CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 5
The Rules of the Rossi King
Power revealed itself in different ways.
Some men proved they were kings by making others kneel.
Dante Rossi had never believed in kneeling.
Respect earned through fear vanished the moment fear found a stronger master.
Respect earned through justice endured.
That was the first lesson his father had taught him.
It was also the last.
Because three months before his father died, he had looked at sixteen-year-old Dante and said,
"A man who terrifies his own family isn't a king."
"He's only another tyrant."
Dante had never forgotten those words.
Now, standing in the center of Rossi Manor with nearly forty members of his household waiting for instructions, he intended to make certain no one else ever would.
The grand hall fell silent as he descended the marble staircase.
Capos.
Housekeepers.
Drivers.
Security officers.
Kitchen staff.
Everyone who lived or worked inside the estate stood facing him.
Luca waited near the fireplace.
Rosa folded her hands neatly before her apron.
Even Marco, leaning casually against a pillar, straightened when Dante stopped at the bottom step.
His expression remained calm.
His voice carried effortlessly through the hall.
"From today forward, there are new rules."
No one moved.
"You will address Mrs. Rossi with the same respect you give me."
Several heads nodded immediately.
"If she asks for something, it is to be done."
"If she refuses something, the answer is no."
His gaze swept across the room.
"No one follows her."
"No one reports on her movements."
"No one enters her room without permission."
The words settled heavily over the gathering.
Dante continued.
"If anyone makes her uncomfortable..."
He paused.
"...you answer to me."
There was no need to raise his voice.
Everyone understood exactly what that meant.
Only Marco smiled.
"So we're treating her like royalty now?"
Dante looked at him.
"We're treating her like a human being."
Marco shrugged.
"Same difference."
"No."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"It isn't."
Marco's smile faded.
Dante dismissed everyone except his inner circle.
The servants quietly dispersed.
Only Luca, Sophia, Marco, and Rosa remained.
Luca waited until the doors closed.
"You think someone here might be reporting back to Sterling?"
"I assume someone is."
Marco laughed.
"Paranoid?"
"Cautious."
Sophia placed a folder on the table.
"We've already changed the internal security codes."
"Good."
"We're also rotating guards every twelve hours."
Marco frowned.
"Over one woman?"
Dante met his cousin's eyes.
"No."
"Over someone who has already survived more than she should have."
Upstairs, Aria had heard every word.
She hadn't meant to listen.
She had only stepped into the hallway when Dante began speaking.
Now she stood hidden behind the carved wooden railing, staring down into the entrance hall.
No one had ever announced rules to protect her before.
Rules had always been created to control her.
At Sterling Manor, there had been pages of them.
Never interrupt.
Never disagree.
Never leave the estate without permission.
Never speak about family matters.
Never lock your bedroom door.
Never ask questions.
Never cry where guests can see you.
She knew those rules by heart.
The rules Dante had just spoken felt... impossible.
Later that morning, Rosa found Aria wandering through the greenhouse.
Hundreds of orchids bloomed beneath the glass ceiling.
Drops of rain clung to the windows like tiny crystals.
"They're beautiful."
Rosa smiled.
"Mr. Rossi's mother planted most of them."
Aria carefully touched the edge of a white orchid.
"I've never seen so many flowers."
"You had gardens."
"We weren't allowed to walk through them."
Rosa stopped pruning a rose bush.
"Not allowed?"
"They were for appearances."
Not people.
The sentence remained unspoken.
It didn't need to be.
The greenhouse door opened.
Dante stepped inside.
His suit jacket rested over one shoulder, his sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms.
He had just returned from a meeting downtown.
Seeing Aria, he paused.
"I hope I'm not interrupting."
She shook her head.
"No."
Rosa quietly excused herself, leaving them alone among the flowers.
Neither spoke immediately.
Finally Dante nodded toward the orchids.
"My mother believed flowers grew better when people talked to them."
Aria looked surprised.
"Did you believe her?"
"No."
"And now?"
He glanced toward a blooming white lily.
"I'm not sure."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
It disappeared almost immediately.
But Dante noticed.
It was the first genuine smile he had seen.
"You looked happier."
The words escaped before he could stop them.
Aria's shoulders stiffened.
"I'm sorry."
He sighed quietly.
"You don't have to apologize every time you feel something."
"I know."
"You just did."
She looked embarrassed.
"I didn't realize."
"You apologize when someone enters a room."
She looked down.
"You apologize when you ask for tea."
Silence.
"You apologized because you smiled."
Another silence.
Finally she whispered,
"I was taught it was safer."
Those words stayed with Dante long after he left the greenhouse.
Safer.
Not polite.
Not respectful.
Safer.
Everything she did was built around survival.
Not comfort.
Not happiness.
Survival.
That afternoon, Sophia returned with another report.
"We found Emily."
Dante immediately stood.
"Alive?"
Sophia hesitated.
"Yes."
Relief came for only a second.
"She's in intensive care."
His expression darkened.
"What happened?"
"Official report says she fell down a staircase."
Dante didn't respond.
Neither did Sophia.
Both knew exactly what that meant.
Another accident.
Another convenient lie.
"We got there before anyone could move her."
Sophia slid several photographs across the desk.
Emily's wrists.
