Chapter 5 5

The morning after the gala, Zara awoke to the heavy silence of her room. She hadn't slept much, her mind still reeling from the conversation with Damon. His words, the warmth of his touch, and the intensity in his gaze lingered with her, creating a storm of doubt within her. The carefully constructed walls she had built around herself over the years began to crack, and she feared what would happen if she let herself feel too much.

Her father's voice rang in her ears, reminding her of the importance of their family's legacy, of the responsibility she bore as the heir to the Moretti name. She had always known that her choices would never be hers alone-that the path her father had chosen for her was one of duty, not love. But the conversation with Damon had shown her a glimpse of something different, something raw and untamed, and it terrified her.

Zara lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of her situation pressing down on her chest. She didn't want to disappoint her family, but at the same time, she couldn't ignore the deep yearning inside her to live a life of her own making. Damon had shown her the possibility of something else-something that didn't involve the rigid rules of her family's world, a life that wasn't dictated by power and influence.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and she sat up, quickly wiping away the stray tear that had slipped down her cheek. She hadn't realized she was crying until now. The emotional turmoil she was facing felt like a whirlwind, leaving her breathless.

"Zara, it's time for breakfast," her mother's voice called from the other side.

With a sigh, Zara stood from the bed, smoothing the creases in her nightgown. She knew what this morning would bring. It would be another attempt to reinforce the future her parents had envisioned for her, another reminder that she was merely a pawn in their game.

She opened the door, forcing a smile as she looked at her mother, who stood in the hallway with a gentle expression. "Good morning, darling. You look a bit pale. Did you sleep well?"

Zara nodded, though the truth was far from it. "I'm fine, Mother."

Her mother studied her for a moment, a flicker of concern passing through her eyes. "You've been distant lately. I hope everything is alright."

"Everything is fine," Zara replied, though her voice betrayed her. She couldn't mask the turmoil within her.

"Well, come downstairs. Your father will be expecting you. We have much to discuss."

Zara followed her mother down the grand staircase, the familiar opulence of the Moretti mansion surrounding her. The polished floors, the towering marble columns, and the grand chandelier that hung above them all served as reminders of the life her family had built-wealth, power, and control. This was the world she was born into, the world she was expected to uphold.

But in her heart, something felt wrong. Her every step seemed weighed down by invisible chains, and every breath felt like a struggle. She had always been told that sacrifice was part of the legacy she had to uphold, but at what cost?

Downstairs, her father was already seated at the head of the long dining table. His presence commanded attention, and his sharp eyes immediately focused on Zara as she entered the room. He didn't smile; he rarely did. He was a man of few words, but his gaze was always calculating, always assessing.

"Good morning, Zara," he said in his usual terse manner. "Sit."

Zara obeyed, taking her place at the table. Her mother sat next to her, folding her napkin in a deliberate manner, her eyes occasionally glancing at Zara with an expression that was hard to decipher. It was as if she, too, had noticed the shift in Zara's demeanor but didn't know how to address it.

"I trust you enjoyed the gala last night," her father began, his voice clipped. "It was an important event. The DeLucas are not just an ally-they are our future, Zara. Your engagement to Matteo is more than just a formality. It's a political move. You understand that, don't you?"

Zara clenched her fists under the table, fighting the urge to lash out. She didn't want to be a part of some political game, some bargaining chip in a deal her father had made years ago. She didn't want to be bound to a man she didn't love for the sake of family pride.

"Yes, Father," she said, her voice steady, though her insides churned. "I understand."

Her father's eyes softened slightly, but there was no warmth in his gaze-only the cold calculation of a man who saw everything as part of a grand design. "Good. Then you know what's at stake. I expect you to carry yourself with the dignity that befits our family name. You are not just a woman, Zara. You are a Moretti. Everything you do reflects on us. You must remember that."

Zara nodded, feeling the weight of his words like a heavy stone in her chest. She didn't know how much longer she could pretend that this was the life she wanted, the life she was meant for. Every word he spoke, every expectation placed upon her, felt more like a prison than a legacy.

Her mother reached across the table, her hand lightly resting on Zara's. "You're going to be wonderful, darling," she said, her voice soft and reassuring. "Matteo is a good man. He will take care of you."

Zara didn't respond. She couldn't bring herself to reassure her mother with the lie she knew she had to tell. Matteo was a good man, yes-but he wasn't the man she needed. He wasn't the man who made her feel alive, who made her question everything she had ever known.

After breakfast, Zara excused herself, unable to sit through any more of the conversation about the future her parents had planned for her. She needed space, time to think, and to try to make sense of the turmoil that consumed her.

She left the house without a word, her mind whirling as she stepped outside into the crisp morning air. The streets of the city bustled around her, but she felt completely disconnected from it all. The life she had known-the life her parents had built for her-felt so far away now, so suffocating.

Zara walked aimlessly, her feet carrying her without direction, her thoughts clouded with uncertainty. She had to make a choice. She couldn't live this life of pretense any longer. She couldn't go through with a marriage to Matteo that felt like a death sentence. But the other option-the one that Damon had hinted at-felt just as terrifying.

She needed to find a way to reconcile the two halves of herself: the woman who was born into this world of power and privilege, and the woman who longed for freedom, for love that wasn't dictated by family ties and power struggles.

Her feet carried her to a park, a quiet oasis amid the chaos of the city. She sat on a bench, her hands folded tightly in her lap, staring at the trees and the leaves that rustled gently in the wind.

Damon's words echoed in her mind: You don't have to choose the life they've mapped out for you, Zara. You don't have to live for them.

She closed her eyes, trying to push away the fear that gripped her. Could she really defy her family? Could she walk away from everything she had ever known? What would it mean for her parents, for her legacy?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. Her eyes snapped open, and she turned her head to find Damon standing a few feet away.

"You've been avoiding me," he said, his voice a mixture of amusement and something darker, something that seemed to stir something deep inside her.

Zara didn't answer at first, her heart racing at the sight of him. He was a vision of confidence and control, the very thing she lacked in her own life.

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I don't know what's right, what's wrong."

Damon walked closer, his eyes softening as he looked down at her. "You don't need to know everything right now. Just listen to yourself. Listen to what you truly want, not what they want you to want."

Her eyes filled with tears, the weight of her decision finally crashing down on her. She had spent so long trying to live up to her family's expectations, trying to be the perfect daughter, the perfect heir. But now, standing here with Damon, the idea of living her own life-of following her heart-felt so real, so terrifyingly possible.

"I don't want to disappoint them," Zara whispered, her voice cracking.

"You won't be disappointing anyone by choosing yourself," Damon replied gently. "The only person you owe anything to is you."

Her heart raced as she stood, the words sinking in. This was it. The moment where everything would change. She could no longer stay in the world that had suffocated her for so long. The choice was hers. And with Damon standing beside her, maybe, just maybe, she could take the first step toward freedom.