Chapter 7 : I Am Your Wife, Not Her
Chapter 7: I Am Your Wife, Not Her
My smile faltered for a split second but I regained it, forcing a bright and fake smile onto my face because I needed to hold on to my sanity. After all, I was tied to him until death do us part.
The private plane hummed quietly as if flew through the clouds, taking me further away from everything I knew. The plane was heading towards my honeymoon which was originally planned by Helena. I still remember when she gushed about the place of her honeymoon with Justin's brother but instead of going to her honeymoon, my sister chose revenge. I glanced at the man sitting in front of me, the man I had been forced to marry, my half-sister's ex-lover. How, here we were, heading to our honeymoon destinations, a private island retreat in the middle of a country that felt more like a prison than a paradise.
Unlike me, Justin seemed unbothered, his dark hair was always combed back as he ran a hand through his locks as he was looking through documents. He seemed to be occupied by work since he was the head of the Moretti family empire but his father would not step down yet. Lorenzo Moretti, a forty-five year old man. He was still strong and could lead with an iron fist but the man had missed the wedding between me and his son since he was on a business trip. That alone showed that the marriage was a fraud. I looked out the window again, my fingers clenched around the armrest of the seat. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the ocean below. But I couldn't find any peace in the breaktaking view. I had once thought that my marriage would be the final blow to cut myself away from my family. I wanted to marry a man who lived far away from my family, so that I could escape them but now I was bound by duty.
“Arianna?” Justin’s voice interrupted my flow of thought.
He was leaning forward slightly, his gaze fixed on me with a mixture of curiosity and caution as we hadn't had a serious conversation about our situation yet. I turned to face him, biting into my lower lip out of frustration.
“What?” I said sternly, unable to mask the bitterness in my tone. He hesitated for a moment, but his expression was unreadable.
“I was just wondering.” He began
“About your career as a model. I have seen your pictures in a magazine, you must have traveled to some great places.”
I felt sick when he mentioned my career since I didn't want him to talk about the only thing which I loved in my life. I loved him but I have a hard time showing my love for people who are in love with my sister. In my silence, he cleared his throat and continued.
“And I know that you are on a break from the runway scene but do you perhaps know when your next runway will be held? I want to come and watch.”
“Why? So you could fuck my sister on the runway scene?” I blurted out, turning away to stare out the window again.
He put the documents away in a harsh manner, his patience was wearing thin and he might have seemed as gentleman but he was far from it.
“Don't speak badly about Helena.” He muttered but I kept silent.
“Helena did break off the engagement with my younger brother, that can happen to everyone but I don't want you to speak badly about her.” He leaned back in his seat, wearing a cold expression.
“Why? I am your wife, not her.” I replied, staring at the cloud in the distance.
This time, it was him who grows silent at my words but he doesn't stay quiet for long.
“You are not the woman that I love, Arianna.” He said my name for the first time.
“Who are you in love with?” I asked faintly, my voice barely above a whisper.
I already knew the answer but it was better to put everything on the table.
“I am in love with Helena, your sister. She is the only woman I truly care about.” He admitted, revealing his feelings for my step-sister after we had just gotten married. It hasn't even been up to twenty hours.
“I will fulfill my role as your husband, but don't expect any love or affection. This marriage is just an agreement between our families, nothing more. Do you understand?” His words were cold, piercing through me like arrows. I fight back the tears threatening to fall and manage to reply.
“I understand.”
The silence between us stretched on, it was heavy with unspoken tension. I closed my eyes, trying to keep the tears that threatened to fall at bay. This wasn't how my marriage life was supposed to be. I had dreamed of love, of a partnership built on trust and respect. Instead I found myself trapped in a marriage of convenience, attached to a man who loves my sister. Could my life get any worse?
We had arrived at the luxurious villa, a beach house large enough to fit around fifty guests while the house was right beside the sea. Justin parked the car in the driveway as he stepped out, and so did I. I could not deny the beauty of the island, there were palm trees everywhere and the weather was warm which I loved. I can think of this as a small vacation.
“Mr. and Mrs. Moretti, please allow me to take your luggages.” A butler greeted us, ready to take our bags into the villa.
“Hello, Jorge. Go ahead.” Justin replied, as he seemed to know the man.
‘Do you know him?” I blurted out without thinking while Jorge went to get our bags and brought them inside the house.
“Yes, he arrived yesterday because he is the head of the butlers of my home.” He answered as I walked closer to the beautiful villa.
“I called him because he is trustworthy enough to be inside the villa which I built for Helena because I have spent time with her here.” He said, passing by me without a second thought.
I halted in my steps, lost for words when I saw him walk into the house like he didn't care that I had to spend my honeymoon in a house he built for my sister. I swallowed down the suffocating pain I felt and I didn't step inside the villa. I couldn't do it, it was too much for me. Instead, I wandered around it until I reached the crystal blue beach which comforted me. I walked on the warm sand until I reached the sea and I wished that I could drown.
“He is so cruel.” I mumbled to myself, gripping into the material of my summer dress.
What a sane woman would want to hear from her husband about the villa he built for her own sister? Nobody would want to hear that unless the woman is addicted to pain.
