"The problem," Rafe countered, his voice frighteningly controlled, "is that you show up unannounced at my home and expect to be welcomed."
Sophia's eyes flicked to me, a dismissive glance that somehow managed to assess and find wanting every inch of me. "We had hoped to discuss this privately, but since you insist on having your... acquisition... present, so be it."
Acquisition. Like I was a car or a watch or a fucking yacht. I bit the inside of my cheek, tasting blood as I forced myself to remain silent.
"This marriage," Vittorio began, his accent thickening, "is a disaster for our family name. The Hastings are furious. Brandon has threatened to pull his business entirely."
"A shame," Rafe replied, not sounding even remotely troubled.
"A shame?" Sophia's voice rose sharply. "This isn't one of your little rebellions, Rafael. This is the future of Orologio. Your father and I have spent decades building relationships, securing our position—"
"Your position," Rafe corrected. "Not mine."
"Of course yours." Vittorio stepped closer, his height matching Rafe's but his frame somehow more imposing with age and authority. "Everything we've done has been for you."
A short, bitter laugh escaped Rafe. "For me? That's rich, even for you."
I watched the exchange like a tennis match, each volley getting more vicious. The hallway felt charged with resentment, the kind that festers in families where love comes with conditions too heavy to bear.
"You know what I mean." Vittorio's voice dropped dangerously low. "Since Gabriel—"
"Don't." The single word sliced through the air like a blade. Rafe's entire body went rigid, a muscle in his jaw jumping with the force of his clenched teeth. "Don't say his name."
Gabriel. That name again. The one that had made Rafe react so strongly. I filed it away, another piece in the puzzle of the man I'd married.
Sophia seemed to sense the raw nerve they'd touched and pressed harder. "Gabriel would have understood the importance of family legacy. He would never have thrown away an advantageous match for some...woman."
The way she said woman—like it was synonymous with prostitute—made my skin crawl.
"Gabriel would have married that Hastings girl without complaint," she continued. "He was always the responsible one, the one who understood duty."
Something in Rafe's demeanor fractured, a hairline crack in his perfect control. His hands fisted at his sides, and I could see the effort it took for him to keep his voice level. "We're done here."
"We are nowhere near done," Vittorio snapped. "You think this solves anything? Marrying some nobody from nowhere? A girl with no family connections, no money, nothing to contribute to the de Luca name except a pretty face that will fade soon enough?"
I'd grown up hearing similar sentiments—that dance was a frivolous pursuit, that I'd never amount to anything, that being pretty was my only real asset. But hearing it from this cold, calculated man who didn't even know me somehow cut deeper.
"You could at least have chosen someone with breeding," Sophia added, looking me up and down like I was a defective product. "Not some gold-digging opportunist who clearly latched onto you for your money."
That was enough. The wine from dinner, the warmth from Rafe's grandparents, and now the icy contempt from his parents collided in my chest, igniting something fierce and protective.
"Gold-digging?" I stepped forward, my voice far more steady than I felt. "Lady, if I were after money, I'd have picked someone with a better personality."
Sophia's eyes widened in shock, clearly unused to being addressed this way.
"You have no idea who I am," I continued, heat rising in my cheeks. "Or what I want. But I can tell you it's not your approval or your precious family legacy or—"
"Enough." Rafe's hand closed around my upper arm, not painfully but firmly enough to stop my tirade. His eyes, when they met mine, carried a warning I'd be smart to heed.
Turning back to his parents, his voice dropped to a dangerous register that sent shivers down my spine. "You need to leave. Now."
"Rafael—" Sophia began.
"Now." The word left no room for argument. "Or I'll call security and have you escorted out. Imagine how that would look for the de Luca name."
Vittorio's face darkened, but Sophia placed a restraining hand on his arm. "This isn't finished," she said coldly. "When you're done playing house with your little girl, when reality sets in and you realize what you've thrown away—"
"Like I said, we're done." my husband’s voice was pure ice.
