C77 Before It's Too Late

Annabelle sat stiffly in the back seat of the car.

Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest as if holding herself together.

The pain in her heart felt too heavy to bear, a weight pressing down so hard she could barely breathe. Her gaze was fixed out the window, but she didn’t really see the darkened streets or the glowing city lights streaming past. The only thing swirling in her mind was his voice, those words he had spoken so recklessly.

I love you, Mia Bella.

The phrase echoed in her ears.

It was louder with each repetition, and with it came a surge of emotions she couldn’t untangle.

Confusion.

Anger.

Bitterness.

Grief.

Her chest tightened painfully.

“How could he be so cruel?”

She thought back to the moment.

She couldn’t forget the way his dark, smouldering eyes had pinned her in place as he said it.

And yet, there had been no sincerity in those eyes, no truth behind his words.

Annabelle bit the inside of her cheek, hard enough to taste blood.

What made it worse was that she didn’t even know the exact reason why she was so heavy-hearted.

Was it because of his declaration?

Or because, deep down, she knew he didn’t mean it?

He already had her body.

He had taken it.

Claimed it.

And even declared her as his whether she liked it or not.

She had even willingly fallen into his arms, swept away by the force of his touch.

So why would he lie to her like that?

Her hands curled into fists on her lap as despair welled up inside her.

All her life, no one had ever said those words to her before.

Not her mother, who was supposed to love her unconditionally.

And certainly not her father, who had left without a backward glance.

Maybe he had whispered those words to her once when she was a child.

But if he had, Annabelle couldn’t remember.

And yet, even though she had long since given up on fairytales and knights in shining armour, a small part of her had still dreamed of one day hearing those words spoken with genuine love and warmth.

But instead, life had given her a tarnished man with a blackened heart.

Someone who seemed determined to ruin even the tiniest flicker of hope she dared to hold onto.

Dante tried to talk to her again as the car sped through the quiet streets, his deep voice filling the charged silence.

“Annabelle,” he said softly, almost like a plea.

She didn’t look at him, didn’t acknowledge him.

Her gaze remained locked on the passing scenery, her jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

When he tried again, she turned her body further away, the cold shoulder she offered as unyielding as her silence.

Finally, after a long moment, he gave up, letting her stew in her warring thoughts.

The ride felt endless.

Yet all too soon, they arrived back at his estate.

Annabelle’s heart twisted as the imposing gates swung open, revealing the sprawling mansion that had become her cage.

The knowledge that she was living under his roof made bitterness rise in her throat.

The undeniable fact that she was eating his food, and wearing the clothes he had selected for her was like acid in her veins.

She got out of the car without waiting for Dante, ignoring the way his men glanced at her and their blank expressions.

Her fists were clenched as she turned to him, her voice cutting through the cool night air like a blade.

“When are we going to Stoneraine?”

His dark eyes bore into hers, but for once, she didn’t flinch.

She expected him to give her the same tired excuse about waiting until she was ready.

She supposed he would try and stall her once again.

But instead, his reply surprised her.

“As soon as you’re ready,” he said evenly, his voice devoid of any usual teasing or dominance.

Annabelle didn’t let herself dwell on his tone or the flicker of something in his eyes.

“I’ll be ready tomorrow,” she snapped, her words sharp and final. “And you’d better fulfil your promise this time. If you don’t, I’ll crawl all the way to Stoneraine if I have to.”

She didn’t wait for his response.

She turned on her heel and strode towards the house, her head held high even as her chest ached with every step.

She felt his gaze on her back, heavy and unrelenting,

But she refused to look back.

As she entered the house, Angelo’s curious gaze met hers.

His brow arched as if to question her, but she brushed past him without a word.

She climbed the stairs to her room as quickly as her shaky legs would carry her, her breath coming faster with each step.

By the time she reached the sanctuary of her room, she was trembling.

She slammed the door shut behind her, the sound echoing in the quiet.

Her purse slipped from her shoulder, and in a burst of frustration, she flung it across the room, watching it crash against the far wall.

Then, with her back against the door, she slid down to the floor while her body quivered uncontrollably.

The tears came then, hot and unchecked, trailing down her cheeks as she hugged her knees to her chest.

“I need to leave,” she thought desperately, her mind racing. “I need to get out of here before it’s too late.”

She had realised something tonight.

Something that terrified her more than anything else.

Dante might never hurt her physically.

But he had the power to break her in ways she might never recover from.

His words.

His touch.

His very presence could shatter the fragile walls she had built around her heart.

Her head told her to run, to put as much distance between them as she could.

But her heart…

Her heart ached.

And as the tears flowed, the ache only deepened.

A sharp, unrelenting pain that refused to let her go.