CHAPTER 8:The Family Clause

The Bianchi villa woke up colder than it had gone to sleep.  

Giulia stood at the window of the guest room, watching the Roman sun crawl over cypress trees. She had not slept. The word “tomorrow, 9am” echoed in her head like a sentence.  

Behind her, the dress from last night lay on the chair. Red silk. €4,000. A costume for a lie. She touched the zipper and felt sick.  

A knock. Soft, hesitant.  

“Signorina?” Sofia, the maid, slipped inside with a tray. Espresso. Cornetto. And a black folder. “Signore Bianchi’s lawyer sent this. For you to review before 9am.”  

Giulia took the folder. Her hands did not shake. That was new. Eight years ago, Marco’s voice would’ve made her tremble. Now, it was fear that steadied her. Fear of signing her life away.  

Inside: 12 pages. Legal Italian. Clauses highlighted in yellow.  

_Clause 4.2: In event of divorce within 5 years, spouse forfeits all personal assets to Bianchi Holdings._  

_Clause 7.1: Spouse agrees to non-disclosure of family matters, violations punishable by €10M fine._  

Giulia closed the folder. “She doesn’t have assets,” she whispered. “Just debt. And a brother.”  

Downstairs, Marco was already waiting. No laptop today. No phone. Just him, sitting on the marble stairs in a white shirt, sleeves rolled up. The CEO mask was gone. He looked 19 again. Tired. Guilty.  

He stood when he saw her. “You read it?”  

“I read enough.” Giulia stopped three steps above him. Close enough to see the scar on his jaw. The one she used to kiss. “You want me to sign away my name for a merger?”  

“I want you to not sign it,” Marco said quietly. “That’s why I’m here at 6am. To tell you to say no.”  

Giulia blinked. “But your grandfather said—”  

“My grandfather thinks love is a contract,” Marco cut her off. “He’s wrong. If you sign that, you’re tied to us forever. Even after Day 30. Even after this ends. I won’t do that to you.”  

For a second, Giulia believed him. Then she remembered the €35,000 hospital bill. The way he paid it without asking.  

“You already tied me,” she said. “My mother’s surgery is next week. If I say no now, Signore Bianchi cancels it. Luca loses his scholarship. We lose everything.”  

Marco stepped up one stair. Now they were eye level. “Then let me fix it. I’ll pay the hospital. I’ll fund Luca. You don’t owe us anything, Giulia. Not your name. Not 5 years of your life.”  

“Why?” The word came out broken. “Why protect me if I’m just 30 days to you?”  

He didn’t answer with words. He reached out and brushed her thumb over her knuckles. The same way he used to in university, before exams, when she panicked.  

“Because you were never just 30 days,” he said. “Even then. Even now. Because when I left at 19, I thought I was saving you. But I’ve been drowning for 8 years.”  

Giulia pulled her hand back. “Don’t. We agreed. Day 30. Clean break. No more moments like this.”  

“Agreements break,” Marco said. “People don’t.”  

The clock chimed 8:30am. Footsteps echoed in the hall. Contessa Isabella’s voice drifted from the dining room: “Marco? Is the girl ready?”  

Marco turned toward the sound, jaw tightening. When he looked back at Giulia, his eyes were hard again. CEO Marco. The mask snapped on.  

“We go in there,” he said. “You sit beside me. You say nothing. I’ll handle it.”  

“And if he forces me to sign?”  

“Then I burn the company down before I let him own you.”  

It was said so quietly, so plainly, that Giulia believed it.  

They walked into the dining room together. Signore Bianchi sat at the head of the table, cane resting against the chair. Contessa beside him, lips painted red like blood. The lawyer stood with a pen, the folder open to the last page.  

“Signorina Romano,” Signore Bianchi said. “We’ve waited long enough.”  

Giulia sat. Marco sat beside her, close enough that their thighs touched under the table. He didn’t move away.  

The lawyer slid the pen toward her. “Sign here, per favore.”  

Giulia stared at the line. Her name. Her future. Her brother’s job. Her mother’s surgery. All of it balanced on one signature.  

Her hand hovered over the paper.  

“Don’t,” Marco said, low enough that only she heard.  

Signore Bianchi’s eyes narrowed. “What was that, nipote?”  

“Nothing,” Marco said, louder. “She was going to sign. Weren’t you, Giulia?”  

It wasn’t a question. It was a plea.  

Giulia looked at the pen. Then at Marco. Then at the old man who held her family’s fate in his hands.  

She picked up the pen.  

And signed.  

But not her name.  

She wrote: _Giulia Romano Bianchi._  

The room went silent.  

Contessa smiled. Signore Bianchi nodded once, satisfied. The lawyer stamped the page.  

Marco didn’t breathe.  

Giulia set the pen down and met his eyes. Her voice was steady. “There. Now I’m your wife on paper. Marco. Let’s see if you still want me when the contract ends.”  

She stood, legs shaking, and walked out of the room before he could answer.  

Outside, the Roman sky was too bright. Too blue. Giulia pressed her back against the stone wall and slid to the ground.  

She had just signed herself into a family that would destroy her.  

And the worst part was, for 3 seconds when Marco said “don’t,” she wanted to obey him.  

But after Day 30, the real fight would begin. Because Giulia Romano Bianchi didn’t walk away. Not