Chapter 4

TWO YEARS AGO

It was 3 a.m. when they came for me.

Not even a warning knock. Not even the courtesy of footsteps in the hallway that might have given me time to pretend I wasn’t afraid.

The door slammed open instead.

“Get up.”

Alberto’s voice came first. My fathers Consgliere He wasn't loud like my father. He didn't need to be though.

I sat up so fast the sheets twisted around my legs. He signaled the men standing behind him and they quickly grabbed me on both arms.

“What is this? Let me go.”

I didn’t wait for answers. I didn’t want answers. I swung my legs out of bed and tried to fight them off.

It was pointless.

He caught my wrist like I weighed nothing.

“Don’t make this difficult,” he said, already dragging me out.

“I said let me go!” My voice cracked halfway through.

I kicked once. Twice. It didn’t matter. My feet barely hit the floor before I was being hauled down the corridor like I wasn’t a person with bones and breath and a name.

The house was too quiet for this.

Even the walls felt like they were watching me.

By the time I saw my father at the bottom of the stairs, I already knew I wasn’t being taken somewhere I could argue my way out of.

He didn’t look surprised to see me dragged like that.

That was the part that made my stomach drop first.

“Pull yourself together,” he said flatly. “You’re a Moretti.”

Like that meant something right now.

Like that ever meant anything when it mattered.

They shoved me into the car.

Cold leather. Locked doors. No explanation. Just action.

I pressed my hand against the window as we drove, watching the city blur like it was trying to erase itself from me, for twenty minutes.

That’s all it took to turn my life into something I didn’t recognize.

The warehouse appeared out of nowhere, abandoned and too still, like it was not part of the city.

Two black SUVs were already parked outside.

Of course they were.

I stepped out before I was ready to.

The wind hit me hard, biting through my pyjamas, they wouldn't allow me to change. I barely felt the cold compared to the way my chest tightened.

“Stay close,” my father said.

But he didn’t look at me when he said it.

That was new.

Inside, the warehouse was lit too brightly for something this wrong.

And then I saw them.

Lorenzo De Luca.

And his father, Alfonso.

My legs nearly gave out immediately.

I had heard stories my whole life. Everyone had. You don’t grow up in this world without learning which names you whisper and which ones you never say at all.

The De Lucases weren’t just dangerous.

They were final.

Alfonso looked me over like I was a shipment.

Not a person.

Not a girl.

A decision someone else had already agreed to make.

“This is it?” he asked, bored already.

My father nodded.

My throat tightened.

"No. No, no, no."

Two men grabbed me before I could step back.

“Dad!” I screamed. “Dad, please—”

I looked at him.

Really looked.

And that’s when it landed properly.

He wasn’t coming for me.

He couldn’t even meet my eyes.

That broke something in me I didn’t know could break.

“No…” I whispered, struggling harder now. “Please don’t do this.”

They stripped me there.

Not gently.

Not cruelly either.

Just efficiently.

Like they had done it before. Like my humiliation was paperwork.

Cold air hit my skin like knives.

I stopped fighting for a second just to breathe through the shock of it.

I remember staring at the concrete floor and thinking this can’t be real, this can’t be real, this can’t be—

Alfonso walked around me slowly.

Circling.

Inspecting.

Like I was being evaluated for ownership.

I couldn’t even feel shame properly anymore. It was too big for that.

It was just… emptiness creeping in at the edges.

“She will do,” he said finally. I quickly put on my clothes in tears.

Like that was the point.

A man stepped forward with a document.

My father took it without hesitation.

No pause.

No second thought.

I watched him sign my life away.

That part didn’t feel like betrayal at first.

It felt like being erased while still conscious enough to see it happen.

The guards grabbed me again.

I started shaking now. Not fighting anymore.

Just shaking.

“Get her into the car,” Alfonso said.

“We don’t have all day.”

That’s when panic finally caught up to me fully.

I thrashed again. Uselessly. Desperately.

“Wait!” my father suddenly said.

They paused.

My head snapped toward him so fast it hurt.

For a second, something flickered in my chest.

Hope is a stupid thing. It shows up even when it shouldn’t.

“I should say goodbye,” he added.

My heart dropped again, but differently this time.

Because that wasn’t what I thought he meant.

Alfonso scoffed.

“We claimed her the moment you signed.”

