Chapter 5

Aria’s POV

Medications.

Even if it seems I may not need them.

Clothes… was there any use?

I sighed, staring at the small duffel bag on the bed. My hands hovered over it, hesitating. Everything felt surreal, like I was standing outside my own body, watching someone else prepare for a life I never wanted.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. My mother’s muffled sobs carried from the living room, each sound slicing into me like a knife. I tightened my grip on the bag, my chest constricting as I tried to block it out.

A knock at the door broke through my thoughts.

“Come in,” I said quietly, my voice barely audible.

The door creaked open, and Lila stepped inside. Her wide, concerned eyes scanned the room before landing on me.

“I heard,” she said softly, closing the door behind her.

I forced a smile, though it felt hollow. “Of course you did. Nothing stays quiet for long around here.”

Lila crossed the room quickly, pulling me into a tight hug. Her arms were warm and steady, a brief anchor in the chaos swirling around me.

“Aria, you don’t have to do this,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “We’ll figure something out. There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t,” I said, pulling back to meet her gaze. “I’ve gone through every option, Lila. This is the only way to keep them alive.”

Tears glistened in her eyes as she shook her head. “But at what cost? You’re—”

“I’ll be fine,” I interrupted, my voice firm despite the crack forming in it. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded reluctantly.

I walked to the nightstand and picked up a small notebook, pressing it into her hands. “These are the instructions for my mom’s medications and appointments. I’ve already called the pharmacy to set up refills, and there’s a list of numbers in case of emergencies.”

Lila stared at the notebook, her lips trembling. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“I have to,” I said, my voice softening. “If I don’t… no one else will.”

A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the distant sound of my mother’s cries.

“I don’t want to leave her like this,” I whispered, my throat tightening. “But I don’t have a choice.”

“She knows,” Lila said, her voice gentle. “She knows you’re doing this for her. For all of them.”

I nodded, though the weight of guilt remained firmly in place.

Lila stepped back, tucking the notebook under her arm. “I’ll take care of her,” she promised. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice barely audible.

My gaze shifted to the living room, where my mother sat curled on the couch, her frail body shaking with sobs. I took a step toward her, then stopped, unsure if I could bear to see her like that.

My father was sprawled on the floor nearby, an empty bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand. His face was slack, his body limp, his snores filling the silence between my mother’s cries.

Shame coursed through me as I stared at him. He was supposed to be the strong one, the protector. But now, he was just a shell, drowning in guilt and alcohol.

I turned away, swallowing the lump in my throat as I zipped the duffel bag closed.

“Aria…” Lila began, her voice hesitant.

“It’s fine,” I said quickly, cutting her off. “I’m fine.”

I wasn’t. But that didn’t matter anymore.

Bag in hand, I walked to the front door, my footsteps heavy and deliberate. Lila followed close behind, her presence steady but silent.

The night air hit me like a wave as I stepped outside, the cool breeze stinging my skin. I adjusted the strap of the bag on my shoulder, taking a deep breath to steady myself.

Behind me, Lila lingered in the doorway, her expression unreadable.

“I’ll call,” I said, though we both knew I wouldn’t.

She nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Be careful, Aria.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I turned and started walking, the sound of my boots echoing softly on the pavement. The street was quiet, the world around me eerily still.

But as I neared the corner, a faint sound caught my attention.

Heaving.

I froze, my pulse quickening as the noise grew louder, more distinct.

My grip on the bag tightened, my eyes scanning the shadows ahead.

Someone was there.

Perkins.

He stumbled out of the shadows, his hair disheveled and his expression wild. For a moment, I thought he might be drunk, but as he drew closer, the gleam in his eyes was as sharp and calculating.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped, my voice trembling.

Seeing him brought out the root of my anger.

Of my pain.

“Aria,” he said, raising his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “Just hear me out.”

“Leave,” Lila said, stepping in front of me protectively. Her voice was sharp, her posture tense. “You’ve done enough.”

Perkins ignored her, his gaze fixed on me. “I heard,” he said, his tone light, almost casual. “About what’s happening with your family. Tough break.”

I stiffened, my grip on the duffel bag tightening.

Lila didn’t miss a beat. “What the hell do you care?” she spat. “You don’t give a damn about her or her family. Just crawl back to whatever hole you came out of or better still the so called pussy that you can’t seem to get yiur dick out from.”

Perkins scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Look, I came to apologize.”

