But they don't want that.
They want a wife.
Why?
Lorenzo mentioned their father. Giuseppe Sartori. An old friendship with Papa. But that's not enough to explain this. The Sartoris don't make decisions based on sentiment. They're businessmen. Criminals. Every move they make has a purpose.
So what's the purpose here?
I don't know yet.
But I will.
Because if I'm going to marry into that family, I'm going to understand exactly what I'm walking into. I'm going to know their secrets. Their weaknesses. Their plans.
I'm not just going to be a transaction.
I'm going to be a player.
Mama taught me that. Before she died. Before everything fell apart.
Never let them see you as weak, Antonella. Never let them think you're just a pretty face. You're smarter than all of them. Use it.
I will, Mama.
I promise.
I rise from the couch. My legs are steadier now. My hands have stopped shaking.
Tomorrow, the Sartoris will come back. They'll tell us which brother I'm supposed to marry. They'll lay out their terms.
And I'll smile. I'll agree. I'll play the dutiful daughter selling herself for her family's survival.
But underneath?
Underneath, I'll be watching. Learning. Waiting.
The Sartoris think they're getting a desperate girl with no options.
They're wrong.
The morning light cuts through the living room windows like a blade.
I've been awake since dawn. Showered. Dressed. Put on makeup for the first time in weeks. A simple black dress. Hair down, brushed until it shines.
If I'm going to be sold, I'll at least look like I'm worth the price.
Gianna sits beside me on the couch. She hasn't spoken since breakfast. Her eyes are red-rimmed, puffy. She barely touched her coffee.
Claudio stands by the fireplace. Arms crossed. Jaw tight.
Papa paces near the window. He's tried to make himself presentable. Clean shirt. Shaved. But nothing can hide the tremor in his hands. The way his eyes keep darting to the door.
At exactly eleven o'clock, the doorbell rings.
Voices in the hallway. Then they appear.
Lorenzo Sartori enters first. His dark hair is styled back from his face. He looks like he stepped out of a magazine. Handsome in a way that makes you forget he's dangerous.
