The Perfect Doll He Discarded

The memory of that night two months ago came flooding back.

I had waited for four hours in Damien's penthouse.

I wore the black silk dress he loved. I lit a hundred candles.

Cigars and whiskey were on the table.

It was my perfectly planned proposal.

I was going to be his wife. The one light in his dark world.

The sound of the lock turning made my heart leap.

I took a deep breath, ready for his surprise.

But Damien didn't walk in alone.

Sophia Marcelli was clinging to his arm. Her red lips were practically at his ear.

The Marcelli family was one of Damien’s biggest rivals.

I knew exactly what her being here meant.

He wanted an alliance.

"Damien?" I stood up. My voice shook.

He glanced at the candles, at the dinner I’d arranged. A flash of annoyance crossed his face.

"Isabella, what is all this?"

"I thought we should talk. About our future."

Sophia let out a little laugh. "Oh, how romantic." Her fingers traced circles on Damien's chest.

My face burned with shame. "Damien, can we talk in private?"

"Sophia can hear anything I can hear." He walked to the bar and poured himself a whiskey. "Go on."

I took a shaky breath.

Even with her here, I had to say it.

"Marry me, Damien."

The whiskey glass froze halfway to his lips.

Then he turned. The look in his eyes made my blood run cold.

"Marry you?" he repeated, like it was the stupidest joke he'd ever heard.

"Yes. We can build a family. A real one. I can be..."

"You can be what?" he cut me off, his voice turning to ice. "A fragile vase I have to protect? A distraction?"

Sophia leaned back on the sofa, watching the show with a smirk.

"Damien, I love you," I choked out.

"Love?" He laughed, a cold, empty sound. "Isabella, do you know what I need? I need a queen to help me run this city. Not a piece of art I have to handle with care."

He walked over to Sophia. His hand stroked her cheek.

"Your purity bores me. This fairytale is over."

My world started spinning.

Three years of love. Three years of waiting. Wiped away with one word: "bored."

"You're not serious," I shook my head. "Damien, you can't..."

He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a small box.

My heart stopped. For a second, I thought he'd changed his mind.

But he opened it. Inside was a massive emerald ring.

A ring that symbolized an alliance between two families.

He got down on one knee.

But not for me.

"Sophia Marcelli." His voice was low and steady. "Be my wife. Be the queen of the Costello family."

Sophia shrieked with joy. She held out her hand for him to put the ring on her finger.

"Yes! Of course, yes!"

I just stood there. I watched it all happen. It felt like a sick movie.

The candles were still burning. The smell of whiskey still hung in the air.

But it all felt fake.

Damien kissed her hand, then stood up. He finally looked at me.

"Isabella, you can go now."

My legs felt weak. "Damien..."

"Security will see you out," he said, his voice flat. "Get your things."

Sophia hung on his arm, her new ring sparkling in the light.

"Darling, when are we going to Italy for our honeymoon?"

"Next week," he answered, his eyes still locked on me. "Everything's already arranged."

I turned and ran for the door. Tears blurred everything.

"Isabella," he called out one last time.

I stopped, a final, stupid sliver of hope in my heart.

"Don't ever pull a childish stunt like this again."

I surfaced from the haze of the past.

Now, standing in this elevator, facing Damien’s cold stare, a rage I’d never felt before burned in my chest.

He walked toward us slowly. Each step was a claim of ownership.

"A perfect piece of porcelain," his voice was a low hiss. "Such a shame it breaks so easily."

He stopped in front of me. He reached out to touch my face.

"But it's still my porcelain to break."