Page 98 of Brutal Crown

“It was amazing. I really loved it.”

But it doesn’t completely fade away. The tension. The suspicion creeping back into his smile. The darkness making its way into his eyes.

I walk away without turning back, almost sprinting to my room as I enter the house.

Upstairs, I close my bedroom door behind me and exhale hard. My legs are shaking.

I lock the door and walk over to my dresser. I pull the pendant from around my neck—the one Marco gave me the night of the engagement—and set it down.

Then I reach under the neckline of my dress and touch the rosary.

It feels cool. Heavy. Real.

I clutch it tight, my heart beating rapidly in my chest.

I know Marco genuinely loves me, but he doesn’t love me enough to grant me what I want.

Freedom.

He will never let me go, and he might lock me up if he has to.

The map in my head is not nearly finished, but it’s enough to at least get me out of the estate gates.

All I need is the right night when a guard might be sleeping or late for duty. Just one slip-up, one chance.

And when it comes, I’ll run. I’ll take the life my father died building, the one Francesco protected in silence, the one growing inside me.

I’ll run, and I won’t look back.

26

FRANCESCO

The bedroom door creaks as I push it open. I don’t know what I’m expecting walking in, but it’s definitely not the sight of the person in my room.

Silvia is standing by the window, her pale skin bathed in moonlight. As usual, she looks like royalty. Untouchable. Icy. Perfect. She’s wearing a white lace gown, her hair is held up with pins, with some ringlets coming down to curl at her nape and the sides of her face. She looks so soft and delicate, like something out of a dream I never asked to have.

Her back is to me, but she speaks without turning.

“I figured you’d come eventually.”

I step inside and close the door behind me.

Finally, she turns. We stare at each other silently for a while. My thoughts rush in, lapping over themselves like waves in a storm. I can see it in her eyes too, the torment she keeps so well hidden. She’s always been a master of masks, and the dinner we had some weeks ago was the first time I saw hers slip.

“I thought you’d be asleep since you had such a long day,” I murmur. “You didn’t have to come help with the arrangements.”

She lets out a faint laugh. “I’m your wife-to-be, Francesco. I may not live here yet, but someday I’m expected to. I’m supposed to be part of every function, every appearance, every goddamn performance this house demands.”

I nod slowly, staring down.

“Yes, I know what you’re expected to be. To do. Since we were five, they’ve told us what we are. How to act. Who to love. Who we are meant to bind ourselves to for life. I’ve followed it all… until now. But tonight, I’m going to ask you something I’ve never had the courage to ask before.”

She looks a bit unsure as I slowly cross the room, my footsteps barely making a sound against the marble floor.

When I reach her, I take her hand. Her fingers are cold against mine. I squeeze gently, grounding us both.

“Is this what you truly want, Silvia?” My voice is quiet but steady. “To spend the rest of your life with me? To wake up every day beside someone you don’t love? To raise children together in a house filled with silence and duty and nothing else? Is that what you really want?”