Page 52 of Unworthy Ties
The door creaked ominously on its hinges as I backed away, my breath quickening with every step. The once-inviting warmth of the office had turned icy, enveloping me in a suffocating shroud of dread. I could feel it crawling up my spine—the weightof hidden truths pressing down on me like an oppressive fog. It settled in my chest, too heavy to ignore, as I grappled with the implications of what I had uncovered.
I didn’t stop to collect the scattered papers or glance back at the folder. Every fiber of my being screamed to get out. My heels clattered against the marble floors as I bolted toward the elevator, heart hammering so loudly it seemed to echo in the empty penthouse.
There should have been a hulking figure near the doorway to stop me, but he was completely distracted. Muffled groans and the unmistakable sound of water hitting porcelain confirmed it: Marco/Mario was still trapped on the toilet.
The elevator doors closed with a metallic sigh, leaving the penthouse—and the weight of what I had discovered—behind me. My chest heaved, each breath sharp and uneven. My mind spun, replaying the files, the numbers, that my entire life had been chosen and calculated. Anger and betrayal twisted together in a storm I couldn’t tame.
I stumbled onto the quiet street below, the city lights blurring through tears I didn’t bother to stop. I just needed to get away, to put some distance between me and that gilded cage.
A sudden jolt yanked me sideways, metal against my arm, and before I could even register it, a hooded figure slammed into me. My purse was ripped from my shoulder as another hand clamped over my mouth, cutting off my scream. Panic ignited, muscles straining, but they were too strong, too precise.
The world became a chaotic whirl of asphalt and flashing lights as I was shoved roughly into the back of a van. The door slammed shut behind me, the sudden darkness pressing in. I clawed at the walls, heart hammering, but the air was heavy, suffocating.
A faint, sweet chemical scent filled my nostrils. My eyes widened in alarm, the panic in my chest spiking. I tried topull away, tried to scream, but the cloth pressed harder against my face. My limbs grew heavy, betraying me with each passing second.
The city outside blurred into nothing, and a cold fog crept through my mind. My struggles slowed, my thoughts muddled, until the last thing I registered was the muffled sound of the van’s engine before darkness claimed me completely.
Chapter 27
Rocco
Iinstantly noticed something was amiss the moment I walked into the penthouse. The front door should have been guarded, but Marco was noticeably absent. The bathroom delivered a cacophony of splashes, grunts, and the occasional thump, as if waging war with the plumbing.
I rapped lightly on the bathroom door. “Hello? You okay in there?” I asked, wanting to confirm the occupant.
“I’m fine.” Marco’s muffled response was barely discernible.
I left it at that. I needed to find Gabriella; needed to confirm she was okay. My eyes darted around the empty living space, every instinct screaming that something was wrong. The penthouse felt too quiet, too still.
Then my eyes caught the office door. Normally, it was locked, untouchable. Not tonight. It was ajar, a thin line of light spilling out. My pulse tightened. Something wasn’t right. I movedtoward it, senses on high alert, every step measured, every shadow a possible threat.
I approached the office cautiously, every muscle coiled like a spring. The door creaked slightly as I nudged it with a fingertip, just enough to peek inside without announcing my presence.
The desk was a mess—papers scattered, folders askew. Something had clearly been rifled through. My stomach dropped.
And then I noticed the chair pushed back from the desk as if someone had left in a hurry. My pulse quickened. Gabriella.
A cold knot of fear tightened in my chest. She wasn’t in the office. Not here. Not anywhere I could see.
I scanned the rest of the penthouse, every hallway, every shadow, my mind racing. The faint echo of her footsteps, or maybe the lack thereof, stung like an alarm. Something was wrong.
“Gabriella,” I called out, although in my heart I knew it was only to hear the hollow echo of my own voice. “Gabriella?”
No answer.
I walked back into my office, my eyes sweeping over every inch of the room. Papers lay scattered like fallen leaves, the chaos a portrait of desperation.
I crouched down, scanning for any document that could serve as a clue. One document caught my eye; it contained the list of potential brides my father had assembled. I picked it up carefully, flipping through the pages. Names, stats, family connections—all meticulously cataloged. My stomach twisted.
When I had first looked at it, it was no different than looking at a menu, an assortment of choices laid out. Now, there was only one girl on the list I could imagine spending my life with, and that was Gabriella.
A cold spike of panic shot through me. She had seen this. The neat calculations, the lists, the way her life had been reducedto numbers and family ties—it had all been laid bare, and now nothing was the same.
I pressed my hands to my face, trying to still the storm of fear and anger that churned in my chest. Everything I’d controlled, every plan I’d kept secret, had shifted in an instant. Gabriella’s eyes, her trust, the fragile balance of what we had was all suddenly in jeopardy.
The sound of the water shut off. I heard Marco emerge from the bathroom, his presence a sudden interruption to the suffocating silence.
I slammed the folder down on the desk, the impact echoing through the office. My blood was pounding, and every instinct screamed that I needed her,now.
