the words confirming what I dreaded: our marriage is arranged.

The same hands that once cradled me in “love”—are the same hands that signed this contract. I trace the lines of ink with trembling fingers, each word unraveling my perfect life. I can’t breathe. It feels like I’m dying.

I hurl the contract onto the desk. It lands with a dull thud. I stumble back, away from the papers like they are on fire, and catch my reflection in the mirror.

I stare at the woman staring back at me—dyed blond locks that shimmered like gold but now felt like chains, a nose sculpted under the surgeon's knife to fit my parents' vision of perfection, lips plumped with filler to create an everlasting sexy pout.

Salvatore Agosti’s little doll, manipulated into existence for a business transaction. I am sculpted to be this man’s fantasy. I am not me. I am a creation, an illusion crafted to satisfy their desires, their greed.

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the dryness of every strand, all as a result of frying my natural curls away. For fuck’s sake, almost every piece of clothing in my closet has been chosen for me by my mother. It’s like I am a puppet on a string, being controlled to play the part of Mr. Agosti’s perfect wife.

I collapse to the ground, mascara-coated tears streaking down my cheeks. I thought what we had was real. But it was all lies. All lies. How could I have been so fucking blind? I gave everything—my heart, my soul—believing in a love that never existed.

I bury my face in my hands, the truth overwhelming me. I was never his equal, never his partner. I was a trophy, eye candy on his arm.

My mind races, replaying the contents of the contract over and over. The cold legality of it all sears through my heart—my father's signature alongside Salvatore’s, discussing all the benefits that come with this sick deal of theirs. I would have expected this from my father, but from Salvatore? Never.

Bitterness gnaws at my insides. All the times he slept with me, they were never about passion or love. It’s like I am a fancy prostitute. Everything he ever did was to keep me blind and compliant. I would have never agreed to this if I knew the truth. How could I have been so naive, so easily manipulated into playing this role? Two years. Two years of him pretending like what I thought we had was real.

The door creaks open behind me, his heavy presence filling the room. I turn to look at him. His frame fills the doorway, his bulk and height casting a shadow over me. He steps forward, his expression unreadable.

"Serena," he says, his voice low and controlled. "What are you doing here? You know my office is off-limits."

I meet his gaze defiantly, my lips twisted in an ugly scowl. "I found your precious contract," I spit out, not feeling apologetic for snooping. "The one that binds us together like some business transaction."

Salvatore's jaw tightens, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "You weren't supposed to see that," he replies icily.

"Supposed to see what?" I retort. "That I've been living a lie? That I am nothing to you?"

He takes another step closer, his gaze piercing mine. "It was necessary. It protects what matters," he says, like this is all just a major inconvenience to him, and not my life falling apart.

"What matters?" I scoff, incredulous. "Your empire? Your business deals?"

Salvatore’s huge fists clench and unclench at his sides. "Yes," he admits, his voice gravelly. "But also you, Serena."

I laugh bitterly, tears stinging my eyes. "Don't," I choke out, so close to breaking completely. "Don't pretend like this was ever about me."

I grab the crumpled contract from the desk and throw it in his face. "Are you happy with your masterpiece?" I growl through gritted teeth.

His gaze hardens, throwing the contract back on the desk. "It's our reality, Serena," he says.

"And what about me, Salvatore?" I challenge. "Have you ever thought about me in all of this?"

He hesitates, his mask slipping for just a moment. "I never meant to hurt you," he admits.

"But you did," I whisper, my heart shattering into a million pieces. "You did."

I sit on the chair, wiping the mascara streaks from my face. I struggle to stop my breakdown while Salvatore just stands there, unmoving, his expression stoic. He isn’t affected by this at all. Why would he be?

"Why?" I finally burst out, desperation lacing my voice. "Don't you love me? Did I really mean nothing to you?" Embarrassment washes over me, turning my spray tanned skin red. I’m still starved for his affection, for his love. How pathetic.

I hate myself for being so weak, for still seeking him out like a moth to a flame, knowing I'll only get burned.

"Love is not part of this equation, Serena," he says cruelly. "You were never meant to be loved."

His words hit me like a physical blow, and I gasp like I’ve been punched. I feel a surge of pain and anger, overwhelming and consuming.

"Then what am I to you?" I demand foolishly, still so desperate for a man that doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me. "A pawn? A trophy?"

Salvatore plasters his body to mine, our breaths mingle. His lips are so close to mine that I stupidly think for a second he might kiss me.

"You are what I need you to be," he delivers the deadly blow. "Nothing more."

I charge at him, anger flowing through my bloodstream. My sanity has slipped away from me. As I scream and scratch at him, my vision blurs with a red mist.

I have lost control over my own actions. The room whirls around me, my heart beating so loudly that rational thought is drowned out. I am shaking, my body jerking with cries and yells. I clutch his arms tightly, sinking my nails into his skin while shouting in his direction.

"Don't you love me? Don't you fucking love me?"

His expression remains cold, unmoved by my outburst. He pushes me, and I fall to the cold ground, looking up at him in disbelief. He never laid a hand on me before... I guess that now that I found out the truth, there is no longer a need for him to act like the doting husband. He’s going to be a beast with me, just like he is at his business table.

"No," he says firmly, finality dripping off the word. "I don't."

"I hate you," I choke out, my voice barely audible through the anguish. "I hate you for making me believe that you do..."

Instantly, I regret admitting my feelings, showing my vulnerability. I swallow the lump in my throat, realizing that hatred is still an emotion, still a connection. He doesn’t deserve any part of me, not my love, not my hate. Indifference is what will make him realize what he lost. He doesn’t deserve any ounce of emotion from me.

Salvatore watches me silently, like it isn’t his wife that he just broke. He didn’t even flinch when I said I hated him; he doesn’t give a shit about me or my feelings. As he turns his back to me and leaves, it is then I decide that he will be nothing to me too.

My head is aching, my eyes hurting real bad from all the crying. I know there is no getting out of this. It would be a cold day in hell before my father would let me file for divorce. Divorce is not an option, not when it means going up against a man like him, or my father-in-law, or my “husband.” Their influence stretches far and wide, they would stop at nothing to ensure I remain bound to this marriage.

Instead of fighting a losing battle, I will adapt. Like them, I’ll approach this like a business deal. No matter how much it tears me apart inside to pretend like the man who has my heart is nothing, I’ll put the pain aside. Let the game of indifference begin.