Page 31 of His Enemy's Daughter
“Smart man.” Father’s approval makes my stomach turn. “He understands the natural order. You’ll learn your place in his home.”
“I won’t do it.” The refusal escapes before I can think better of it. “Father, I won’t marry him.”
The silence that follows is arctic. Father sets down his pen with deliberate precision, then stands—moving around the desk with predatory grace.
“You won’t?” His voice drops dangerously low. “Since when do you have the authority to refuse anything I decide?”
“Since I’m a person, not a bargaining chip—”
The slap comes so fast I don’t see it coming. My head snaps to the side, cheek exploding with pain, copper flooding my mouth where my teeth cut flesh.
“You have no rights except the ones I grant you.” Father’s face is inches from mine, and for the first time I see the monster underneath. “Everything you are exists because I allow it. Speak to me with that tone again, and I’ll remind you exactly how easily I can take it all away.”
My hand trembles against my burning cheek, fighting tears that would only give him satisfaction.
“The wedding is in six weeks.” He returns to his desk, dismissing me like dismissed staff. “Rosalia will handle the details. You’ll attend every event, smile for every camera, and play the grateful daughter. Any deviation, and I’ll ensure Lorenzo receives a full accounting of your... rebellious tendencies. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Father.” The words taste like poison.
“Good. Now get out.”
I maintain composure until I’m out of sight. Then I’m running through hallways that suddenly close in, past staff who avert their eyes, up endless stairs.
My bedroom door slams behind me. The panic hits like a freight train—breath coming in gasps that don’t bring oxygen, heart slamming against my ribs, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision.
I slide down the door, knees pulled to chest, trying to remember Dr. Muni’s breathing exercises. But all I can see is Lorenzo Di Noto’s face—cold calculation in his eyes, that cruel smile when he talked about control.
The sob that tears from my throat sounds animal. I press my fist against my mouth, but the panic is a living thing now—consuming everything.
“Regina.”
I look up through tears to find Giordano standing inside my door, gray eyes filled with concern that cracks something in my chest.
“I heard everything.” He closes the door with careful silence, then kneels beside me. “The whole household heard, though they’ll pretend they didn’t.”
“Six weeks, Giordano.” The words come out broken. “Six weeks until—”
“Breathe.” His hand finds mine, steady and warm. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. Come on,piccola, with me.”
The endearment unlocks something. I focus on his breathing, matching my gasps to his rhythm until the panic recedes enough to think.
“I can’t marry him,” I whisper. “He’ll destroy me.”
“I know.” His thumb traces circles on my hand, and something in his expression shifts—resolve hardening beneath concern. “Regina, I need to tell you something I should have told you months ago.”
The seriousness cuts through my panic. “What?”
“I know what you’ve been doing.” Each word lands like a stone. “The late nights in your father’s office. The files you’ve been accessing. I know about Mauricio Barone. About your meetings, the flash drives, the intelligence exchange. I’ve known you’ve been investigating your father for months, and I’ve been covering for you.”
Ice floods my veins. “How?”
“Because I’ve been watching Sabino’s digital security for years. I know every system in this house, every camera, every protocol.” A bitter smile crosses his face. “I’ve been waiting for you to find a way out.”
“You knew and didn’t tell Father?”
“Because I care about you.” His hand tightens on mine. “Because watching him treat you like property for twenty-eight years has been slowly killing me. The daughter I never had deserves better than this gilded cage.”
Tears spill down my cheeks. “Why didn’t you say something?”
