The First Debt

The black SUV sped through the night, but it felt like a cage. Every time the tires hit a bump, my shoulder brushed against Alessandro’s. He didn't move. He didn't look at me. He sat there like a statue carved from ice, staring straight ahead.

"Why are you doing this?" I finally whispered. My voice sounded small and broken in the quiet car. "If you know I’m not Bianca, why did you marry me?"

Alessandro didn't answer for a long time. Then, he turned his head slowly. The light from a passing streetlamp hit his eyes, making them look like cold glass.

"A contract is a contract, Serena," he said. "Your father promised me a De Luca daughter to seal our borders. He didn't specify which one. If I had walked away, the other families would think I was weak. I don't do weak."

"So I'm just a replacement?" I felt a sharp sting in my chest. It was an old pain. All my life, I had been the spare tire, the one hidden in the back while Bianca took the spotlight.

"You're a hostage," he corrected.

The car pulled up to a massive gate that groaned as it opened. We drove up a long path to a house that looked more like a fortress. This was the Moretti Estate. It stood on the edge of a cliff, the sound of the angry sea crashing against the rocks below. It sounded like a warning.

The car stopped. A guard opened my door, but Alessandro was already out. He didn't offer me his hand. He didn't wait. He walked toward the massive front doors with long, confident strides.

I scrambled out of the car, my heavy wedding dress tripping me. I stumbled, the white silk catching on the gravel. I managed to stay on my feet, but I felt pathetic. I was a bride in a dress that wasn't mine, in a life I didn't choose.

We entered a grand hall. A woman was waiting there. She was older, with gray hair pulled into a tight, painful-looking bun. She looked at me with pure disgust.

"This is not Bianca," she snapped.

"I know, Maria," Alessandro said, tossing his jacket onto a chair. "Bianca ran. This is Serena. She will be staying in the North Wing."

The woman, Maria, stepped closer to me. She narrowed her eyes. "She looks like a frightened rabbit. She won't last a week in this house."

"She will last as long as I need her to," Alessandro said. He turned to me, his face blank. "Go with her. She will show you your room. Do not leave it. Do not explore. If I find you wandering, I will assume you are trying to escape, and I will treat you like a spy."

"But I haven't eaten since this morning," I said, my stomach twisting.

"Hunger is a good teacher," Alessandro replied. "It reminds you of your place."

He turned and walked into a dark office, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed through the hall like a gunshot.

Maria grabbed my arm. Her grip was surprisingly strong. "Come. I don't have all night to waste on a fake bride."

She led me up a winding staircase and down a long, dark hallway. The walls were covered in portraits of grim-looking men. They all seemed to be watching me, judging me. We stopped at a heavy oak door at the very end of the hall.

Maria unlocked it and shoved me inside. "There. Sleep. If you're lucky, he might forget about you for a day or two."

She slammed the door and I heard the lock click.

I was a prisoner.

The room was cold and large. I walked over to the window. Far below, I could see the white foam of the waves hitting the black rocks. There was no way out.

I sat on the edge of the bed and finally let the tears fall. I hated my father for leaving me here. I hated Bianca for being selfish. But mostly, I hated myself for being so quiet that they thought they could do this to me.

I spent an hour trying to get out of the wedding dress. The buttons on the back were tiny and impossible to reach. I felt like I was being strangled by the silk. Just as I was about to give up and sleep in the dress, the lock turned.

The door opened. Alessandro stood there. He had traded his suit for a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing thick, muscular forearms covered in scars.

He didn't say a word. He walked over to me. I backed away until my heels hit the wall.

"Turn around," he commanded.

"What?"

"The dress. Turn around."

I obeyed, my heart hammering against my ribs. I felt his large, warm hands on my back. My skin moved under his touch. One by one, he began to undo the buttons. He was slow and careful, but the air between us felt heavy and dangerous.

"Why are you doing this?" I whispered.

"Because I want to see what I bought," he said.

He finished the last button. The dress loosened, sliding off my shoulders. I clutched the fabric to my chest, turning to face him. My heart was racing so fast I thought I might faint.

Alessandro leaned in, his face inches from mine. "Do you know what happens to people who lie to the Moretti family, Serena?"

"I didn't have a choice," I cried.

"We always have a choice," he said, his voice dropping to a growl. "You chose to walk down that aisle. Now, you belong to me."

He reached out and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Your father thinks he tricked me. He thinks he can keep his money and give me the 'spare' daughter. He's wrong."

"What are you going to do?"

Alessandro leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. "I’m going to make him watch as I break everything he loves. Starting with you."

Suddenly, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. His entire body went stiff.

"What is it?" I asked, sensing the shift in the room.

He looked at me, and for the first time, I saw a flash of real rage in his eyes.

"Your sister didn't just run away, Serena," he said, his voice trembling with fury. "She’s at the border. With Marco Vitelli. And she’s carrying a Vitelli crest on her car."

My blood ran cold. Marco Vitelli was Alessandro’s greatest enemy.

"She went to the man who wants me dead," Alessandro hissed. He grabbed my arm, his grip painful. "And you... you're going to help me lure her back so I can kill them both."