CHAPTER FOUR : BECOMING HIS WIFE.

Isabella read the notice three times before the words finally made sense.

Seven days.

In seven days, she was expected to marry Alessandro Moretti, the man whose name alone could silence an entire room. Her fingers trembled around the paper, and she had to sit on the edge of the bed before her knees gave way. She had known her father was capable of disappointing her, but she had never imagined he would arrange her marriage without even asking whether she wanted one.

A knock sounded at the door.

Isabella quickly folded the paper and wiped her face, hoping whoever stood outside wouldn't notice her tears. When the door opened, Lorenzo stepped inside, holding a cup of coffee and wearing an expression that suggested he had already heard the news. He stopped when he saw the paper in her hands.

"So, you've seen it."

She stared at him.

"You knew?"

Lorenzo placed the coffee on the table.

"I knew my brother was considering the arrangement."

"Considering it?" Her voice rose before she could stop it. "This says I will marry him in seven days!"

"I can read, Isabella."

She flinched at his tone, and Lorenzo immediately regretted his words. He dragged a hand over his face, then pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. For a few seconds, he seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say.

"Look, I won't pretend this is normal," he began. "But my brother doesn't make decisions without a reason."

"Then what is his reason?"

"I don't know."

Isabella stared at him in disbelief.

"Nobody knows anything in this house."

"That's not entirely true."

"Then tell me what you know."

Lorenzo looked toward the window.

"I know your father owed Alessandro a lot of money. I know he offered you as part of the settlement, and I know my brother accepted the arrangement." He paused before continuing. "What I don't know is why Alessandro wants marriage instead of simply collecting the debt."

Isabella's eyes filled again.

"Maybe because he wants to make sure I can never escape him."

Lorenzo's expression changed.

"Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true, isn't it?"

"No." His voice became firm. "My brother is many things, Isabella, but you shouldn't assume you understand him before you've even spoken to him properly."

She looked down at the paper.

"He doesn't need to explain himself. Everyone here does whatever he says."

"That is how things work in this family."

"And what happens to people who refuse?"

Lorenzo didn't answer immediately.

His silence frightened her more than any warning could have.

Isabella placed the notice on the bed and covered her face with both hands. She had spent her entire life obeying people who treated her as though her feelings didn't matter, and now she was being pushed into a marriage with a man who had barely spoken to her. She wanted to scream, but she was afraid someone would hear and accuse her of being ungrateful.

"I don't want to marry him," she whispered.

Lorenzo had no answer.

He stood, adjusted his jacket, and headed toward the door. Before leaving, he turned back to look at her.

"Alessandro expects you in his study at nine tomorrow morning. Don't be late."

The door closed behind him.

Isabella stared at the notice again, then slowly folded it and placed it inside the drawer beside her bed. She couldn't change the wedding date, and she couldn't make her father take back his decision, but she could at least try to understand what Alessandro wanted from her. It was the only thing she could do while she waited for the life she knew to disappear completely.

That night, she prayed until her voice became a whisper.

She prayed for courage, for protection, and for a way out of the nightmare her father had created. When sleep finally came, it brought no peace, because she dreamed of standing before a church filled with strangers while Alessandro waited at the altar with a cold smile. In the dream, she tried to run, but every door she opened led back to him

The possibility of escape was real.

But so were the questions she couldn't answer.

Where would she go? How would she support herself? Would her father welcome her back, or would Claudia make every day unbearable again? And if she returned, would she simply be placing herself back into the same situation she had spent years enduring?

She hated that those questions mattered.

She hated even more that the answers did not make her decision easy.

That night, she barely slept. She thought about the wedding, the agreement, her father's face when he had refused her, and the way Alessandro had ordered Roberto to release her wrist when he saw him gripping it.

It had been a small moment, but she remembered it clearly.

Alessandro had not comforted her afterward. He had not promised to protect her or pretended that he was a good man. He had simply stopped Roberto from hurting her in front of him.

Perhaps that was the problem with the Morettis. They were not gentle in the way she understood gentleness, but they were not behaving like the people who had raised her, either.

