INICIAR SESIÓNHe needs a fake wife to protect his empire. She needs a way to survive her shattered past. Neither expected the trap they built for themselves. Leonardo Moretti is Milan’s ruthless financial titan—a cold, guarded man who vowed never to let a woman near his heart after a devastating betrayal at the altar. Isabella Vance is just trying to outrun her own heartbreak when she takes a grueling job as his executive secretary. But a single, explosive night of weakness shatters all their professional boundaries, forcing Isabella to flee in panic. Desperate and cornered by a ruthless family clause that threatens to strip away everything he owns, Leonardo tracks her down with a chilling ultimatum: a three-year contract marriage. Trapped under the same roof playing the devoted wife to a man who claims he has no soul left to give, Isabella must protect her heart from the billionaire tyrant. But as hidden enemies close in and past secrets claw their way to the surface, they are about to learn that the deadliest trap of all is the one they built for themselves. How long can a fake marriage survive when the chemistry is entirely real—and someone is willing to destroy everything to tear it apart?
Ver másIsabella"He's jealous," I said, holding both of Nonna Sophia's hands in mine, forcing my voice to stay steady even as the lie sat heavy on my tongue. "Marcelo has spent his whole life watching Leonardo build something he could never have. A company. A family that still loves him despite everything. Now a wife who chose him. Of course he wants to poison it. It's the only weapon he has left."She studied my face for a long moment, the way she used to when I came home from school with a story that didn't quite add up. I made myself hold her gaze."I love him, Nonna," I said, and strangely, that part didn't feel like a lie at all anymore. "The contract is just paper now. What's underneath it is real."Her shoulders finally softened, the worry easing out of the lines around her eyes, and she pulled me into a hug that smelled like lavender soap and warm bread. "Then don't let that bitter old man near your wedding," she murmured against my hair. "
IsabellaSecurity had Julian out of the ballroom within ninety seconds, but I felt his eyes on the ring long after the doors closed behind him. Leonardo never let go of my hand, not once, not even when Marcelo crossed the room a moment later with a smile so tight it looked painful, offering congratulations that sounded like a threat wearing a nice suit. I smiled back and said thank you and didn't believe a word coming out of either of our mouths.LeonardoI didn't wait until morning.By the time we got home from the gala, I had already called the one man in Milan who owed me a favor big enough to open doors that should have stayed shut: a private investigator who used to work fraud cases for the finance ministry before he decided my money was better than his pension. I gave him one name. Marcus. I told him I wanted everything, every account, every phone record, every meeting from the last six months, and I wanted it before I had to look Luca
IsabellaThe photo was everywhere by the time I woke up. Julian's hand around my wrist, my face caught mid flinch, captioned in three different languages with some version of the same lie: *Moretti bride caught with mystery man.*I sat on the edge of the bed with my phone shaking in my hands until Leonardo's assistant knocked on the door and told me not to check my phone again for the rest of the day. It turned out to be good advice, because by that evening the story had simply stopped existing. Not buried. Erased. Three outlets that ran it issued quiet corrections. A gossip page that refused to take it down found its advertising pulled within hours. Leonardo never mentioned it to me directly. He didn't need to. I understood exactly what kind of man could make an entire news cycle disappear before dinner, and it frightened me a little how easily he'd done it.Three days later, he told me to be ready by seven.I wore emerald green that night,
LeonardoThe photograph was already everywhere by the time Matthew slid his tablet across my desk.I recognized the street before I recognized the man. The ivy on the restaurant wall near the Duomo, the candles flickering behind old glass windows, the awning I had personally approved for a sponsorship shoot only weeks before, and in the middle of it, Isabella, her hand caught inside another man's grip, her face turned up toward his like she was listening to something that mattered. The caption underneath, already written by some gossip page with more speed than sense, called him her "mystery man." I knew exactly who he was before Matthew even said the name.Something cold moved through my chest, sharp enough that I had to set the tablet down before my hand betrayed how tight my grip had gotten. Not because I cared who touched her. This was a contract, nothing more, a signature on a page that kept my father's company out of Marcelo's hands. But that


















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