"No-please-don't do this!" Seraphina sobbed, her voice cracking as she clung to her eldest brother's wrist. "I-I'll be good. I'll do whatever you say, just don't-"
A sharp crack echoed through the room as his palm struck her cheek, sending her crash...
This is me publishing from a Cafe's wifi cuz mine won't work and the network sucks 😒
Also, could you please drop reviews on the books on inkitt too ❤️
VOTE TARGET ~ 150 Next Chapter - Monday ❤️
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The Valencias and the Delgados stood like a wall of painted porcelain—beautiful, brittle, and utterly fake.
They all turned the moment the Romanovs entered.
Seraphina stood half a step behind Rafael, her hand loosely curled in his, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. She felt smaller under their collective gaze, as if she'd shrunk back into the terrified, invisible girl they used to ignore.
"Took you long enough," Alonzo tried to joke, a forced laugh under his breath.
Rafael didn't even blink.
No smile. No greeting. Just a bone-chilling silence.
Instead Rafael turned without waiting for another word, placing his hand on Seraphina's lower back protectively..
"Hello, Mr. Romanov" Santiago Delgado stepped forward, a practiced smile on his face as he extended his hand toward Rafael.
"Unfortunately, I couldn't make it to your wedding, Mr. Romanov," Santiago said smoothly, trying to sound unfazed. "But allow me to offer my congratulations."
Rafael didn't move.
He simply looked at the offered hand, then lifted his gaze—slowly—until his hazel eyes met Santiago's. Cold. Blank. Unforgiving.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy, before Rafael finally spoke. His voice was low, composed, but sharp enough to cut.
"Save the formalities, Delgado," he said, his tone almost bored. "I'm sure your absence made the day a little more tolerable."
The smirk on Santiago's face faltered for a fraction of a second.
"And as for congratulations," Rafael continued, stepping forward just slightly, his frame casting a shadow over the man, "if you meant it, you'd have said it without waiting for an audience."
Santiago cleared his throat, retracting his hand slowly, trying to maintain his poise. "I meant no disrespect. Just wanted to—"
"You did. Two years ago. In Milan." Rafael's gaze didn't waver. "I remember everything."
Santiago stiffened.
"But you're still here. Breathing. That makes you lucky," Rafael finished, his tone calm, but the weight of the threat beneath it unmistakable.
Rafael's eyes dragged over him. A slow once-over.
The way one might look at a roach in a wine glass.
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