Chapter 2

A full two days later, Luca finally returned.

He pushed open the apartment door, followed by two bodyguards carrying luggage.

“I’m back.”

He loosened his collar, walked over, and bent to kiss my forehead. “Did you miss me, Chloe?”

I sat on the sofa and didn’t answer.

He turned, took a small box from one of the accompanying gift boxes, and placed it in front of me.

“For you.”

Inside was a bottle of seaweed-scented aromatherapy.

I looked at the label, and my fingertips paused.

“What’s wrong?”

Luca undid his cufflinks and glanced at the box casually.

“Vera said this brand smells nice, so I brought a bottle back. You can put it in the bedroom.”

I am allergic to seaweed extracts.

Three years ago, I had used a skincare product containing that ingredient once, and my face quickly broke out in large red rashes.

That night Luca had personally called a private doctor and stayed with me until dawn.

The next day, he had ordered every product containing that ingredient cleared from the estate.

He had held my hand and seriously promised that he would never let me come into contact with those things again.

Yet now, he had even forgotten the words he himself had spoken.

I closed the box.

“Thank you.”

Luca seemed to find my reaction cold and was about to speak when the butler brought in a black gift box.

He took it, carefully inspected the packaging, then placed it back in the drawer beside the safe.

“This is for Vera. She’s attending a charity gala next week, so I had this handmade pearl hair clip specially made for her.”

I looked at him.

“She asked you to buy it?”

“She just mentioned it casually once.”

Luca spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Since she likes it, I’ll give it to her.”

I lowered my gaze to the aromatherapy bottle in front of me and suddenly lost all desire to speak.

He could remember something Vera had mentioned offhand, yet forget what I couldn’t touch.

That evening, his mother, Mrs. Moretti called.

“Chloe, have you finished organizing the guest list for the wedding?”

“Not yet.”

“Why haven’t you finished it yet? Vera came to the estate today to discuss the banquet arrangements with me and has already gone through the list and seating for you. She said some family seating can’t be disordered, or people will laugh.”

I gripped the phone and paused.

“Madam, that is my wedding.”

“I know.” Her tone was flat. “But you’re about to marry into the Moretti family. You can’t only consider your own preferences. Vera has grown up in these occasions and understands the rules better than you.”

Luca came out of the study and heard the last sentence.

“Whose call is that?”

“Your mother’s.”

I put it on speaker.

Mrs. Moretti continued: “And the wedding dress—I’ve already had someone rearrange it. The one you chose earlier wasn’t flattering. Vera helped pick a new one. I’ll send it to you to look at.”

Soon a picture arrived.

The dress I had originally chosen was one with special meaning. A simple satin gown with no excess decoration, only a row of tiny pearls at the waist.

The one Vera had chosen was a crystal-encrusted trailing gown with layers of skirt spreading out, as magnificent as if prepared for a princess in a fairy tale.

Luca glanced at it and nodded. “This one is nice, better suits your status than the previous one.”

I looked up at him.

“Have you seen the one I chose?”

He hesitated. “I have.”

“What did you think of it?”

He thought for a moment.

“It was fine too, but Vera’s is still better-looking.”

I suddenly smiled.

It seemed he had long forgotten that the dress was one he had personally designed for me five years ago.

He had held my hand and drawn it stroke by stroke, telling me that on our wedding day he must watch me put on that dress and walk toward him.

But the moment Vera appeared, it seemed only she remained in his eyes.

On the other end of the line, Mrs. Moretti was still instructing.

“Chloe, getting married isn’t children’s play. You’ll still have a lot to learn. With Vera helping you, you should be grateful to her…”

I hung up directly.

Luca’s expression darkened.

“Chloe, what are you doing?”

“I don’t want to keep listening.”

“My mother is also doing this for the sake of the wedding.”

“And you?” I looked at him. “Luca, have you ever thought about what kind of wedding I want?”

He frowned.

“What’s wrong with you lately? Vera is just helping. Do you have to make an issue out of even this?”

It was the same as always.

The moment Vera was mentioned, my disappointment became nitpicking, and my concern became immaturity.

I looked at him and suddenly felt exhausted.

I didn’t argue further.

He thought I was throwing a tantrum.

Just like every time in the past, as long as he coaxed me a little, I would actively yield.

But this time, I no longer wanted to.

Luca picked up the aromatherapy from the table and casually handed it to the butler.

“Put it in the bedroom.”

I finally spoke.

“Take it away.”

He turned.

“Why?”

“Because I’m allergic to seaweed extracts.”

Luca’s movement froze.

I watched his expression gradually stiffen and didn’t wait for his explanation before standing and returning to the room.

In two days I would leave Sicily.

And Luca Moretti still didn’t know that the wedding he thought could be postponed again and again no longer had any chance of being rescheduled.