THIRD PERSON'S POINT OF VIEW
"What do you even want with her?! She's got nothing to give—why throw money away on—" Sera's mother's words choked off as the stranger turned his eyes to her. The look in them was sharp as a blade, cutting through her bluster.
"Be quiet." His voice was flat, cold as wet concrete. He tossed a briefcase to the dirt at their feet.
It popped open. Cash spilled over the edges—thick stacks of bills that caught the sun and made their pupils widen. Confusion faded first, then worry, then anything that looked like care for Sera. Money was all they'd ever hungered for, and this man was offering more than they'd dared to ask for their daughter.
The stranger glanced at the governor, who stared at his own shoes. His jaw worked, hands trembling at his sides. He knew the name—whispered in boardrooms and back alleys, tied to power and things best left unspoken. Dangerous. Way out of his depth. Better to step aside and let the girl go.
Inside the car, Sera sat in dark so deep it felt like a blanket pressed over her face. She mapped the world with what she had left: the hum of the engine under her palms, the clean smell of leather, the faint scent of something woodsy from the front seat. Yesterday, she could have picked out the purple of bougainvillea or the burnt orange of a street lamp. Now there was only this—endless, heavy night.
The door swung open. Someone slid in beside her, and she flinched, pressing back against the doorframe, arms wrapped tight around her knees. She couldn't see his face, couldn't read his hands—if he meant to hurt her, she'd have nowhere to run.
"You're safe now. I won't hurt you."
His voice was low, cool as river water—and it sent shivers up her spine. She held her breath, too scared to make a sound.
"From what I hear, you're blind. Not mute, though."
"I'm not mute." The words burst out before she could stop them. She wanted to clamp her hand over her mouth—why had she answered so fast?
A soft laugh rumbled in his chest, a sound that made warmth prickle at her neck and shoulders.
"Good. No fun in a toy that can't speak up."
Her jaw tightened. She turned toward him, even though all she saw was black.
She couldn't believe it. The urge to throw herself from the moving car was so strong she had to grip the door handle until her knuckles ached.
"W-What—do you want my body too?!" She trembled, fingers fumbling to make the sign of the cross as the car pulled onto the highway. "It's wrong to force someone—that's rape! I won't—I won't sleep with anyone! Blind doesn't mean helpless—I can fight you! What's so funny?!"
He laughed again, even as tears stung her eyes, hot and thick.
"Hmm… really? But what if you're my wife?"
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Anger flared up, hot enough to burn through fear.
"Non-consent is rape, no matter who you are—husband, stranger, anyone! Wait—wife? What are you talking about?!" Terror seized her all over again. Had she traded one nightmare for something worse?
He only hummed in reply, and said nothing more for the rest of the ride. He didn't touch her, didn't lean close. Eventually, exhaustion pulled her under, and she fell into a sleep so deep she didn't feel the car slow down.
Night had settled over the city by the time they arrived: a sprawling estate tucked into Chateau de Taltal, one of the capital's most exclusive villages. The man stepped out of the car, his shoulders set, his gaze as cold as the air. Even in dim light, his eyes stood out—emerald green, sharp as chips of glass.
"Sir Lucian! The madam's inside—she's been waiting."
A guard jogged over, breathless.
"Tell her to hold on. I need a minute."
The guard nodded and vanished into the mansion as Lucian leaned against the car's hood, arms crossed, eyes closed.
This wasn't why he'd come to the US. How had he ended up playing hero, chasing after a girl he'd never met?
[FLASHBACK]
"Sir! The hospital's on the phone!"
Lucian's brow furrowed as his man approached, phone held out with a tight, worried look. He didn't ignore panic—not from his people.
He peeled off blood-stained gloves, tossed his baseball bat to the floor, and stepped over a bleeding hand without a glance. He pulled out his vape, took a slow hit of mint, then answered.
"Is this Mr. Vitale?" A woman's voice, careful and strained.
