Chapter 8: The Breaking Point

**Elena’s POV**

I couldn’t sleep all night.

I was up before dawn, pacing the cold floor barefoot, my stomach twisting with anxiety.

When I finally gathered the courage to face my father, I quietly slipped out of my room. My legs trembled so much I had to clutch the doorframe for support, hoping no one would notice how distraught I looked.

“Lena,” Lucia called softly from behind me. “Where are you going?”

“To see my father,” I mumbled, not looking at her.

She followed, her heels clicking softly on the tiles. “Maybe you should wait,” she said. “He’s with Elario, discussing the wedding.”

I turned to look at her. “That’s exactly why I’m going now,” I stated firmly.

Lucia paused, her hand hanging by her side, and for a moment, I noticed a flicker in her eyes, possibly fear or simply concern, before she managed a faint smile and remained by the stairs. Her voice was just a whisper as she said, "Good luck."

I kept my eyes forward, refusing to look back, because if I did, I knew I might lose my nerve.

When I entered my father’s study, both men turned their attention to me.

“Elena,” my father said, setting his pen down. “What is it, cara?”

I took a moment to gather my breath, feeling the weight of what I needed to say. “Papa, I need to talk about the wedding.”

Elario frowned, his arms crossed tightly. “What about it?”

I met my father’s gaze directly. “I don’t want to go through with it.”

Silence surrounded us, and I could feel every second stretch out until I wanted to scream to break it.

My father’s expression didn’t shift immediately. He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming on the arm, watching me as if processing my words. "What did you just say?"

“I don’t want to marry Stefano.”

Elario’s eyes widened in shock. His lips parted as if to protest before he spoke. "Elena, that’s not something you can just decide…"

"Yes, it is," I hissed. "I don’t like him; he’s cold and cruel, and I won’t freaking spend my life trapped under another man’s control!”

Elario stepped forward, trying to calm me. “Maybe you misunderstood him. Stefano is…”

“I said no, Elario!” I shouted, my throat burning from the intensity, “Don’t defend him. You didn’t see how he looked at me. You didn’t feel it.”

Elario’s mouth hung open, his face twisted up in confusion, brows drawn tight, but before he could say anything, my father’s voice filled the room.

“You think you can just refuse?” he demanded. “You have no idea what you’re saying. Men like Stefano Bernardo won't forgive humiliation.”

“I don’t care,” I replied quietly, gathering my strength. “I’m not marrying him.”

My father stood up slowly, the chair creaking behind him. "This marriage isn’t just about what you want, Elena. It’s about what’s best for you and for all of us."

I looked him in the eye. "You said this marriage would protect me, but it just feels like another cage. I won’t do it."

He slammed his hand on the desk, and I flinched at the sound, "Do you understand what’s at stake? You will go through with this, Elena. That’s final."

“Then you’ll have to drag me there yourself!” I yelled, my voice trembling with adrenaline. My heart hammered wildly in my chest.

His eyes darkened, his lips pressed into a thin line, and for a split second,I thought he might hit me.

Elario stepped between us; his voice was a tense, low plea. "Elena, think about this. It’s not just about you. In our world, broken deals aren't just forgiven — they're punished. Do you honestly believe Stefano will just let this go?"

“I’ve lived in danger my whole life,” I said, my heart aching. “At least this time, it will be my choice.”

My father’s jaw clenched in frustration. "You are my daughter," he ground out through gritted teeth. "You won’t destroy everything I’ve built over some childish rebellion."

"Then maybe I don’t want to be your daughter anymore."

I heard the words leave my mouth before I could even think to stop them, and the shock of it made my hands shake.

The room went still, so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Elario looked away, his face pale. My father stood frozen, his mouth slightly open, brows furrowed in stunned disbelief at what I’d said.

“Get out! Go to your room!” he growled.

I walked out on shaky legs, not trusting myself to look at anyone or to keep my voice steady if I tried to say anything else.

Lucia waited by the door, her expression filled with worry. "Lena? What happened?"

“She’s fine,” Elario said, following me out, his tone heavy with defeat.

“I need some air,” I muttered as I brushed past them.

As evening fell, I sat on my bed, staring at the wall until my eyes ached. The same thought kept repeating in my mind — I can’t stay here, not for another night.

Fear crept up my spine as I recalled the last time I tried to run, vividly remembering how dangerously close I was to death.

Downstairs, my father’s footsteps echoed as he paced back and forth, arguing with Elario. I let their words fade into the background, too exhausted to care about their scheming.

I sat down at my desk, pulling out a sheet of paper, and for once, my hands didn’t shake; they felt steady, like I’d finally made up my mind.

I pressed the pen firmly against the paper, writing quickly without hesitation.

I WILL NEVER MARRY HIM.

I folded the paper and placed it next to the ring, his ring, as if I was finally returning something that never really belonged to me.

I pushed the window open, feeling the cold night air on my face, and for a moment I just stood there, breathing it in.

I hesitated for one frantic second, my heart pounding so loudly, but I didn’t let myself stop.

I have to do this, I can’t marry him.

I climbed over the ledge, gripping the cold stone so tightly my fingers ached. I kept my gaze focused on what I was doing; I just couldn’t look down.

Oh God! Help me! Don't let me fall. I can't die here.

As soon as my feet touched the soft grass, I bolted, staying close to the shadows to evade the guards and never daring to look over my shoulders, not even once.