Chapter 2

Not long after the study door closed, Matteo sent me a message.

“I’ll take you to City Hall on Monday morning.”

“All right.”

I pulled a suitcase from the dressing room and began packing what I intended to take: my passport, several private documents, and the Venturi family seal hidden beneath my jewelry box.

My aunt had already sent people to New York. I had to leave the townhouse before the Venturi plane arrived the following morning.

In the innermost wardrobe drawer, I found a silk robe that did not belong to me.

The dark blue fabric had been shoved inside in a wrinkled heap. Sofia’s initials were embroidered on one cuff, and a pearl garter from the wedding was tangled around the belt. Dried champagne and her familiar iris perfume clung to the silk.改成我的睡袍被撕坏之类的，说之前女配试了试我再给你买新的

The bedroom door opened.

Matteo saw the robe in my hands, paused, then took it from me calmly.

“One of the bridesmaids probably put it in the wrong room while clearing the bridal suite.”

My fingers were trembling. The rash caused by the sedative had spread to my wrists, and nausea tightened my stomach again.

Matteo mistook my reaction for heartbreak. He touched my hair with unexpected tenderness.

“Isabella, do you know what I like most about you?”

I said nothing.

“You never create trouble.”

He had praised me that way for years.

Quiet. Sensible. Gracious.

To Matteo, those words meant I would not question his decisions, embarrass him before his family, or demand that he choose between Sofia and me.

“Whatever existed between Sofia and me ended years ago,” he said, tossing the robe aside. “Today’s ceremony was only compensation. Once we register the marriage, you will be the wife recognized by the DeLuca family.”

He patted my head as though rewarding an obedient pet.

He had treated me the same way at boarding school.

Everyone believed I was an orphan admitted on a scholarship. Matteo occasionally intervened when the others went too far, but the moment Sofia cried, he left with her. Then the heirs of old families locked me in storage rooms, cut my uniforms, or poured wine over my head.

He never called it bullying. In his world, cruelty among wealthy children was only a joke, and I was expected to endure it.

“Sofia cut her hand while removing the tiara,” he said. “I’m taking her to the private medical center.”

I caught his wrist.

“Can you stay?”

It was the final chance I was willing to give us. Had he stayed for one night, I might still have believed I had once held a place in his heart that truly belonged to me.

Matteo looked surprised, then mildly helpless.

“I promised her.”

He had promised me things too: my first public speech, one evening for my birthday each year.

Every promise had eventually yielded to Sofia’s call.

“All right.”

I released him, but Matteo caught my hand.

“I’ll bring back the dessert you like.”

I had never liked sweets.

“Thank you.”

He did not return that night.

Near midnight, Sofia posted a photograph from the DeLuca family’s private clinic.“Like a rabbit, don’t you think?”

The comments appeared quickly.

“Was she injured on her wedding night?”

“Did Matteo stay with you all night?”

Sofia replied:

“He has always known how to take care of me.”

I closed the page and booked a medical appointment.

By morning, the rash had spread to my neck, and I had scratched thin lines into my skin. The doctor examined me, gave me an injection, and warned me sternly.

“Your reaction to sedatives is serious. You cannot be exposed to them again. Next time, your throat may swell and block your airway.”

“I understand.”

I left with my medication and found Matteo in the lobby.

Sofia had one arm linked through his while he held her other hand. He looked surprised to see me but did not let go.

“What are you doing here?”

“Drug allergy.”

Matteo glanced at the rash on my neck.

“Did the doctor treat it?”

“Yes.”

He nodded without asking how serious it was, then looked down at Sofia’s finger.

“She cut herself removing the tiara. I brought her back to change the dressing.”

The tiny cut had already closed.

Sofia leaned against him with a smile.

“It was your fault for rushing me. That tiara had so many pins.”

Matteo answered indulgently.

“My fault.”

Then he looked at me.

“Go home and rest.”

I turned away.

A few steps later, Sofia spoke behind me.

“Her face and neck are covered in rashes. What if it is contagious? She should have a full examination before next week’s registration.”

“She has been examined before.”

“That was before. I’m thinking about the DeLuca family.”

After a brief silence, Matteo agreed.

“Fine. I’ll send a doctor to the house tomorrow.”

He spoke as though arranging an inspection for something about to enter the DeLuca household.

I did not look back.

My phone vibrated. An encrypted message from Sicily appeared.

The inheritance documents are ready.

The Venturi family plane will arrive in New York tomorrow morning.

I deleted it and kept walking.