“Apologize?” I repeated, my voice dripping with disbelief.

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug, his tone completely devoid of sincerity. “I mean, not for the cheating thing. That’s in the past, right? But for… you know, being a little cold earlier.”

Lila’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious right now?” she hissed.

Perkins ignored her again, stepping closer to me. “Aria, you’ve got connections now, don’t you?” he said, his voice lowering as if we were sharing some kind of secret. “I mean, the guy you’re going to… he’s got power, right? Maybe you could… I don’t know, put in a good word for me. Get me some work or something.”

I blinked, my mind struggling to process the audacity of his words. “You want me to… help you?”

“Yeah,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk. “I mean, we had something, didn’t we? You owe me that much. I mean I had to deal with your mess.”

I scoffed, “My…mess?”

“I didn’t mean it like that Aria…but you know.”

I chuckled, “Okay…I will give you help.”

One that’s long been over due.

I swung the duffel bag before I could think, the heavy weight of it connecting with his smug face with a satisfying thud.

“You arrogant piece of shit!” I shouted, my voice shaking with fury.

He stumbled back, clutching his face. “What the hell, Aria?”

Before he could recover, Lila was on him, shoving him hard toward the curb. “Get out of here!” she screamed, her voice ringing through the quiet street. “You’re pathetic, Perkins! Pathetic!”

He tripped over the curb, landing in an undignified heap on the sidewalk.

“You’re crazy!” he shouted, glaring up at us as he scrambled to his feet.

“Leave!” I screamed, the sound raw and furious, echoing in the still night. “Before I burst your balls with my heels.”

Perkins hesitated for a moment, his face twisting with anger, but he must have realized he wasn’t going to win this. With a muttered curse, he turned and stumbled away, disappearing into the shadows.

I stood there, my chest heaving, the duffel bag still clenched tightly in my hand.

“Are you okay?” Lila asked, her voice softening as she placed a hand on my shoulder.

Before I could answer, a low, smooth voice cut through the night.

“Are you Aria Montel?”

I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat.

An expensive car I hadn’t noticed before was parked at the curb, its dark, sleek frame gleaming under the streetlights. A man in a perfectly tailored suit stood beside it, his posture rigid, his face unreadable.

“I… I am,” I said hesitantly, my voice barely above a whisper.

The man nodded once, stepping forward to open the back door of the car. “The Don awaits you.”

I froze, my feet rooted to the ground as I gulped.

The Don.

Dominic De Luca.

Lila’s grip tightened on my arm, her silent presence grounding me. But even her strength couldn’t stop the cold fear that crawled up my spine.

The goosebumps that filled my skin.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward.

Chapter 6

To be owned by a man.

The thought haunted me as the sleek black car glided through the city, its interior silent except for the faint hum of the engine. The leather seat beneath me was cold, stiff, reminding me with every second that I was heading toward a life I didn’t want.

The driver hadn’t said a word, his stoic face illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard.

I kept my eyes on the window, watching as the familiar streets gave way to an unfamiliar path.

The neighborhoods grew quieter, the buildings larger, grander, until we turned into a long, winding driveway lined with towering trees.

When the mansion came into view, my breath caught.

It wasn’t just a house, it was a fortress. The sprawling structure loomed against the evening sky, its dark brick exterior lit by the soft glow of ornate lanterns that lined the driveway. Ivy climbed the walls, adding an air of timelessness to the dark tall building.

The windows were massive, glowing faintly with golden light, hinting at the luxury within.

The car came to a stop in front of the double doors, massive and arched, made of dark wood and flanked by stone columns.

I swallowed hard, my palms damp as the driver stepped out and opened my door.

“Miss Montel,” he said, his voice low, clipped.

I hesitated, my legs refusing to move.

“Miss Montel,” he repeated, a little firmer this time.

Taking a shaky breath, I stepped out, my boots clicking against the stone driveway. The doors opened before I could reach them, and two men in suits stepped aside to let me in.

The inside was as breathtaking as the outside.

The foyer was massive, its marble floors gleaming under the glow of a crystal chandelier that hung like a crown above us. A staircase spiraled upward, its railing ornate, gold-tipped. Every detail screamed wealth—no, power.

“Right this way,” one of the men said, his tone curt as he gestured toward a hall to the left.

I followed, my heart pounding as we moved through the space. The walls were lined with dark wood paneling, the air filled with the faint scent of leather and whiskey. We stopped in front of another set of double doors. One of the men knocked twice before pushing them open.

