Under the Same Spotlight

Morning did not ease its way into the De Luca estate. It arrived fully formed, bright and unforgiving, spilling through the tall windows like an intrusion. I lay still for a while, listening to the house wake around me. Soft footsteps passed my door. Somewhere far away, a door closed. The estate never truly slept; it only waited.

When I finally sat up, my body felt heavier than it should have. Not just from the pregnancy, but from the weight of knowing that today would not belong to me. I had learnt that time here was measured in Lorenzo’s plans, not my comfort.

A knock came, sharp and precise.

“Come in,” I said, already bracing myself.

Mrs. Gable entered with her usual rigid posture, followed by two women I hadn’t seen before. They carried garment bags and boxes, their faces polite but distant, like this was just another task on a long list.

“You have an engagement this afternoon,” Mrs. Gable said. “You will need to be ready in one hour.”

“What kind of engagement?” I asked, though I already suspected the answer.

“A public one.”

The words tightened something in my chest. “Lorenzo didn’t mention that.”

“He rarely explains,” she replied. “Please stand.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to say no, to demand time or answers or space. But experience had already taught me that resistance here didn’t look like shouting. It looked like patience. Survival.

They dressed me carefully and efficiently. The dress was soft and pale, loose enough around my waist to hide what the world wasn’t supposed to question yet, but elegant enough to invite attention. My hair was brushed and pinned back. Makeup was applied lightly, just enough to smooth away the shadows beneath my eyes.

When I looked at myself in the mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back. She looked calm. Composed. Someone who belonged in places like this.

I didn’t feel like her.

Lorenzo was waiting in the main hall when I came downstairs. He stood near the foot of the staircase, dressed in a dark suit that fit him like it had been built around his body. He turned when he heard me approach, his gaze slow and assessing.

“You’re ready,” he said.

“I didn’t know I had a choice,” I replied.

“You do,” he said calmly. “You can choose to make this difficult. Or you can choose to be smart.”

I met his eyes. “And being smart means standing beside you and smiling?”

“It means understanding the position you’re in,” he said. “And the protection that comes with it.”

Protection. The word sounded hollow.

The drive into the city passed in silence. I watched the streets blur past the window, people walking freely, unaware of how quickly that freedom could shrink. My hand rested over my stomach, my thumb tracing slow circles as if I could soothe both of us at once.

When the car stopped, the noise hit me first. Voices. Cameras. The sharp crack of flashes against glass.

My breath caught. “There’s press.”

“Yes,” Lorenzo said, as if this were a minor detail. “They were expected.”

“I wasn’t.”

He turned to me then, his expression firm. “This is part of it, Isabella. People ask fewer questions when they think they already have answers.”

The door opened before I could respond. Sound rushed in, loud and overwhelming. Lorenzo stepped out first, then turned back toward me, his hand extended. It was a public gesture, deliberate and unmistakable.

I hesitated for a heartbeat before placing my hand in his. His fingers closed around mine, warm and unyielding.

The cameras erupted.

“Mr. De Luca! Who is she?”

“Is this your wife?”

“When did you marry?”

Lorenzo’s arm settled around my back, guiding me forward as if we had done this a thousand times. “This is my wife, Isabella,” he said evenly. “Please respect her privacy.”

Privacy. The word felt almost cruel in that moment.

Inside the venue, the noise softened into polite conversation and soft music, but the tension didn’t fade. Eyes followed us everywhere. Some are curious. Some calculating. Some are openly judgemental.

I smiled when spoken to. Nodded when introduced. I learnt quickly that people here didn’t ask how I was; they asked who I was to Lorenzo.

A woman in an expensive dress leaned toward me during a brief pause in conversation. “You’re a surprise,” she said with a tight smile. “Lorenzo doesn’t usually share his life.”

“I’m learning that,” I replied.

Across the room, I caught sight of Sofia. She stood near the balcony, surrounded by familiar faces, her posture flawless. When our eyes met, her smile didn’t reach them.

Lorenzo leaned in close. “Ignore her.”

“I wasn’t looking,” I said, though we both knew it wasn’t true.

The event dragged on. Speech followed speech. Applause came and went. My feet ached, and my head throbbed from the constant awareness of being watched. Through it all, Lorenzo remained composed, his hand occasionally resting at my back, a silent reminder to stay in place.

When it was finally over, relief washed through me so suddenly it left me dizzy. The car doors closed, shutting out the noise, and the silence inside felt almost shocking.

“You handled yourself well,” Lorenzo said after a moment.

“I didn’t know I was being tested.”

“You always are,” he replied.

Back at the estate, I retreated to my room as soon as I could. The quiet wrapped around me, heavy but familiar now. I kicked off my shoes and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my hands as they trembled.

I had stood beside him in public. Let the world see me as his wife. And in doing so, I had stepped into a role that could not be undone easily.

Later that night, a knock came at my door. Lorenzo stood there, his expression more guarded than usual.

“You should know,” he said, “there will be more events like this.”

I looked up at him. “And what happens when I say no?”

His gaze held mine. “You won’t. Because you understand what’s at stake.”

He turned and left before I could answer.

Alone again, I lay back on the bed, one hand resting over my stomach. The house felt closer now, as if it had shifted around me, tightening its hold.

But beneath the fear, beneath the exhaustion, something else stirred. A quiet resolve. I had survived today. I had learnt the rules of this new world, even if I hadn’t agreed to them.

And one day, I would find a way to bend them.

For now, I closed my eyes and listened to the steady rhythm of my own breathing, letting it remind me that I was still here. Still thinking. Still fighting.

And this was only the beginning.