She could not predict what the next twelve months would bring.

But she could decide how she would enter them.

Not as a girl begging her father to choose her.

Not as a debt that had been transferred from one man to another.

If she stayed, she would stay with her eyes open.

At half past eleven, Isabella woke with a dry throat.

She reached for the glass of water beside her bed and found it empty. After considering calling Maria, she slipped on her night slippers and stepped into the corridor.

The mansion was quiet.

Most of the lights had been switched off, leaving only the soft golden glow of the wall lamps. Isabella descended the staircase carefully, one hand resting on the banister, and made her way toward the kitchen.

She had almost reached it when the front door opened.

Two male voices drifted in from the entrance hall, followed by the heavy sound of footsteps.

Isabella stopped.

A moment later, Alessandro entered the corridor, removing his black jacket as he spoke to Marco. His white shirt was open at the collar, and his sleeves were rolled to his forearms. There was a faint streak of blood on one cuff.

Marco noticed Isabella first.

"Signorina Rossi."

Alessandro turned.looking at the figure of the scared lady in a petite night gown. 

For a moment, none of them spoke.

Isabella glanced at the stain on his sleeve, then at his face. She had never seen him this late at night, freshly returned from wherever he went when he disappeared behind the gates of the mansion.

"Why are you awake?" he asked.

"I came for water."

Alessandro walked towards her, his eyes washing over her, from her head to her toe then up again. His eyes rested at her cleavage and then to her firm and pointy breast, perfect for this body. 

He moved closer with his body almost pressed against her. He held her closer by the waist, Isabella stiffened. He leaned his mouth forward and brushed his lips against hers. Alessandro trailed her neck with his lips and she could feel everything good she didn't want to admit she felt. She also caught the scent of alcohol in his breath.

 “Of course he was drunk, why else would he want me ” she thought. 

Alessandro held her hair and took in a deep breath. 

God she smells so good. 

His gaze moved briefly toward the kitchen.

"Then get your water."

She started to move, but his next words stopped her.

"Did you read the notice?" 

"Yes."

"And?"

"And I have questions."

Marco looked between them. Alessandro, however, seemed neither surprised nor particularly interested.

"Ask them."

Isabella glanced at Marco.

Alessandro noticed. "Marco, leave us."

His right-hand man nodded and disappeared down the opposite corridor.

Isabella waited until they were alone.

"Why do you want to marry me?"

Alessandro's expression changed almost imperceptibly. He seemed to have expected questions about the wedding, the agreement, or the restrictions she had been given. Perhaps he had not expected her to ask about his reasons.

"Because your father owes me money."

"That explains why you wanted him to pay you. It doesn't explain why you want me as your wife."

He studied her for several seconds.

"Your father was not the only person who owed my family a debt. The Rossi name carries influence in certain circles, even if Roberto has spent most of his reputation and money. There are people who believe my position can be weakened by making me look dependent on alliances with other families."

Isabella frowned. "And marrying me will stop them?"

"Not by itself."

"Then what will it do?"

"Your father approached me with a proposal. He offered you as part of the settlement, believing I would accept a marriage that would bind our families. I had already been considering a marriage that would silence certain people who believe I am vulnerable because I have no wife or family of my own."

He paused.

"Your father's proposal served a purpose. I accepted it."

Isabella absorbed his words slowly.

She looked down at her hands.

"At least you're honest."

"I find honesty more useful than promises."

If she stayed, it would have to be for herself.

Alessandro watched her as she filled a glass with water.

"Have you decided what you're going to do?" he asked.

She drank slowly, giving herself time to think.

"Yes."

"And?"

"I will marry you."

He went very still.

"Why?"

"Because I have considered my options."

"And you believe marrying me is your best one?"

"I believe I have a better chance of building a life here than returning to my father's house. "

She met his eyes.

"I know you didn't choose me for love. I'm not asking you to pretend you did. 

Something shifted in his expression.

It was small, almost invisible, but she saw it.

"I have two rules," she continued.

Alessandro's eyebrows rose.