Page 9 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

On the drive home, the city slid backward outside the window. The closer I got to the Rossi estate, the faster my heart hammered.

Worry about what was coming for me. Make my wish come true. Those words stuck in my brain like splinters I couldn't pull out.

I parked by the garden and headed inside. The second I hit the foyer, Lydia was waiting by the door.

"Elena. Mr. Rossi wants to see you. He is in the study." She said my name like it tasted funny, a hint of glee in her voice.

If it had been Isabella, she would've said Miss Isabella. I was used to the difference.

Every servant in this house knew Dad didn't treat me like a real Rossi. To him, I was dead weight he couldn't just toss out. I took a breath and walked toward the study.

The whole mansion was quiet in a way that felt wrong. All I heard was my own heavy breathing. Why was he calling me in out of nowhere? I hadn't done anything today besides the show.

Had Isabella told him I'd exhibited? Dad always said painting was a waste of time. And he definitely wouldn't let me show up at some "embarrassing little event" with the Rossi name attached.

I braced myself for his screaming and a few days locked in the basement again.

The study door was cracked, but I still knocked twice.

"Come in."

I stepped inside carefully and stopped in front of his desk. Something flew at me. I didn't dodge in time. The sharp edge of heavy paper scraped my cheek, stinging.

"Elena, you made me fucking ashamed." Dad stood behind the desk, staring at me like he wanted to rip me apart.

"Father, if this is about the art show—"

"You think I give a damn about your worthless paintings?" He slammed his palm onto the desk hard enough to rattle the files. "Pick up that letter on the floor and see what you've done."

I hesitated, then bent and grabbed it. The paper was thick. Only a few lines.

"Dad, I have left New York.

I can't accept my little sister sleeping with my fiancé. I can't pretend nothing happened and still go through with this wedding.

—Isabella."

My head went off like a bomb. So she hadn't been traveling.

"Why would she—"

"You still have the nerve to ask why?" Dad crossed the room in two strides, fisted my collar, and hauled me up like I weighed nothing. "You little whore. You slept with Isabella's fiancé, and you expected her to stick around and smile through the wedding?"

All the blood drained from my face. Even if Isabella had claimed she didn't care. Even if she'd said she didn't love Kiryan. She'd still left.

"I can... explain. It was an accident." I fought to speak, my words breaking as his grip tightened. "I was drunk. I read the... room number wrong. I thought it was mine. Kiryan thought I was— I knew I shouldn't have walked into the wrong room, but I never meant to ruin their marriage. I never—"

My feet dangled. I clutched at his wrist, gasping harder and harder.

"But you did ruin it." His eyes were dark, full of disgust. "First you wasted your days on useless painting. Now you've blown up an alliance between two families."

"I'm sorry, Father." My voice shook.

The lack of air made my fingertips go numb, like I'd been plunged into ice water. Even my thoughts stiffened. I should've begged forgiveness, but I didn't know what could ever be enough. Maybe I should've just died. Maybe that would've been better for everyone.

I shut my eyes.

Then, like he couldn't stand touching me anymore, he hurled me away. My feet hit the floor again. The force sent me stumbling. I grabbed the edge of a table before I went down.