Lucian exhaled a thin cloud of smoke. "Yeah. What does Ferrer want?" He spoke flatly, gesturing for his men to clear the room.
"Sir… your grandmother—"
He hung up. Striding to his car, he slammed his palm against the steering wheel as the engine roared to life.
"Damn it, old woman!" He pressed his foot to the gas, worry coiling hot in his chest. She was all the family he had left.
"Ma'am, please—you'll pull your stitches!"
Lucian heard the nurses' shouts before he even reached the room. Of course she was causing a scene—stubbornness was as much a part of her as her fortune.
Relief washed over him when he saw her. Alive. Bruised, with a bandage wrapped tight around her side, but her eyes were bright as ever.
"What's all the noise for?" he called out as he walked in, and every head turned. People always noticed him—his sharp features, the way he filled a room without trying. But no one felt the weight of him the way she did.
She threw a pillow at his head. He caught it easily, tucking it aside.
"What now?" He pulled a chair beside her bed, nodded for the nurses to leave. She quieted once the door clicked shut.
He leaned back, studying her pale face.
"This is about that again, isn't it?"
She didn't answer, staring at the ceiling, her expression soft with sadness.
"I was taken again, L," she said quietly. "But a girl saved me."
He raised an eyebrow, waiting.
"She was… kind. Not just to me—she saw trouble and ran straight into it, even though she didn't know me. And in the end… she lost her sight because of it."
Lucian's jaw tightened. He heard the catch in her voice, saw tears tracking down her cheeks.
"Stop crying. You're not a kid." He stood, pulling her into a gentle embrace, rubbing her back until she calmed.
She sobbed harder. "W-What'll happen to her? The nurses said her own mother was here yesterday—treated her like she was trash…"
He clicked his tongue. "This isn't a story. Maybe it's not as bad as you think—"
She looked up at him, and he knew she'd seen through his gruffness. She was the only one who ever could.
After a few minutes, she settled. He was peeling an apple with a small silver knife when she spoke again.
"Find her, L." Her voice was firm, no room for argument.
He huffed a laugh. "Back to your old self?"
She shot him a glare. "I haven't cried like that in decades. But I mean it—find her for me."
"Why should I? I've got work." He kept his voice cold, but she only stared him down.
"Fine. Then you can stay out of the US for good—"
"What's the point?" he cut in.
She smiled, slow and knowing. "I want to pay her back. If I have all this and can't even thank the person who saved my life… what good is any of it?"
"You're wasting your time. You should go back to Italy for the show."
She cackled, wincing as she pressed a hand to her side. "Idiot—look at me. I'm not going anywhere."
He couldn't argue with that. She was infuriating.
"Did you handle the ones who took you?"
"Of course I did." She raised an eyebrow. "I own a hundred brands, built this with my own hands—reporters are already lining up for a statement."
Lucian said nothing, but her next words made him pause, knife stilling over the apple.
"Find her… and marry her, L. Make it my last wish."
So he had. At first, he'd only planned to find the girl to quiet his grandmother—marriage was never part of the deal. But seeing Sera standing there, her shoulders tight with fear, even her closed eyes couldn't hide how clear her spirit was. Something shifted in him then—sharp, sudden, and impossible to ignore. He'd give his grandmother exactly what she wanted.
Lucian had always been drawn to beautiful women—his reputation as a playboy was well-earned. But this girl… a blind woman from the provinces, who'd risked everything for a stranger. Who would have guessed she'd make his chest feel tight, like he'd swallowed something warm and sharp?
A man known across the globe… pulled in by someone he'd just met?
A slow smile touched his lips as he looked through the car window at Sera, still sleeping, her mouth slightly parted.
"Hmm. What's with that look?"
He turned to see his associate walking over. "Get me a lawyer. And a marriage contract—ready to sign."
His eyes drifted back to her lips, pink and soft in the glow of the estate lights.
"I'm getting married. Damn it."