Chapter 1

My twin sister, Bianca, had been born with a love of freedom. I, on the other hand, had been raised from childhood to become the most proper daughter a powerful family could produce.

When we turned twenty, the Moretti family sent us a marriage contract. Bianca was supposed to be the bride. But our father said her wild nature would eventually jeopardize the alliance between the two families, so he crossed out her name and replaced it with mine.

The elders on both sides approved the change. I had no power to refuse. All I wanted was to be reckless once before my wedding, so I put on a red dress Bianca had left behind and went to the most famous underground club in the city.

When I woke the next morning, I was lying beside a man I did not know.

He held me in his arms and called me by my sister's name.

That was how I learned he was Lorenzo Moretti, heir to the Moretti family and the man who had originally been promised to Bianca. The moment he discovered I was the younger twin, his expression turned cold.

“So even the Carusos' most respectable daughter is no better than this.”

He mocked me, but he did not cancel the marriage.

In the five years that followed, Lorenzo never spent a night away from home. He kept no mistress and entertained no lovers. He remembered that I was always cold, that coffee kept me awake, and that lemon crackers were the only food I could tolerate during morning sickness. After I became pregnant, he even quit the cigarettes he had smoked for years. At night, his hand would instinctively settle over my belly as he slept.

I thought that even if we'd ended up together by mistake, we could still build a happy life.

Then Bianca ended one of her long journeys and came to visit me on Moretti territory.

I went to the estate terrace early that morning to wait for her, only to overhear Lorenzo speaking with one of his men.

“Sir, if you knew the Carusos had changed the bride, why didn't you refuse the marriage?”

Lorenzo was silent for a moment.

“Bianca was never meant to be trapped by a marriage or a family. She belongs to open roads, the coast, and every place I could never make her stay.”

His man hesitated before saying, “But the love you've shown your wife these past five years wasn't an act. And now she's carrying your first child.”

Lorenzo answered calmly, “They have the same face. Maybe I only gave Isabel everything I could never give Bianca.”

So that was the truth.

He had left freedom to my sister and kept me inside an estate I could never escape.

Was freedom really as sweet as it seemed?

I wanted a taste of it, too.

...

I stood in the sheltered corner of the terrace for a long time.

Lorenzo waited at the railing, the wind lifting the hem of his black overcoat. His eyes never left the road leading to the estate. He did not notice me until Claire, the housekeeper, hurried over.

“Mrs. Moretti, why did you come outside alone?” She caught my arm, her voice anxious. “This is your first pregnancy, and you're already seven months along. Mr. Moretti told us to be especially careful. If anything happened to you, how could I ever answer to him?”

Only then did Lorenzo turn around.

His gaze dropped first to the thin soles of my shoes, and his brows immediately drew together.

“Why would you come out dressed like this?”

He removed his gloves, pressed his hand warmer into my palm, then told Claire to bring me a shawl.

I rested a hand over the curve of my belly. “I heard Bianca was arriving today.”

He gave a quiet acknowledgment and fastened the shawl around me himself. Then he turned back toward the road without another question.

Before long, a bright red sports car tore through the estate gates and came to a clean, dramatic stop at the foot of the steps.

Lorenzo's eyes lit up. He left the terrace at once.

Bianca pushed open the door and removed her sunglasses. “Does Mr. Moretti control how other people park now?”

He closed the car door for her. “No one has ever been able to control you.”

There was an indulgence in his voice that I had never heard during our five years of marriage.

Then he took out a black access card and handed it to her.

“The Moretti garages, docks, clubs, and safe houses will all let you through. Go wherever you want. You don't need to report to me.”

I froze where I stood.

During our second year of marriage, I had asked him only once to drive with me along the coast. He said Mrs. Moretti could not expose her movements so casually. Later, he had a glass conservatory built on the top floor of the estate, complete with projected waves and speakers that played the sound of the tide.

To him, Bianca deserved the entire coastline.

I only needed an imitation sea.

Bianca spun the black card between her fingers, then slipped it neatly into her pocket.

“Thanks.”

The next moment, she noticed me. The recklessness on her face instantly softened into delight.

“Isabel!”

She ran over and wrapped her arms around me, then quickly loosened her hold, afraid of pressing against my belly.

“I've missed you so much.”

I went rigid for half a second before smiling and embracing her in return.

She smelled of leather, gasoline, and sea wind, nothing like the heavy wood fragrance that had lingered throughout the Moretti estate for years. For that brief moment, warmth rose in my chest despite everything.

That evening, Bianca wanted to visit an underground club near the harbor.

Lorenzo glanced at my belly. “You should stay home. The club will be crowded, and the air is terrible.”

“I could go by car,” I said softly. “I would only stay in one of the private rooms upstairs.”

He smiled as if soothing an unreasonable child.

“This is your first pregnancy, and you still want to put yourself through that?”

His words were scolding, but his hand had already moved to my lower back, massaging the ache that came whenever I stood too long.

“After the baby is born, I'll take you there myself.”

Lorenzo always had a future promise ready.

After the morning sickness passed. After the pregnancy was stable. After the family negotiations ended. Now, after the baby was born.

Bianca heard something wrong in his answer and frowned.

“If she wants to come, she can sit with me somewhere quiet. Or I won't go either.”

I shook my head. “You just got back. Go and have fun. I'm tired anyway.”

Lorenzo answered her coolly, “You don't understand the rules here. She's Mrs. Moretti. She can't behave the way you do.”

I watched them leave together.

Before he went, Lorenzo still instructed Claire to send dinner to my room. He also left the private doctor's number on my bedside table.

I waited until three in the morning, but he did not come home.

Claire brought me a glass of milk that had already been reheated twice.

“Madam, please stop waiting. You need to rest.”

I took a sip. The milk was warm, but it turned bitter in my stomach.

Outside my window, the false sea inside the glass conservatory repeated the same stretch of recorded surf over and over. There was no wind and no real tide.

It was exactly like the five years I had spent trapped inside the Moretti estate.