Vivien never thought her favorite mafia novel would become her prison-until she woke up inside it, trapped as the villainess fiancée who was supposed to die.
She wasn't the heroine. She was the cruel woman who tormented Alina, the girl sold to Dante...
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No One’s POV
The pen slid across the page in slow, deliberate strokes. Lines took shape, forming Dante’s silhouette—though now, it looked different.
Hm… The tip scratched against paper, refining the jawline, softening the shadows around his eyes. Dante’s lines changed.
The corner of the sketcher’s mouth curled upward. “The tangle around him… cut off.”
Fingers tapped the page thoughtfully. “I made sure he would follow the script. Everything was supposed to go my way.”
A faint laugh, low and sharp. “You beat me to it, Viella. I guess I finally have to show up now.”
The pen stilled. The next move was decided.
---
Viella’s POV
I just stared at him, my lips parting but no sound escaping.
Wait… you… I… My thoughts scattered like glass hitting the floor. I couldn’t form a single word.
Dante’s eyes flicked over my frozen expression, and something unreadable passed through them. He stepped back just slightly, pressing a hand against his temple.
“Run… before I lose my mind,” he muttered, voice rough and strained—as if holding himself back cost him everything.
I didn’t wait to be told twice. My heart leapt into my throat as I bolted past him, out of the office, my footsteps echoing against the polished floor.
The hallway blurred, my only focus on away.
As I rounded the corner, Nonna appeared, her eyes widening the second she saw me. “Viella—!”
But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.
I dashed past her without a word, her confused voice fading behind me. My pulse was a drumbeat in my ears, my chest burning with the need to get out.
Somewhere behind me, I swore I could still feel Dante’s gaze—hot, unrelenting, and far from over.
---
By the time I stumbled through my front door, my head was pounding—sharp, relentless, like someone banging on the inside of my skull.
I waved the maids off with a quick, “Don’t bother me,” and slammed my bedroom door shut.
Throwing myself onto the bed, I pressed my palms over my face. What the actual hell is happening?
I thought I had it all under control. Every move, every reaction, perfectly aligned so that Dante’s obsession would stay where it was supposed to be—on Alina. Not me. Never me.
But now? He looked at her like she was invisible. And me? Like I was the only thing breathing in his world.
