𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐧.
ꙬꙬꙬꙬ
All that Yara Morello was told all her life was that she was the shame of the family. She was a mistake that was never supposed to happen, a disgrace to be shunned and cast...
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Watching Yara's family interact was like witnessing the worst kind of social experiment—a blend of condescension, disdain, and a superficiality so thick I could cut it with a knife. It was downright excruciating.
Her loud-mouthed sister, Allegra, yammered on incessantly, her voice grating on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. I found myself fantasizing about silencing her permanently, my fingers twitching toward the gun holstered at my waist. The image of her finally shutting up, her lips sealed with a bullet, was almost too satisfying. But then I remembered where I was and reined in the urge.
Her mother, Beatrice, was no better. A carbon copy of Allegra, just older and more practiced in the art of pretension. She played the role of the doting mother-in-law with an air of smug superiority that made me want to throw her out of my sight.
It was almost impressive how thoroughly she managed to dismiss Yara, even when she was right in front of her.
And then there was Yara, sitting at that table like a ghost, barely acknowledged, except when one of them felt the need to remind her of her place. The exchanges she had with them were minimal, cold, and clipped. It was obvious she was unwanted, an afterthought in their grandiose plans.
They didn't even bother pretending otherwise, which told me everything I needed to know about the dynamics at play here. Even a blind man could see that Yara was nothing more than a pawn, forced into this arrangement for reasons that had nothing to do with love or family.
I'd left her alone in my house for a week, needing the distance to clear my head and regain control. She was a fucking menace to my sanity, pushing every button I had, driving me to the brink in ways I hadn't expected. I wasn't used to feeling like this—like I was teetering on the edge of something I couldn't quite define. And staying away was the only way I knew to keep myself from doing something I might regret.
Her father had pulled her over to his office, and I knew Federico Morello all too well. The bastard was going to drill her for information about me, no doubt about it. Yara abhorred her father—I could see it in her eyes every time she was forced to interact with him.
She was terrible at hiding her true feelings, and that made it painfully obvious. I knew that look, that simmering resentment barely concealed behind a mask of obedience. I was all too familiar with it because I'd worn it myself once upon a time.
That's why I let her roam freely around my house without any restrictions. It wasn't out of kindness or trust; it was a calculated test. I wanted to see which would win out, her hatred for her father or the fear he instilled in her. Would she betray me to appease him, or would she hold her ground just to spite him?
"I hope my sister isn't causing you too much trouble," Allegra drawled, her voice dripping with feigned concern. She leaned back in her chair, her posture deliberately relaxed as she pushed her tits out. "She's always been a bit... naive. Sheltered, you know? It's unfortunate, really. She was never quite as quick on the uptake as the rest of us."
