She rolls her eyes. “Where he played you like a fiddle to get you to bend to his will.”
“No…” I protest, but all at once, I’m suddenly not so sure.
He’d been getting on me for years, telling me I needed an heir. Could he have taken matters into his own hands?
“How is your pretty little wife?” Maria asks.
“She’s fine,” I snap.
“Mother’s worried you’ll lose everything.”
“Yes, because Granddad is sick and she would hate for my inheritance to be split between you and my cousins.”
“No. It’s because she hasn’t figured out Granddad’s ruse.”
“You’re mistaken!”
“He was laughing about it after you left your wedding.”
I turn away, my hands clenched into fists, trying to make sense of the situation.
I haven’t always gotten along with my sister, but when it comes to the matter of inheritance, we’re thick as thieves, because we know what we’re up against.
Isabella is a force within the Rossi family, because she works so hard to please Granddad. She didn’t even like her husband, but married him straight after Granddad introduced them, hoping to win his approval.
Which she did.
“I have to go now. I just wanted to run my situation by you and see what you thought. Say hello to your pretty little wife for me.”
She leaves without another word, and I’m left utterly dumbfounded, unsure of what to believe.
Could Granddad have faked a heart attack and cancer to get me to marry? I want to say it’s absurd. But I know my granddad, and what he wants, he gets.
And because of his antics, I’m now married to a woman who wants nothing more than to kill me.
I could confront him now and call off the whole thing. But if he knew the truth, he’d kill Ivy, because while he wasn’t as brutal as my father, he did what had to be done.
And with my wife’s demise and her secrets revealed, I’ll get my inheritance ahead of Granddad’s death, because he’ll know it was all his fault, and he’ll want to make it up to me. I won’t be forced to marry, and if I never sire a child, I’ll suffer no repercussions.
But for some inexplicable reason, this revelation brings me no joy. I don’t want to see my wife dead, and if she is to suffer, it will be by my hands.
Because my wife belongs to me. Her body, her soul, every moment of the day.
And I refuse to give her up.
FIFTEEN
Ivy
In the earlyhours of the day, I’ve gotten used to being alone. I like not having an overbearing mother to answer to and spending my morning how I choose.
But as time passes, I realize these quiet mornings won’t last forever.
How do I reconcile my life at this point? I’m a ghost, not existing except in the memories of very few.
My entire world is a black prison.
Even my mind.