I didn’t understand it yet.

Not fully.

Not until I heard him.

“Make it snappy.”

The voice came from the car.

Low, calm, controlled it was the first time I heard him speak since we walked in here.

I turned slowly.

Lorenzo De Luca was sitting in the backseat.

Like he had been there the entire time waiting for the rest of the world to finish arranging itself around him.

He didn’t look at me right away.

He looked out the window first.

Like I wasn’t part of the moment worth reacting to yet.

That somehow made it worse.

My father rushed to me then.

Too fast. Too late.

Dad immediately ran to me and hugged me tightly, I let my tears run, when I was born into this world I knew my marriage was going to be as the Family deems fit, and I have no say on the matter.

But I hadn't in my wildest dreams thought it was the most cruel family in the whole of New York.

He grabbed my shoulders hard.

“I will come for you,” he whispered, breath shaking now. “Two years, Isabella. Just survive two years.”

My throat burned.

I wanted to believe him.

I think part of me still did.

But then I saw his hands.

Still clean, still free.

And I finally understood what survival meant in his mouth.

It meant me, only me.

He pulled away too quickly.

Like staying longer would make him responsible.

The guards dragged me again.

I fought less this time.

Not because I stopped wanting to resist.

But because something in me understood resistance was no longer part of the equation.

The door of the car opened.

Cold leather again.

A different kind of cold this time.

Not outside, Inside.

I was shoved in as some crumpled paper and the door closed.

And just like that, I was no longer a daughter.

I was a transaction, the engine started immediately.

The world began to move.

I didn’t look at my father anymore.

I couldn’t.

I stared forward instead, breathing shallow, trying to hold myself together in a way that felt like a joke now.

That’s when Lorenzo finally turned his head.

Not fully. Just enough.

His eyes met mine.

And everything in me went still.

There was no sympathy there, no softness, not even cruelty either.

It felt like he was sizing me up.

Like he was already measuring something about me I hadn’t agreed to yet.

The car slowed.

We were leaving.

I didn’t even realize I had started crying until my breath broke.

The mansion came after that.

Too large. Too quiet. Too clean.

Like nothing human was allowed to leave fingerprints on it.

They brought me inside.

Upstairs, before I knew it I was in a locked room.

Silk sheets that meant nothing.

A cage dressed in comfort.

I sat on the floor for a long time without moving.

I don’t know how long.

Time stopped making sense in places like that.

Then the door opened.

No knock, no warning, he just walked in like he owned the damned world.

Lorenzo stepped in.

And the air changed immediately, the room felt heavier.

Like it had just remembered who owned it.

He stopped in front of me. He looked down slowly.

Like he was taking his time deciding what I was.

I hated that I didn’t look away.

I should have, but I didn’t.

“Strip,” he said.

One word, flat and final.

For a second, my mind refused to process it.

“What?” I croaked.

His gaze didn’t move.

“I said strip.”

A pause.

Then, quieter:

“Let’s see how obedient you are.”

Something in my chest cracked open at that.

Not just fear, something deeper, like I was finally grasping my situation.

I stood up slowly.

My legs barely worked. My hands shook as I reached for the fabric I was still wearing.

Every movement felt unreal.

Like I was watching someone else decide what humiliation felt like.

I hated him.

I think I already hated him.

But I also understood something else, buried under it.

He wasn’t testing my body.

He was measuring my refusal.

And I was standing in it anyway.

One layer fell.

Then another.

The silence in the room didn’t change.

That was the worst part. He didn’t look away.

Didn’t flinch, didn’t react either like a man seeing something he should feel guilty for.

He just watched me.

Like patience had teeth.

And I was already inside its mouth.

When I was done, I stood there shaking, arms crossed over myself instinctively.

Not because it helped.

Because it was the only thing left I could still choose.

Lorenzo didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Just looked at me a moment longer than necessary.

Then turned slightly, as if the whole thing had simply been… confirmed.

There was no way of knowing if he was satisfied or disappointed. Since his face card is always unreadable.

And that’s when I understood the kind of cage I was in.

It wasn’t made to break me quickly.

It was made to make me stay aware while I broke slowly.

He walked out without another word.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And I was left standing there in silence that felt like it had learned my name.

That was the first night.

And I remember thinking, very clearly, very quietly…

This man doesn’t want me gone.

He wants me aware, always aware.