Author's POV
Three days after the night Gia beat Mateo de Villena bloody, the rumors in Spain still had not stopped turning.
In Madrid, in Seville, in private clubs and old money dinners filled with people who had nothing better to do than talk about the lives of their fellow elites, there was only one story that kept coming back.
Georgia Smith hit a man bloody in the middle of a party.
Some said she shattered his nose.
Some said she nearly killed him.
Some said Gabriel Smith and Anthony Yee did nothing but watch.
And that was the part that made the story even more frightening.
Because it was true.
Gabriel did not stand.
Anthony did not step in.
And in the eyes of those who witnessed it, that was even more terrifying than if the two men had charged forward. Because it meant they were that certain Gia could handle herself. Or worse, they did not see Mateo as a threat at all.
Gia was not surprised.
People were used to talking about her. She was also used to looking like she did not care.
On the morning of the fourth day, she was at an old private shooting estate outside the city, wearing a fitted black top, dark riding pants, and her hair tied carelessly at the back. No makeup. No jewelry. Nothing that would remind anyone she was one of the women who could buy an entire building if she wanted to.
In the distance, gunshots rang out one after another.
Controlled.
Clean.
Almost flawless.
This was not the part of her life she showed at galas, charity balls, and wine dinners. There, her beauty and her unfiltered attitude were enough to make people talk. Here, in places that smelled of gunpowder and sweat, a different Georgia came out.
Quieter.
Sharper.
More dangerous.
"Too slow."
She did not turn around. "Then stop talking and try me."
She heard the quiet exhale of her older brother Gabriel before he stepped beside her at the shooting lane. Immaculate as always, even in a place that did not suit expensive watches and quiet arrogance. Even dressed casually, Gabriel still looked more expensive than the entire estate they were standing on.
He had no bodyguards directly beside him, but Gia knew they were nearby. The same went for Anthony, who was currently seated in the shaded viewing area, quietly reading some document on his tablet as if he had no interest in the world at all.
Same lie.
They both cared. They just refused to admit it.
Gabriel loaded his weapon with effortless precision. "You missed twice."
Gia scoffed. "I let the target live."
"That's new."
"Don't make it weird."
They fired side by side.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Gia was faster. Her movements were sharper. Her presence more aggressive.
Gabriel was steadier. No wasted motion. No emotion.
After a few minutes, Gia lowered her earmuffs and turned to her brother. "Are you following me now?"
"No."
"You were at the gala. You were here yesterday. You're here today."
"I own places, Georgia. You just keep appearing in them."
She rolled her eyes. "You're obsessed."
"I'm annoyed."
"Same thing."
From the viewing area, Anthony did not even lift his head when he spoke. "You're both exhausting."
Gia looked at him. "And yet you keep showing up."
"Because Gabriel refuses to shoot you."
"I'd win."
This time, Anthony looked at both of them, calm and cold as ever. "You'd both damage the property."
Gia smiled faintly. Of the three of them, Anthony was the most skilled at delivering lines so flat they carried their own kind of humor. The kind that made you wonder whether it was an insult or simply the truth.
Gia set her gun down and walked away from the lane, heading straight for the long wooden table where water and extra rounds had been placed. She could feel Gabriel's eyes on her back, but she did not turn.
They did not need to speak directly to understand each other.
Her brother could read her.
And that was irritating.
She had been in a foul mood for days, and it was not because of the gossip. She did not care about people whose opinions were nothing more than decoration in their own lives.
What irritated her was the way some of the older people around them had looked at her after the incident with Mateo.
Not fear.
Not annoyance.
Exhaustion.
As if she was expected.
As if everything she did only confirmed something people had already accepted about her.
That she was too much.
And she hated that feeling.
She hated knowing there were eyes around her measuring her as if she were a problem instead of a person.
"Stop thinking," Gabriel said from behind her.
She did not turn around. "Stop breathing."
"Tempting."
"I can help."
She heard the soft clink of a glass as Anthony poured himself water. "Please don't. I'm not in the mood for another burial this week."
Gia let out a short laugh. "You sound busy."
"I am."
"Where this time?"
"South America."
"Still ugly?"
Anthony gave her a look. "Worse. Politicians."
"Disgusting."
"Exactly."
At last, she looked at Anthony and leaned against the table. "So why are you here?"
"Because Gabriel is in Europe."
"And?"
"And he becomes more unpleasant when you're around."
Gabriel did not deny it.
Instead, he simply picked up his glass of water and drank as if no insult had just passed between them. Gia's lips curved slightly. In their family, that was the closest thing to casual affection.
They were not clingy.
They were not openly affectionate.
But of all the things Gia kept hidden, one of the most carefully buried truths was the simple fact that she liked it when Gabriel and Anthony were around. Not because she needed them to protect her.
But because with the two of them there, she felt more certain that no one could try anything against her without first passing through hell.
By late afternoon, they went their separate ways.