Deep bruising.
Her shoulders.
Fresh injuries.
Her face.
A split lip.
Dante's jaw tightened.
"Did she say anything?"
"Only one sentence before surgery."
"What was it?"
Sophia looked directly at him.
"Tell Mrs. Rossi..."
A pause.
"...it wasn't her fault."
Across town, Aria sat alone in the library.
A novel lay open in her lap.
She hadn't turned a page in twenty minutes.
Her thoughts refused to settle.
She kept remembering Emily's frightened eyes.
They're watching.
Watching whom?
Her?
Dante?
Both?
The library door opened quietly.
Dante stepped inside.
She immediately closed the book.
"You don't have to."
"I wasn't really reading."
"I know."
He sat across from her instead of beside her.
Leaving enough space that she wouldn't feel trapped.
"There was an incident."
Her breathing changed.
"Emily?"
He nodded.
"She's alive."
Tears immediately filled Aria's eyes.
"My father..."
She couldn't finish.
Dante didn't interrupt.
"He hurt her."
"I know."
"Because she spoke to me."
"No."
She looked at him.
"He hurt her because he chose to."
The distinction mattered.
More than she realized.
"It keeps happening."
Her voice cracked.
"People get hurt because of me."
Dante leaned forward slightly.
"They get hurt because someone else decides to hurt them."
"But if I hadn't—"
"No."
His tone remained firm.
"That responsibility belongs to the person causing the harm."
She looked unconvinced.
Years of blame couldn't disappear in a single conversation.
But perhaps...
A crack had formed.
That evening, Rossi Manor hosted its weekly family dinner.
Unlike formal banquets, only close relatives attended.
Marco.
Luca.
Rosa.
Several elderly family advisors.
Aria hesitated outside the dining room.
Crowds still unsettled her.
Dante noticed.
"You don't have to stay."
"They'll think I'm rude."
"They'll survive."
Before she could answer, Marco called from inside.
"Our mysterious bride finally joins us."
His grin carried just enough mockery to sting.
Aria instinctively stepped backward.
Dante saw it.
He looked at Marco.
"Apologize."
The room fell silent.
Marco laughed.
"Seriously?"
"Now."
The smile vanished from Marco's face.
For a long moment, neither man moved.
Finally Marco exhaled sharply.
"My mistake."
He looked toward Aria.
"I'm sorry."
It wasn't warm.
It wasn't sincere.
But it happened.
And everyone at the table noticed.
No one had ever seen Dante correct family in front of outsiders.
Until tonight.
Dinner passed quietly.
Conversation drifted between business and politics.
Aria mostly listened.
Occasionally Rosa included her with gentle questions about books and painting.
For the first time in years, no one interrupted her answer.
Halfway through dessert, one of the older advisors chuckled.
"Mrs. Rossi barely speaks."
Before Aria could apologize, Dante answered calmly.
"She speaks when she has something worth saying."
The advisor wisely changed the subject.
Later that night, thunder rolled across the estate.
A sudden crack of lightning illuminated the bedroom.
The next instant—
The lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Aria's entire body froze.
No.
Not again.
Not the dark.
Her breathing became ragged.
The silence around her shifted into something older.
Something familiar.
A locked room.
No windows.
Her father's voice beyond the door.
"You'll stay here until you learn obedience."
She couldn't breathe.
She stumbled backward.
Her hand struck the bedside table.
A vase shattered against the floor.
Glass exploded across the carpet.
Outside the bedroom, Dante heard the crash.
He reached the door within seconds.
"Aria?"
No answer.
Another sharp breath.
Then a muffled sob.
He raised his hand—
And stopped.
He remembered.
He would not enter without permission.
"Aria."
His voice remained steady.
"The power is out across the estate."
Silence.
"The electricians are fixing it."
Still nothing.
"I'm outside."
A broken whisper finally reached him.
"I..."
Another shaky breath.
"I can't..."
He understood.
"You don't have to open the door."
He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor outside her room.
"I'm staying here."
No response.
Minutes passed.
Rain hammered the windows.
The hallway remained dark except for a single emergency lantern.
Finally, from the other side of the door, came the quiet sound of someone sitting down.
Only a few inches separated them.
A wooden door between two people carrying very different scars.
Neither spoke.
Neither slept.
Eventually Aria whispered through the darkness,
"Are you still there?"
"Yes."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
Another long silence.
Then she asked the question so softly he almost didn't hear it.
"Why?"
Dante looked at the closed door.
Because no one had ever stayed for her.
No one had ever waited.
No one had ever chosen patience over control.
His answer was simple.
"Because no one should be afraid alone."
On the other side of the door, Aria closed her eyes.
For the first time in years...
She cried without trying to hide the sound.
And Dante remained exactly where he was.
Not because he knew how to fix what had been broken.
But because he understood something even more important.
Some wounds didn't need immediate answers.
They needed someone who refused to walk away.
Far beyond the walls of Rossi Manor, another pair of eyes watched the estate through the lens of a high-powered camera.
A photograph was taken.
Then another.
The images were sent to a single encrypted number.
One message followed.
"She's beginning to trust him."
The reply came less than thirty seconds later.
Only four words.
May you like
"Then break her again."
End of Chapter 5
