Chapter 3 Denied blood

Aria sat on the edge of her bed, fists clenched, her heart hammering in her chest. Her skin still burned from the shock of what Matteo had said the night before. Marry him? Just like that? As if she were some pawn to be moved across the board for someone else's victory?

No one had even asked her.

Not her father. Not her mother.

And definitely not him.

The door to her room creaked open.

"Aria," her mother's voice floated in. "Come downstairs, we need to talk."

She didn't move at first. But then, with slow, dragging steps, she walked down the hall, down the stairs, and into the living room where her mother, father, and-of course-Bella were waiting. Her father's face was unreadable, while her mother looked nervous, smoothing down the hem of her blouse. Bella was perched on the couch, legs crossed, looking like she was waiting for a show.

Aria stood before them, arms folded tightly.

"Why?" she asked. Her voice cracked despite her effort to keep it steady. "Why would you agree to this? Without even telling me?"

Her father sighed. "It's what's best for our family, Aria. You must understand, this isn't about emotions. This is survival."

"I'm not a business transaction!" Her voice rose, breaking through the polite stillness of the room. "You didn't even think to ask how I felt about marrying a stranger?"

Her mother stepped forward. "He's not just any man, sweetheart. He's powerful, respected. And he chose you."

Aria's breath hitched. "He chose me because I'm quiet. Because I won't fight back. Because Bella would be too loud, too obvious."

Bella rolled her eyes and stood. "Please. Like you'd even know how to be a wife to someone like Leonardo Ricci."

Aria blinked. "What?"

"That's who he is. Leonardo Matteo Ricci. You didn't even bother to Google him, did you?" Bella scoffed. "You think you'll survive in his world? You cry when people raise their voice."

"That's enough, Bella," their mother snapped, though there was no real heat in it.

Bella smirked. "I'm just saying what we're all thinking. She's not ready for that kind of life. She's never even been kissed."

"Stop!" Aria's voice cracked as her tears finally spilled over. "Just stop acting like I'm some burden you all have to manage!"

Her father looked down at his hands.

Her mother sighed.

No one defended her.

With a choked sob, Aria turned on her heel and stormed out the front door, slamming it behind her.

She didn't know where she was going until her feet led her to the corner of the street where the buses stopped.        Dialing the most frequent number on her call log,  she waited for her best fried to answer the call. Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she glanced down at the screen.

Lina: You okay? Want to get out for a bit?

Aria sniffed, wiped her tears, and typed back:

Please.

An hour later, Aria sat at a rooftop lounge with her best friend, Lina, who handed her a mojito and a napkin at the same time.

"Drink and cry. In that order," Lina said, brushing her wild curls back with a grin.

Aria laughed, though it broke in the middle.

Lina's face softened. "Hey. Talk to me."

Aria sipped the drink, letting the mint and lime distract her for a second before she sighed. "They want me to marry him. That guy. The one from the dinner."

Lina blinked. "Wait, what?"

"Leonardo Ricci."

"The Ricci? Like... the Ricci Empire? The man who probably owns half of Milan and the silence in every courtroom?"

Aria nodded.

Lina let out a low whistle. "Damn. I mean, yeah, he's ridiculously good-looking in that scary mafia CEO kind of way, but-wait. Are you actually marrying him?"

"I don't want to." Her voice dropped. "But my dad... he said we're falling apart. That this is the only way to save everything."

Lina frowned. "That's so messed up. You're not a solution. You're a person."

"Bella thinks I'd make a terrible wife."

Lina rolled her eyes so hard Aria thought they might stick. "Bella thinks the world revolves around her TikTok followers. Ignore her."

"I tried," Aria said. "But sometimes I wonder if she's right."

Lina grabbed her hands across the table. "Listen to me, Aria. Just because you're quieter doesn't mean you're weak. And you're not less just because your family's blind to what you carry. You have a spine, and you have a heart. That man? He won't know what hit him."

Aria smiled faintly. "I don't want to be married to someone like that, Lina. He doesn't even want a wife. He said that himself."

Lina narrowed her eyes. "And what do you want?"

Aria paused. The city lights sparkled beyond the railing. "To be seen. Just once. For who I am. Not for who I make life easier for."

Lina raised her glass. "Then let's start with tonight. No talking about mafia marriages or spoiled sisters. Tonight, you're just Aria. And she deserves a damn good night."

Aria stood in front of the mirror, holding up two dresses with a doubtful frown. One was black, simple, hugging her curves just enough to feel bold. The other-a shimmering midnight blue-was something Lina had stuffed into her arms the moment she agreed to go out.

"You are not going to a funeral," Lina had said. "You're going to reclaim your damn life."

With a hesitant breath, Aria slipped into the blue dress. The fabric clung in all the right places, the neckline daring without being vulgar. She smoothed her hands down her sides, eyeing her reflection. For once, she didn't look like someone's afterthought. She looked... alive.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she applied eyeliner, the motion unfamiliar. She rarely wore makeup. Bella always said she wasn't the type. But tonight, Aria didn't care what Bella thought.

She added a soft coat of lipstick, spritzed on perfume, and pulled her hair into a loose, effortless updo that Lina insisted was "hot girl effortless."

The heels felt strange on her feet, but they gave her height-presence.

Aria stared at herself one last time, lips pressed into a line.

Tonight, she wasn't the invisible sister.

Tonight, she was just Aria.

They danced under neon lights, laughed over overpriced fries, and walked home barefoot with heels in hand, ignoring the stares of passersby. For a few hours, Aria forgot the weight of her name, the price of her silence, and the cold future waiting behind closed doors.

But even as she lay in Lina's apartment that night, curled under soft blankets, a part of her knew-tomorrow, the pressure would return.

Because the Ricci name didn't wait for consent. It demanded obedience.

And her parents had already given hers away.