Nico follows. Same cold expression as last night. Same calculating eyes that miss nothing. He's in black, head to toe. It suits him.
Behind them, two men. The same ones from last night.
"Mr. Romano." Lorenzo's voice is pleasant. Warm, even. "Thank you for having us back."
Papa straightens. Squares his shoulders. For a moment, I see a ghost of the man he used to be. Before the gambling. Before Mama died. Before everything fell apart.
"Please," he says. "Sit."
Lorenzo takes the armchair across from me. Nico remains standing, positioning himself near the door. The two men flank the room like sentries.
Papa clears his throat.
"We've discussed your... proposal." His voice wavers, then steadies. He's trying so hard to sound like he still has authority. Like he's negotiating from a position of strength instead of begging for scraps. "My family has reached a decision."
Lorenzo tilts his head. Waiting.
"We agree to your terms." Papa's hands clench at his sides. "The business. The labor arrangement. All of it."
"And the marriage?" Nico's voice cuts through the room.
Papa swallows. His eyes flick to me. Just for a second.
"Yes." The word comes out rough. Broken. "We have an agreement. Antonella will be the one who marries into your family."
Silence.
Lorenzo turns.
His eyes find mine.
I give him nothing.
I keep my spine straight. My chin lifted. My hands folded calmly in my lap.
I've spent four years holding this family together. Dealing with creditors and collectors and men who thought they could intimidate me.
Lorenzo Sartori is not the first powerful man to underestimate me.
He won't be the last.
His gaze travels over my face. My posture. The way I'm dressed. I can almost see him cataloging details, filing them away for later analysis.
I meet his eyes without flinching.
Go ahead, I think.Look all you want. You won't see anything I don't choose to show you.
"Miss Romano." His voice is different now. Softer. More personal. "You understand what's being proposed?"
"I do."
"And you agree to this arrangement willingly?"
The question catches me off guard. I expected demands. Commands. Not... consideration.
"I understand the situation my family is in," I say carefully. "I understand what's required to resolve it."
"That's not what I asked."