The room was warm and dimly lit, the fire crackling in a stone hearth on one side. The air was thick with smoke, not unpleasant, but heavy.

Dominic De Luca sat at the far end of the room, his legs stretched out casually as he leaned back in a high-backed leather chair. He wore a dark, unbuttoned shirt that clung to his chest, revealing the hint of tattoos curling up his collarbone. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing thick, muscled forearms.

When he saw me, a slow smirk curved his lips.

“Aria Montel,” he drawled, his voice smooth and deep, the kind that seemed to crawl under your skin and stay there.

My legs felt like lead as I stepped inside, the weight of his gaze pinning me in place. He looked at me like he owned the room—like he owned everything in it, including me.

“Welcome,” he said, gesturing toward the chair across from him.

I hesitated.

“Sit,” he added, his tone firmer this time.

I sank into the chair, my hands clutching the strap of my bag as I tried to steady my breathing.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. The firelight danced across his sharp features, the shadows accentuating the hard line of his jaw, the curve of his smirk.

“You’re nervous,” he observed, his eyes scanning my face.

“No,” I said quickly, my voice betraying me with a slight quiver.

His smirk widened. “Lying doesn’t suit you, Aria.”

I clenched my jaw, willing myself to hold his gaze.

“And what do you know about me?” I asked, my voice firmer this time.

“Absolutely nothing…if I want you to believe that.”

I frowned. “State what you want, sir.”

Dominic tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Straight to the point. I like that.” He leaned back, his arm draping over the side of the chair as he studied me. “You know why you’re here and please don’t call me sir.”

“Okay,” I said, my throat tight.

“I was thinking you would run away,,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “you came anyway.”

I didn’t respond.

He chuckled, low and rich. “You’re interesting, Aria. You know the stakes. Even if you did. I would find you. I will catch you. And I will deal with you..”

I bristled at the condescension in his tone but bit my tongue.

Dominic’s gaze flicked to the bag in my lap. “Planning on running away now?”

“No,” I snapped, heat rising to my cheeks. “I thought I’d be staying here.”

His grin deepened. “Oh, you will.”

The door behind me opened, and a man stepped inside, carrying a thick envelope in his hand. He placed it on the table between us before stepping back and disappearing as quickly as he’d come.

Dominic’s gaze never left mine as he gestured toward the envelope.

“Read it,” he said simply.

I hesitated, my fingers trembling as I reached for the envelope. The paper felt heavy in my hands, its weight a tangible reminder of the decision I was about to make. I opened it slowly, pulling out the crisp document inside.

The words blurred at first, the weight of the situation pressing on me so hard I could barely breathe.

“Go on,” Dominic said, his tone calm, almost amused.

I forced myself to focus, scanning the text. It was a contract, detailed and precise. My stomach churned as I read the terms:

Five months of complete sexual availability.

Accompanying Dominic to events, dinners, and meetings.

Performing private dances for him and, occasionally, his most trusted men.

Absolute obedience.

The phrasing was clinical, cold. But the meaning behind the words was clear: I was to become his possession, his plaything, his whore.

In exchange, the debt would be erased.

“Five months,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

“That’s right,” Dominic said, leaning back in his chair. “Five months of your life, and your family walks away free and clear. No debts, no danger.”

I glanced up at him, my chest tightening with anger and despair.

He was watching me intently, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He knew he had me cornered.

“And if I say no?” I asked, though the words felt hollow.

Dominic’s smirk widened. “Then you already know the answer to that. Your father’s debt doesn’t just disappear, Aria. Someone will pay it—one way or another. And it’s gonna be bad. I am being nice by actually giving you a contract and a lee way out.”

My hands gripped the contract tightly, my knuckles white.

“You’re asking me to give up everything,” I said, my voice breaking.

“I’m offering you a way out,” Dominic corrected, his tone firm. “Five months, Aria. That’s all I’m asking. After that, you’re free to go.”

Free to go.

The words felt like a cruel joke.

I looked back at the contract, my heart sinking deeper with every word I read. This was my life now, a life I hadn’t chosen, a life I couldn’t escape.

I thought of my mother, frail and crying on the couch. Of my father, passed out in a drunken stupor, too ashamed to face what he’d done. They needed me.

But I couldn’t ignore the other truth, the one that loomed over me like a dark shadow.

Five months.

I had six months to live.

Before that time would be up, I might already be dead.

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