“I swear it,” I said, quieter now but fierce. “On the last name you think Ibelongto.”
For a moment, something flickered in his expression. Doubt. Then it vanished. “It doesn’t matter.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s true,” he said. The room tilted. “What matters is that he said it. He’s Moretti. Your word means nothing against his.”
A hollow ringing filled my ears. “You’re choosing to believe him?”
“I’m choosing reality,” Papa shrugged. “Which is you’re ruined. Ruined, unless I suck it up and give you to him, to save what’s left of your reputation.”
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “You’re choosing him over me. You’re choosing lies over truth. And for what? Because it’s fucking easier to just hand me over?”
His eyes went cold. “Watch yourself.”
“You’re selling me,” I said, the realization crashing in, hot and suffocating. “Because that man lied. Because it’s easier than standing up to him.”
“He is not a man you stand up to,” Papa said, low and final. “Moretti orders are to be followed. You will marry him, and I better see some gratitude out of you if youeverwant to see your family again. Gratitude, and complete, utter obedience.”
“Then maybe you should have raised me differently,” I shot back. “Because I won’t just lie down and take it.”
His hand lifted fast, but stopped just short of my face. The restraint was worse than the strike.
“You will do exactly what is required of you,” he said. “Because whether you like it or not… you are already ruined.”
The word sliced deep.
“I’m not ruined,” I said, my voice shaking but unbroken. “He doesn’t get to decide that. Nor do you.”
Papa leaned closer, his shadow swallowing me.
“He already did. What respectable man would want you after this?” he hissed. “Who would marry a ruined woman? Nobody will want you. He made sure of that.”
Silence fell between us. Heavy. Final.
My throat tightened. “Where is he?”
He held my gaze, letting the question sit. Letting it sink in.
“You’ll meet your husband shortly,” Papa said.
Ice crawled through my veins. Everything inside me dropped. My breath hitched, sharp and broken, as memory slammed into me. Dark eyes behind a mask, blood on his mouth, his voice in the dark.
Our little secret.
And now the whole world was about to know.
Chapter Three: LEO
TheVenturasmademewait. Not long. No one with sense would makemewait long. Still, it was long enough to remind me I was stepping into another man’s house.
Not that it mattered. By the time Ventura’s study doors opened, every person in that mansion already knew who owned who now.
I stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.
Lorenzo Ventura stiffened behind his desk, jaw tight, eyes calculating. He masked it well. Most men did, when they realized they were outmatched.
But I wasn’t looking at him. I was looking at his daughter.