Anthony had somewhere to be. Gabriel had a meeting. And Gia, as usual, told no one where she was going next. No one asked either. Not because the two men did not care, but because they knew that when Gia did not want to speak, there was no point in pushing.
Gabriel drove off first.
Anthony left next.
And Gia, instead of heading back to her own penthouse, spent the night at a small but expensive private hotel in Cádiz where almost no one recognized her except the manager and two employees who had long been paid not to ask questions.
She was standing on the balcony of her suite when her phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Georgina.
Her twin.
She did not answer right away. She simply watched her twin's name flash over and over on the screen while the sea breeze moved softly around her.
Between the two of them, Georgina was the calmer one in other people's eyes. More composed. More polished. Better at smiling at the right moment.
But as her twin, Gia knew that Georgina's silence could be more dangerous than her own explosions.
When she finally answered, she did not say hello.
"What."
From the other end of the line, she heard her twin's soft but tired exhale. "That's how you answer me now?"
"How else would you like it?"
"With love, maybe."
"Wrong twin."
There was a brief silence before Georgina laughed softly. "You're in a bad mood."
"I'm alive."
"So I heard."
"Then you also heard Mateo cried."
"He did not cry."
"He wanted to."
The line fell quiet again. Then Georgina spoke once more, and this time her voice was lower.
"Gia."
Gia looked into the darkness below the balcony. "What."
"I found out something."
She said nothing.
She just waited.
She knew her twin's tone. This was not the tone of gossip. It was not the tone of a simple warning either.
It was the voice Georgina used when she had something to say that Gia absolutely would not want to hear.
"There's a marriage arrangement being prepared."
That was when Gia fell completely silent.
Not because she was deeply shocked.
But because of the way Georgina had said it.
Prepared.
Not being considered.
Not being discussed.
Prepared.
As if it were already done.
As if things were already moving without even giving her the chance to curse everyone involved first.
Gia leaned back against the railing, her face turning colder by the second. "For who."
Georgina did not answer right away.
And in that silence, Gia already knew the answer.
She laughed once.
Dry. Sharp. Dangerous.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"I'm not."
"Who told you?"
"That part doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
"Gia."
"Who."
The silence stretched longer. Then, softly, "It reached Brandon first. Then me."
Gia stared into nothing. The sea in front of her was dark. Quiet. But inside her, it felt like heavy steel was rattling with anger.
"How long."
"I don't know when it started," Georgina said. "But I know offers are already being floated."
Gia let out a short breath that was almost a laugh.
Offers.
Not proposals.
Offers.
As if she had a price.
As if she were a transaction.
As if she were not a person.
"Interesting," she said coldly.
"Gia."
"Interesting," she repeated, this time softer, which was worse.
Georgina did not speak at once. She knew her. She understood what it meant when Gia's voice suddenly became quieter.
It meant she was angrier.
More dangerous.
And closer to doing something irreversible.
"Listen to me," Georgina said, firmer now. "This isn't final."
"They're offering me around."
"Not like that."
Gia laughed. "You don't even believe that."
No answer came from the other end.
Exactly.
"Do you know what the funniest part is?" Gia asked, still staring out at the dark water. "I don't even know if I should be offended or impressed."
"Gia."
"No, really. It's creative." She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Do they think I'll sit there and wait to be handed over like a difficult asset?"
Her twin exhaled slowly. "I called because I knew you had a right to know."
"At least someone in this family remembers that."
"Don't do anything stupid."
At that, Gia closed her eyes briefly, then smiled even more coldly.
"That's adorable."
"Georgia."
Very few people used her full name unless they were completely serious.
But instead of being shaken, Gia only turned even harder.
"What do they know about me?" she asked quietly. "They know enough to arrange a sale, but not enough to realize I'd burn the whole thing down first?"
"Don't talk like that."
"I'm talking exactly how I should."
Georgina fell silent again. And because she was her twin, she knew there was no point trying to force Gia to calm down at that point.
So when Georgina spoke again, her tone had changed. Softer. Truer.
"Whatever you do, tell me first."
Gia turned toward her own reflection in the glass balcony door. She and Georgina had the same face. Equally beautiful. Equally dangerous in different ways.
But that night, she felt the distance between them more sharply.
One was still inside the system.
The other was only a few steps away from turning her back on it.
"I'll think about it," Gia said.
They both knew it was not a promise.
After the call ended, she remained on the balcony for a long time.
The world around her was quiet.
The sea was quiet.
The phone in her hand was quiet.
But in her mind, something was already moving fast.
She had not left yet.
She had not started planning.
Not yet.
But for the first time, Gia felt the clear, solid shape of a possibility.
If they wanted to pass the burden, they would have to find the burden first.
Slowly, she set her phone down on the table beside her and looked back at the dark water.
In Spain, she was known as trouble.
As an inconvenience.
As a woman too much for the wrong men.
Fine.
If they wanted to treat her like a problem, then she would become impossible to contain.
And in the way she smiled that night, only one thing was clear.
Whoever thought Georgia Smith would remain in a place where people were planning the price of her life had made a very serious mistake.