Chapter 03:

Amara’s POV

Emma had come in earlier after I was asked to call someone to bail me out. She was the only one I could think of besides Nonna.

Seeing me in the cell brought tears to her eyes. She had feared something terrible had happened since I’d gone silent after her call. She gripped the bars and whispered apologies as if it were her fault, and that broke me. I hadn’t wanted to cry in front of all these strangers, but with Emma there, I couldn’t hold it back.

A rustle of paper snapped my attention. A folded document slid across the table to me.

“Marriage contract,” the stranger said, his voice deep and commanding, as though the walls themselves leaned into listen.

I blinked at the page, then at him. “Marriage contract?” The words scraped out of me, thin and disbelieving.

His eyes didn't waver. Sharp, calculating, like he already knew my answer. “You don't need to think too hard about it.”

It wasn't an offer. It was an order.

Damian, the man who hovered just behind him, didn't speak. But the way he crossed his arms and stood like a shadow reminded me that this stranger wasn't alone. He wasn't asking me — he was concerning me.

His stare pinned me in place, dark and unreadable. It reminded me, oddly, of Nonna’s gaze when she’d scold me as a child: unblinking, absolute, as though she already knew what I was going to do.

Maybe….maybe it wasn't terrible. I had always dreamed of a better life for Nonna, for her to eat well, to be treated with dignity. Maybe this could be the way. But how could I tie myself to a man I didn't even know?

“Still thinking?” His voice cut through my thoughts, sharp as a blade.

His gaze didn't waver, sharp and unreadable. “If it’s your grandmother you’re worried about...” he said slowly, each word deliberate, “don't. She will have everything she needs. Doctors, medicine, and a comfortable home. I take care of what belongs to me.”

How did he know about Nonna? My pulse spikes. Had he already searched through my life like a book?

The way he said it made my throat dry. He wasn't offering reassurance. He was saying ownership of her, of me, of my Nonna’s wellbeing.

And then, not only does Nonna need reassurance. Instinctively, my hand drifted to my stomach. His eyes followed the movement, hawk-like. My skin prickled under that stare, and I snatched my hand back to my thigh as though burned.

My baby.

The air seemed thinner. My baby’s father had already rejected us. If I refused now…. What future would I give this child?

My chest tightened, my hand shook as I reached out.

Damian’s lips twitched into the faintest smile, like he knew the end of a play before the curtain had even fallen.

Emma’s muffled sob reached me through the bars.

I wrapped my fingers around the pen.