CHAPTER 5 — The Decision

The argument continued. Chiara’s voice echoed while Giovanni sat rubbing his forehead. Valentina stood beside her mother, tears still falling. “I won’t do it!” she cried. “I’m not marrying him!”

Chiara looked at her daughter, then suddenly an idea flickered across her face. Her eyes shifted to the staircase—to Vivienne. Vivienne had reached the bottom step and stood quietly, confused by the chaos unfolding.

Chiara’s expression changed—slowly, calculating. “Wait.” The room fell silent and everyone turned toward her.

She stared at Vivienne for several seconds before speaking. “How can Valentina get married first?”

Vivienne frowned. “What?”

Chiara ignored her and addressed Giovanni. “You have an older daughter.”

Giovanni froze. Valentina stopped crying. Lorenzo looked surprised.

“Vivienne is older,” Chiara continued. “If anyone should get married first, it should be her.”

The room went still. Vivienne’s heart lurched. She understood where this conversation was headed.

“No…” The word barely left her lips.

Valentina seized the idea. “Yes! Vivienne is older than me.”

Chiara nodded. “It would be strange socially for the younger daughter to marry first.”

Everyone knew Chiara didn’t care about social tradition—this wasn’t about that. It was about protecting her own child and sacrificing someone else’s.

Vivienne looked at her father, waiting, hoping he would say no, defend her, refuse. Giovanni remained silent—shoulders sagged, face exhausted and defeated. The debt, the pressure, the fear had pushed him into a corner.

Slowly he lifted his head and looked at Vivienne. Her stomach dropped.

“Father…” she whispered. Her voice trembled.

Giovanni avoided her eyes and then spoke: “You are getting married in two days.”

Silence. Vivienne felt her world stop.

“Be ready.”

The words hit her like a physical blow. Her breath caught. Her fingers tightened on the staircase railing. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move. The man she had saved in the alley—the man with the scar and the terrifying certainty—was now the reason she was being sold to save a family that had never truly belonged to her.

Valentina let out a small, relieved sound. Chiara’s face softened for the first time all night. Lorenzo looked uncomfortable but didn’t argue. Giovanni kept his eyes on the table, unable to look at the daughter he had just given away.

Vivienne didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She simply turned and walked back upstairs, her steps quiet, her mind hollow. The room below continued to argue, but the sound faded as she climbed.

In her room, she closed the door and leaned against it. The bathroom light reflected softly on the mirror. She stared at her own face—pale, wide-eyed, trembling.

Two days.

She had two days to become someone else’s wife.

Two days to leave the life she had never truly had.

Two days to say goodbye to the mother she had lost, the father who had chosen silence, and the self she had barely managed to keep.

She pressed her hands against her mouth to stop the tears. But deep inside, something colder settled: not panic, not despair, but a quiet, sharp understanding.

This was the price of her family’s mistake.

And she was the one who would pay it.

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