Page 3 of Veiled Vows

"Yes, Mother," I reply. "I'll make sure to address everything."

"See that you do," she says with a smile. "You have to be perfect. Your appearance reflects on all of us. And remember, this is for your own good. Men like Salvatore need constant reminders of why they chose you. You don't want him to stray, do you?"

The idea that my worth is tied to my looks, that I must constantly prove myself to keep him from straying, feels like a nightmare. Will I ever be good enough?

I’m going to get to the bottom of this. It makes sense now why Salvatore never lets me into his home office; he apparently hassome things to hide. I am going to find out if this is all in my head, or if my whole life is truly a lie.

Chapter 2

Serena

We return from the party, and I slip away quietly, heading to Salvatore's office, a place I've never dared to enter before. He didn't even bother locking his office door, so certain of my obedience that he didn't feel the need to. I clench my teeth, pushing the thought away.

I search through the drawers, feeling anxious and unsteady, sifting through piles of contracts and business agreements. Papers rustle and files move around until my fingers finally touch what they're searching for.I pull it out, my breath hitching as I read the words confirming what I dreaded: our marriage is arranged.

The same hands that once cradled me in “love”—are the same hands that signed this contract. I trace the lines of ink with trembling fingers, each word unraveling my perfect life. I can’t breathe. It feels like I’m dying.

I hurl the contract onto the desk. It lands with a dull thud. I stumble back, away from the papers like they are on fire, and catch my reflection in the mirror.

I stare at the woman staring back at me—dyed blond locks that shimmered like gold but now felt like chains, a nose sculpted under the surgeon's knife to fit my parents' vision of perfection, lips plumped with filler to create an everlasting sexy pout.

Salvatore Agosti’s little doll, manipulated into existence for a business transaction. I am sculpted to be this man’s fantasy. I am not me. I am a creation, an illusion crafted to satisfy their desires, their greed.

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the dryness of every strand, all as a result of frying my natural curls away. For fuck’s sake, almost every piece of clothing in my closet has been chosen for me by my mother. It’s like I am a puppet on a string, being controlled to play the part of Mr. Agosti’s perfect wife.

I collapse to the ground, mascara-coated tears streaking down my cheeks. I thought what we had was real. But it was all lies. All lies. How could I have been so fucking blind? I gave everything—my heart, my soul—believing in a love that never existed.

I bury my face in my hands, the truth overwhelming me. I was never his equal, never his partner. I was a trophy, eye candy on his arm.

My mind races, replaying the contents of the contract over and over. The cold legality of it all sears through my heart—my father's signature alongside Salvatore’s, discussing all the benefits that come with this sick deal of theirs. I would have expected this from my father, but from Salvatore? Never.

Bitterness gnaws at my insides. All the times he slept with me, they were never about passion or love. It’s like I am a fancy prostitute. Everything he ever did was to keep me blind and compliant. I would have never agreed to this if I knew the truth. How could I have been so naive, so easily manipulated intoplaying this role? Two years. Two years of him pretending like what I thought we had was real.

The door creaks open behind me, his heavy presence filling the room. I turn to look at him. His frame fills the doorway, his bulk and height casting a shadow over me. He steps forward, his expression unreadable.

"Serena," he says, his voice low and controlled. "What are you doing here? You know my office is off-limits."

I meet his gaze defiantly, my lips twisted in an ugly scowl. "I found your precious contract," I spit out, not feeling apologetic for snooping. "The one that binds us together like some business transaction."

Salvatore's jaw tightens, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "You weren't supposed to see that," he replies icily.

"Supposed to see what?" I retort. "That I've been living a lie? That I am nothing to you?"

He takes another step closer, his gaze piercing mine. "It was necessary. It protects what matters," he says, like this is all just a major inconvenience to him, and not my life falling apart.

"What matters?" I scoff, incredulous. "Your empire? Your business deals?"

Salvatore’s huge fists clench and unclench at his sides. "Yes," he admits, his voice gravelly. "But also you, Serena."

I laugh bitterly, tears stinging my eyes. "Don't," I choke out, so close to breaking completely. "Don't pretend like this was ever about me."

I grab the crumpled contract from the desk and throw it in his face. "Are you happy with your masterpiece?" I growl through gritted teeth.

His gaze hardens, throwing the contract back on the desk. "It's our reality, Serena," he says.

"And what about me, Salvatore?" I challenge. "Have you ever thought about me in all of this?"

He hesitates, his mask slipping for just a moment. "I never meant to hurt you," he admits.

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