Page 10 of All The Pretty Little Lies

"It doesn't matter what you knew or didn't know," he interrupts, turning to face me. The fading sunlight casts half his face in shadow, making him look more menacing than ever. "You're about to become a Petrov. Do you understand what that means? The responsibilities that come with it?"

I nod mutely, my throat constricting around words I dare not speak.

"You are expected to be a lady, Vesper. To carry yourself with grace and dignity at all times. To be a good wife to Dmitri." He pauses, his eyes narrowing. "And most importantly, to be loyal to your new family. The Petrovs will not tolerate any hint of divided loyalties."

The mention of Dmitri and my impending marriage sends a wave of nausea through me. I can feel the bile rising in my throat, bitter and acrid. The thought of being bound to a man I barely know, of leaving behind everything and everyone I love, makes my stomach churn violently.

I clench my fists at my sides, digging my nails into my palms until I feel the sharp sting of pain. It grounds me, helps me maintain my composure even as my insides rebel against the future that's been mapped out for me.

"I understand, Father," I manage to say, my voice steadier than I feel. "I won't disappoint you again."

My father's lips curl into a cold smile, one that doesn't reach his eyes. "Oh, my dear Vesper," he says, his voice dripping with a mixture of condescension and finality, "you won't have the opportunity to disappoint me again."

A chill runs down my spine as he continues, each word falling like a hammer blow. "I've spoken with your headmaster. He assures me that despite missing the last four days of classes,you will graduate. Your academic record is impressive enough to warrant this special consideration."

The room seems to tilt on its axis as the implications of his words sink in. The antique globe on his desk, becomes the focal point of my blurring vision.

"I...I don't understand," I stammer, my usual composure deserting me. "What about my final exams? My graduation ceremony?"

Father waves his hand dismissively, the light catching on his heavy gold signet ring. "Inconsequential details, my dear. Your true education begins now."

He moves to the liquor cabinet, a beautiful Art Deco piece that has stood in this study for generations. The crystal decanter clinks against a tumbler as he pours himself a measure of amber liquid. The scent of aged scotch fills the air, mingling with the lingering aroma of leather and cigar smoke.

"You won't be returning to school," he states, taking a sip of his drink. "The next five days will be spent preparing for your wedding. Your mother has already begun making arrangements. Dress fittings, etiquette refreshers, briefings on the Petrov family history, and business interests. Every minute will be utilized to ensure you are the perfect bride for Dmitri."

The weight of his words press down on me, making it difficult to breathe. The ornate wallpaper, with its intricate patterns of golden leaves and crimson flowers, seems to close in around me. I feel trapped, like a butterfly pinned to a board, my wings uselessly fluttering against the inevitable.

"But Father," I begin, my voice barely above a whisper, "I had plans. There were people I wanted to say goodbye to, things I wanted to do before..."

"Before what, Vesper?" he interrupts, his voice sharp. "Before you fulfilled your duty to this family? Before you took your rightful place in securing our future?"

He sets down his glass with a decisive thud and turns to face me fully. "You've been indulged for far too long," he continues, his tone brooking no argument. "It's time for you to embrace your responsibilities. The Petrovs are expecting a refined, educated young woman who understands her place in this world. Not a spoiled little bitch who cares more about friends and walking across the stage for a piece of paper that means nothing in the end.”

My father's words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. I stand there, frozen, as the full weight of my situation crashes down upon me. The ornate grandfather clock in the corner ticks away the seconds, each one feeling like a nail in the coffin of my former life.

"You may go," my father says dismissively, turning back to the window. "Your mother will brief you on tomorrow's schedule."

I nod mutely, unable to form words, and turn to leave. As I reach for the doorknob, my father's voice stops me once more.

"And Vesper," he says, his tone cold and final, "do not disappoint me again."

I step out into the hallway, closing the door behind me with trembling hands. The long corridor stretches before me, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps as I make my way back to my room. Family portraits line the walls, generations of Rossis staring down at me with eyes that seem to judge and condemn.

As I enter my bedroom, I'm struck by how foreign it suddenly feels. The pastel walls, the delicate white furniture, the bookshelf filled with my favorite novels – it all seems like it belongs to someone else now. A girl who had dreams.

I sink onto my bed, my fingers clutching at the silk comforter. The room spins around me, and I struggle to catch my breath. How did everything change so quickly? Now I'm a bride-to-be, my future mapped out in precise detail by parents who see meas nothing more than a pawn in their grand game of power and influence.

As I sit on my bed, surrounded by the remnants of my former life, Oscar's offer echoes in my mind. The memory of his earnest face, his whispered promise of help, now feels like a lifeline I foolishly let slip through my fingers. If only I had been braver, less hesitant to accept the risks that came with his offer.

But it’s too late now. There’s no escaping this hell.

VESPER

I stormout onto the balcony, the sting of my father’s declaration still prickling against me. The declaration that ripped what little freedom I had left away from me because of my brother’s fight. My brother is hurt, and God knows where my father chose to dump him to lick his wounds. My brother's absence gnaws at me, a constant ache in my chest. Where is he? Is he safe? The uncertainty is almost worse than knowing he was in danger. Almost. My father won’t kill Luca, but he would certainly use this to teach him a hard lesson unless something were to happen to the marriage alliance as the result of hisactions. I can’t be positive about what will come of my brother if this union fails.

“Luca, if you’re out there, I hope you’re safe,” I whisper into the breeze. “I hope my sacrifice keeps you safe.”

A flicker of movement in the garden below catches my eye, pulling me from my brooding thoughts. I lean forward, my keen gaze scanning the shadowy landscape. There – a figure moves between the carefully pruned topiaries, pausing beneath my balcony. I recognize the hulking form at once: Oscar.

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