Chapter Three : Chains Of The Past

Chapter Three: Chains of the Past

Elena’s POV

The morning light crept through the heavy curtains, casting a dull glow over the room. I hadn’t slept. How could I? My mind replayed last night over and over—the way Lorenzo had looked at me like I was a mistake, the way his voice had cut through my soul when he told me I would never be free.

I was trapped.

But I wasn’t going to sit here and waste away.

A knock at the door startled me. Before I could respond, the handle turned, and a maid stepped inside. She was older, with graying hair and sharp eyes that had likely seen more than she let on.

“Signora DeLuca,” she said, her tone stiff. “The Don has requested your presence at breakfast.”

My stomach twisted at the title. Signora DeLuca. It felt foreign. Wrong.

I swallowed my unease and nodded. “I’ll be down shortly.”

She gave a quick nod and left, the door clicking shut behind her.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My wedding dress had been replaced with a silk nightgown, courtesy of the maids who must have changed me after I’d finally collapsed into restless sleep. My hair was a mess, my eyes swollen from crying.

Lorenzo would love to see me like this—weak and defeated.

I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

With shaking hands, I got up and walked to the closet. I chose a simple black dress, modest but elegant. If I was going to face Lorenzo, I would do it with dignity.

A Breakfast of Ice and Fire

When I entered the dining room, Lorenzo was already seated at the head of the long table. He looked effortlessly powerful, dressed in a crisp white shirt with the top buttons undone, his sleeves rolled up. His dark eyes flicked up when he saw me, his expression unreadable.

The room was silent except for the soft clinking of silverware against porcelain. Servants moved around us, but none of them dared to meet my gaze.

I took a slow breath and pulled out the chair across from him.

“Good morning, wife,” Lorenzo said smoothly, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I didn’t reply.

Instead, I focused on the plate in front of me. An elaborate breakfast spread—eggs, fruit, toast—but I had no appetite.

“Not hungry?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or are you waiting for me to taste it first in case it’s poisoned?”

I clenched my hands in my lap. “Why would I poison you?”

Lorenzo smirked. “Who knows? Maybe you hate me as much as I hate you.”

I met his gaze head-on. “Then we have something in common.”

A tense silence stretched between us. Lorenzo’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing. Instead, he picked up his coffee cup, sipping it slowly.

Then, just as I thought we might get through breakfast without another battle, a new voice cut through the room.

“You’ve got some nerve sitting there like you belong.”

I froze.

The voice was female—sharp and full of venom.

I turned my head and felt my stomach drop.

Standing in the doorway was a woman. Tall, stunning, with striking blue eyes and golden-blonde hair cascading down her back. She wore a tight red dress, her manicured nails digging into her crossed arms.

I didn’t know who she was, but I already knew she hated me.

Lorenzo exhaled heavily, rubbing his temple. “Not now, Bianca.”

Bianca.

The name hit me like a slap.

His fiancée.

The woman he was supposed to marry. The woman my sister was meant to replace before she ran away—leaving me in her place.

Bianca’s eyes burned with fury as she stalked toward the table. “Not now?” she repeated mockingly. “You think you can just brush me aside after what you did to me?”

Lorenzo’s expression darkened. “You know this wasn’t my choice.”

Bianca let out a bitter laugh. “Wasn’t your choice? Then why is she still here? Why haven’t you thrown her out like the trash she is?”

Her words stung, but I forced myself to keep my face blank.

I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me break.

Lorenzo sighed. “I told you, Bianca—this marriage was necessary.”

“So what?” Bianca spat. “You’re just going to pretend we never existed? That I never existed?”

Something flickered in Lorenzo’s eyes—guilt. Regret.

I wasn’t prepared for that.

For a brief moment, I saw the man beneath the cold exterior. The man who had once promised someone else a future, only to have it ripped away.

Then, just as quickly, his expression hardened again.

“This is the way things are now,” he said, his tone final.

Bianca scoffed. “You’re pathetic, Lorenzo. You let your father control you, just like a good little soldier. I bet you don’t even have the guts to defy him.”

Lorenzo’s entire body tensed. The air in the room turned suffocating.

Then, in a blur of movement, he stood, his chair scraping against the floor. His fist slammed against the table, making the plates rattle.

“I let you speak,” he growled. “But don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

Bianca flinched.

For the first time, fear crossed her face.

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing.

This was a dangerous game.

Bianca’s lips trembled, but she quickly masked it with anger. She turned her gaze to me, hatred burning in her eyes.

“You,” she hissed. “You ruined everything.”

I forced myself to stay calm. “I never asked for this.”

Bianca laughed coldly. “Oh, please. You expect me to believe you’re innocent? That you just happened to take my place?” She leaned in closer, her voice dripping with malice. “You might have fooled him, but you don’t fool me. I see you for what you are.”

My hands trembled under the table, but I didn’t let her see it.

I met her glare with steady eyes. “And what am I?”

Bianca smirked. “A desperate little girl playing dress-up as the mafia queen.”

I flinched, but before I could respond, Lorenzo’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

“Enough.”

Bianca turned to him, her eyes pleading. “Lorenzo, please…”

His expression was unreadable, but his voice was cold. “This conversation is over.”

Bianca’s face crumbled.

For the first time, she looked truly broken.

Her hands curled into fists before she turned on her heel and stormed out of the dining room, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

The silence she left behind was unbearable.

I stared down at my plate, my appetite completely gone.

Lorenzo didn’t sit back down. Instead, he grabbed his coffee cup and walked toward the door, pausing only for a moment.

His voice was quiet, almost unreadable.

“Don’t let her get to you.”

Then he was gone.

I sat there, my heart pounding.

Don’t let her get to me?

It wasn’t Bianca’s words that haunted me.

It was the way Lorenzo had reacted.

The flicker of something in his eyes when she accused him of being his father’s puppet. The way his fists had clenched, his whole body radiating tension.

He wasn’t as indifferent as he pretended to be.

And maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t the only one trapped in this marriage.