His Brother's Bride

The next day, after burying my grandmother, I dragged my exhausted body back to Dante’s mansion. The moment I put the key in the lock, I heard laughter from inside.

I pushed the door open. Three people were in the living room: Dante, Marco, and Isabella.

Their laughter died the moment they saw me. The air, thick with the smell of champagne and expensive perfume, made me sick to my stomach.

"Rose, you're back." Dante stood up, that gentle smile I once loved plastered on his face. "Come, let me introduce you."

I stood frozen at the door.

"This is my twin brother, Marco."

My eyes shifted to the man I knew. The wild grin from the club was gone, replaced by a mask of polite friendliness.

"Hello, my dear... sister-in-law." He held out his hand, looking perfectly welcoming.

The thought of the things I'd done with him made my stomach clench. I fought back the nausea and gave a stiff nod.

"And this is my... friend, Isabella." The pause Dante took made the word "friend" sound like a joke. "Isabella, this is Rose."

Isabella stood up gracefully, a vision in a custom white suit. She walked toward me with a perfect smile. "Rose! It's been so long!" She opened her arms as if to give me a warm hug.

I instinctively wanted to step back, but she was already on me. To anyone else, it looked like a friendly embrace. But as her lips brushed my ear, her voice turned venomous.

"You look well. I trust you've missed our... friendship." Her voice was a whisper, but it landed like a ton of bricks.

I felt dizzy, the memories of her cutting me with a penknife, of her holding my head in a toilet bowl, flooding back…

"Shut up!" I shoved her away with all my strength.

Isabella stumbled back, "accidentally" hitting the corner of the coffee table. A red mark immediately appeared on her arm. She cried out, tears instantly welling in her eyes.

"Rose!" Both Dante and Marco rushed to her side, their eyes shooting daggers at me. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"I... she..." I tried to tell them who Isabella really was. But Marco cut me off, his fake smile gone, replaced by cold hostility. "Dante, it seems your fiancée doesn't understand Blackwood etiquette."

Dante gently examined the mark on Isabella’s arm, then his gaze, cold as ice, fell on me. "Marco's right, Rose. You need to be taught a lesson."

He grabbed my arm. I tried to pull away, but he was too strong. "What are you doing? Let go of me!"

"Go to the basement and cool off," he said, dragging me toward the stairs. "You can come out when you've learned how to apologize."

"No! Dante, don't!" I struggled. Panic clawed at me. I was claustrophobic—severely. And he knew it. Better than anyone.

But he ignored me, dragging me to the basement door. It was a windowless storage room with only a tiny air vent. The thought of being locked in that small, dark space made it hard to breathe.

"Please, Dante, don't do this..." I begged, my vision blurred with tears. "You know I'm afraid of the dark, you know..."

He hesitated for a second. I thought he might soften. But then he shoved the door open with even more force.

"This is what happens when you don't listen," he said, his voice like ice. "Think about what you did."

BANG.

The door slammed shut. The sound of the key turning in the lock was like a death sentence.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

I pounded on the door. "Let me out! Please! Dante!"

The only answer was the sound of their laughter upstairs as they continued their party, as if nothing had happened.

I curled into a ball in the corner, hugging my knees, trying to control my shaking.

This basement... I remember Dante saying he'd had it renovated after buying the house. I'd wondered why he'd installed such a heavy door and a complex lock on a storage room.

Now I knew.

This basement had been built for me from the very beginning.

In the endless dark, I could hear the sound of my own heart breaking.