Chapter 22
Lester growled. His boot hit my ribs–controlled. Professional. Not personal. This wasn’t rage. It was demonstration.
The second hit cracked against my cheekbone. Hard enough to make my ears ring. My nose bled. Not broken, though. They were careful.
I bit down on the gag until I tasted copper.
Then she walked in.
Elizabeth.
Wearing one of my dresses. My custom red silk design–the one I had tailored for the Milan gala. I knew the seam near her hip was uneven. I remembered every stitch. But she wore a cheap kind
She looked down at me like I was a bug she scraped off her heel.
“Oh look,” she cooed, circling me slowly. “The runaway maid. Back on her knees, where she belongs.”
She twirled, letting the fabric float.
“You know, this dress fits me better than it ever fit you. Probably because I don’t lie about who I
am.”
She leaned close, voice dripping poison.
“But you… you were always just a servant playing heiress. And now, we get to peel off the costume and see what’s underneath.”
I looked her dead in the eye.
And in my silence, in the blood running down my chin, in the defiant burn behind promised her: If I walked out of this tunnel alive, she wouldn’t.
my stare–l
I stopped counting the hours after the lights went out the second time. In this place, time rots. Pain becomes a second skin. Hunger feels like betrayal. My mouth was too dry to scream anymore, even if I wanted to–which I didn’t. Screaming was for prey. And I wasn’t prey.
Lester dragged a folding chair in front of me, flipped it around, and straddled it like some cheap therapist on TV. The screen in his hand glowed.
He clicked it on.
First image: Angelo. Hooked to machines. Chest barely rising. Tubes in his mouth. Nurses in the background murmuring in Italian.
Second image: my funeral–or the lie of one. My body was a closed casket. Crimson veils. Wailing mourners paid to sob on cue. Enemies in black pretending to pay respects while licking their teeth like hyenas. I watched myself be buried while zip–tied to a bloodstained pipe.
Last video: the ambush.
Lucien’s car. Flames. Gunfire. Screams. The moment he was hit, I knew. His body crumpled- spine twisted. He dropped face–first onto wet pavement like someone yanked his soul out mid–breath. My guards, gunned down one by one like glass chess pieces. And me… dragged into
Happy Diverse My Husbandi
1/3 79.0%
5:24 am
blackness like a lamb already bled.
Lester turned to me, that grin too wide for his damn face.
“You chose your father over your son,” he hissed, tossing the phone at my feet. “You could’ve helped us rise. But no, Rosinni blood meant more. That title, that little glass castle of yours, you really thought it was worth leaving your own behind?”
I let the silence hang, heavy and mean. Then I lifted my head slowly, blood crusting my temple, and looked him dead in the eye.
“Just like your father,” I whispered through cracked lips, “you’re a coward. All roar and no fangs. If you’d had half the strength I bled for, you wouldn’t need a gang of traitors to prop you up like some puppet prince.”
The slap came fast.
Elizabeth.
She stormed from the side like she’d been waiting for her cue. Her palm cracked across my cheek, reopened the cut on my lip.
“You filthy maid,” she snarled. “You don’t talk to us like that. You’re dirt under our boots. Remember who dressed you. Who gave you a name worth remembering.”
Before I could recover, Loisa came next, fingers sharp as claws, dragging down my hair, yanking my head back.
“You’ll speak when spoken to, Mother,” she spat in Serbian. “And when you do, you’ll beg. Otherwise, we’ll mail your tongue to your grandchildren.”
They beat me. Cold. Rhythmic. Not rage–ritual. Lester recorded it, camera steady in his hands.
‘The twins are gonna love this,” he muttered, zooming in on the blood running down my face, my mouth forced open by the gag again. “Family video night, huh? Little bedtime horror story starring their lying grandma.”
let it happen. Not because I was broken–but because I was waiting.
Because months ago, I embedded a micro–blade in the sole of my heel. Titanium, curved, less than three inches. I trained to keep it there without a limp. Every step I’d taken since Milan burned, but I never complained.
Pain was always part of the plan.
Two nights later–or maybe three–they left.
Edmund. Elizabeth. Lester. Loisa.
Gone.
A skeleton crew of guards remained. Some barely sober. One chewing sunflower seeds like we were on a farm.
It was time.
I twisted my foot until I could feel the pressure snap. The blade popped free with a soft click. I rolled my ankle, caught the grip, and started sawing at the ties around my wrist, every tug biting into torn flesh.
When it finally snapped, I didn’t wait.
5:24 am DD Il lunged.
The first guard had his back turried. I slit his throat clean, caught the fall of his body so it didn’t slam. His gun, small caliber, tucked into the back of his jeans. The second one heard the gurgle —but not fast enough. I buried the blade in his temple, kicked his knee out so he crumbled sideways. Blood soaked my hands.
I didn’t flinch.
I took his weapon. Full mag. No safety on. The tunnels were endless. Stale air and rats and old rusted signage. But I moved like I belonged there.
Then I found the room.
Bodies.
Some in chairs. Some on hooks. Some so decayed their skin peeled from the bone. Alll starved. Executed. Forgotten. Enemies of Edmund. Rivals. Traitors. Innocents caught in the crossfire.
I almost puked. But I didn’t have the luxury.
I found a burner phone in the pocket of a half–dead man. His eyes fluttered when I reached in. He grabbed my wrist.
“Kill me… or save me.” That’s all he said.
I sent the ping.
Matteo. Enzo. My backup crew. The last loyal blood I had. Coordinates. One word: “Risen.”
Then I staggered through the last hallway. My legs felt carved from fire. My lungs wheezed. I saw light–natural light.
A collapsed shaft. Moonlight spilling through like holy water. Rain pouring in thick silver ribbons.
I crawled. Hands raw. Blood trailing behind me like a red tail. I collapsed in the puddle.
Face up.
Mouth open.
And I laughed. Because even half–dead, I had won the first move.
Now I just had to survive the night.
