Chapter 3 His Future Wife

Abby's POV

Before Erina could even sputter an answer, my stepmother arrived, dragging my father, George, in her wake.

Josefina's glare was murderous. She looked at me as if I had just personally set fire to the family name. She was furious I'd ruined her big night—her public announcement that she'd successfully shackled me to that... fucker.

Her hand snapped up, aimed straight for my face.

I caught her wrist mid-air.

The hallway went silent. Josefina's eyes widened in pure shock. She looked confused, thrown.

Of course she was. In my past life, I would have flinched. I would have taken the slap. The old Abby, the girl who always said yes to every request, the girl who always obeyed... she was dead.

Josefina ripped her hand from my grip, her face turning purple. "How could you do this to our family?! You are ruining our reputation!"

My father, George, finally sighed from the corner, his voice heavy with disappointment. "You are still going to marry him, Abigail. This... tantrum," he said, "changes nothing."

Just then, the front door burst open. Nicholas stood there, his chest heaving, his perfect suit rumpled. It looked like he'd floored it just to get here. The charming mask was gone, replaced by a furious glare.

"Why," he seethed, "would you do that to me?!"

"I told you," I said, my voice heavy. "I don't want to marry you." I was trying so hard to stay calm, to keep my hands from shaking, but these people... my God, they were getting on my nerves.

"Y-You..." My father clutched his chest, his face turning a blotchy red. He looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.

Nicholas's expression shifted instantly. He saw my father and went into damage-control mode, his voice dropping into that familiar, condescending tone. "Abby, darling, don't say things you'll regret. I don't know what's gotten into you... just tell the press you were overwhelmed, and we can fix this. We can still get married."

I scoffed. They were all staring at me in stunned silence, probably thinking I'd finally gone insane.

"You're right," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "As soon as I walked in, everyone had their verdict ready, blaming me for everything." I let my gaze drift from Nicholas to Erina. "All I did was give you exactly what you wanted. Isn't that enough?"

Nicholas froze.

"I'm calling off the engagement," I announced to the room. "But it's not like you're out of options." I glanced at Erina, who was trying to blend into the wallpaper. "You still have another daughter to sell."

"Abby..." Erina whispered, staring at me in disbelief. The whole room was looking at me like I'd just grown a second head.

"Abby..." Nicholas stepped toward me, his hand outstretched for a false concern.

The moment his fingers brushed my arm, I flinched so hard I stumbled back. No. Never. I would not let that man touch me. He killed me.

I turned to run, to get out of this house, but the front door opened again.

Matteo Romano stood on the threshold, leaning against the doorframe as if he owned it. He took in the scene—my father's rage, my stepmother's fury, Nicholas's shock, and me, poised for flight.

"Wow," he said, his voice a deep, amused drawl. "Seems like I picked a bad time to drop in. Or did I just crash the party?"

What is he doing here? I thought, my heart hammering. He left. I watched him leave.

Matteo's gaze scanned the room and landed directly on me. He must have seen the tears welling in my eyes, because he ignored my family—ignored Nicholas completely—and walked straight toward me.

In one smooth motion, he shrugged off his expensive suit coat and draped it over my shoulders. His warmth, and the clean, masculine scent of him, enveloped me.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" he asked, his voice low, meant only for me.

I looked up, stunned, meeting his intense gaze. "What are you doing here?"

"You dropped this." He held out my mother's necklace—the simple gold heirloom I dropped in his car.

A genuine, shaky smile touched my lips. I took it from his hand, its familiar weight a comfort, and slipped it safely into my pocket. "Thank you."

Nicholas exploded.

"Since when?" he spat, his face contorting with rage. "Since when are you and Matteo so close? Is this why you humiliated me?! Have you been cheating on me with him all this time, Abby?!"

I scoffed and turned back to Nicholas. Perfect. He finally had his narrative, his perfect excuse to paint me as the villain. Fine.

"Well, since you're so eager to know," I said, my voice sweet as poison, "I've got to say, Mr. Romano is pretty decent. If you're that desperate to cast yourself as the victim, Nicholas, I'll happily be the villain. For old time's sake."

"What the fuck, Abby!" he roared, fully committing to his outraged performance. "Are you accusing me of cheating? Is that why you chose him?! This is nonsense!"

"Why don't you ask my half-sister?" I said, my voice dropping to a cool, quiet level. I let my gaze slide over to Erina. "Go on, Nicholas. Ask her."

Erina's face flushed a violent, blotchy red. Her eyes were wide with pure panic. "Have you lost your mind, Abby?!" she shrieked. "How could you—"

But before she could finish her lie, my father, George, exploded. He lunged, roaring in incoherent anger, his hand raised to strike me.

He never made contact.

In a movement so fast I barely registered it, Matteo moved. He put himself directly between us, shielding me with his body. He didn't say a word, just stood there—an immovable, dangerous wall protecting me from my own family.

My father jabbed a finger at Matteo's chest. "Move away!" he roared.

Matteo didn't flinch. He just smiled, but that didn't reach his eyes. "Sorry, future father-in-law," he said, his voice a low, smooth drawl that cut right through the shouting. "I can't let you hurt my future wife."