“No,” he says softly. “You’re worse.”
He walks back to his desk, pulls open a drawer, and sets a folder down. “There’s a clause you’ll sign. No prenup negotiations, no loopholes. You keep her safe, she stays yours. You fail, I’ll bury you.”
I nod. “Fine.”
He looks at me again, something unreadable in his eyes. “And if she refuses?”
“Then I’ll convince her.”
His brow furrows. “You’re confident.”
“I always get what I want.”
That finally cracks something in his expression—just slightly, like he hadn’t expected to hear it.
“Why her?” he asks after a moment. “Out of all the people in the world, why my sister?”
I take a slow breath. “Why did you choose Valentina? Out of all the women that you could’ve chosen, why her?”
Emiliano’s silent. The only sound is the rain and the faint ticking of his watch.
“If I agree, there’s no going back.”
“I know.”
“And you’ll stay out of Folonari business?”
“Yes.”
He studies me for another long second. Then, almost reluctantly, he extends his hand.
“Then we have a deal,” he says.
I take it. His grip’s firm, cold. The kind of handshake that seals more than an agreement—it seals a fate.
When I leave his office, the rain has stopped. The sky’s gray, heavy with the kind of light that never quite turns to sun. I stand there for a moment, breathing it in.
I should feel relief. I don’t. What I feel is weight. Because I know what I’ve just done. I’ve traded power for love. Revenge for redemption.
And if she ever finds out the truth—that I begged her brother for her hand—she’ll never forgive me. But she’ll be safe. And that’s all that matters.
That night,I pour a drink in the library. The house feels empty again. I look at the untouched glass, the amber light catching the surface.
I used to drink to forget. Now I drink to remember. Her laugh. Her stubbornness. The way she’d say my name like it wasn’t a threat. The way she made me forget what I was built for.
I take a sip and let the burn settle in my chest.
Some men fight wars to claim territory. Others to claim power.
Me? I’m fighting to claim peace…even if it kills me.
By the time the deal’s finalized, the Folonaris’ lawyers have everything arranged. Romiro doesn’t ask questions. He just looks at me like he already knows.
“You sure about this?” he asks one night, voice low. “Because if you’re not?—”
“I am.”
He nods once, slowly. “Then I’ll back you.”
