Chapter 4: The Question

The sun wasn't even up when the heavy thudding started on my door.

“Isabella, get up."

It was Enzo. His voice was muffled by the thick wood of the bedroom door, but I could hear the impatience in it. I pulled the silk duvet over my head, trying to pretend I was back in my cramped apartment with the sounds of the city outside. But the air here was too clean, and the bed was too soft.

"Go away," I croaked.

"The boss is waiting. There’s a dress on the chair. Put it on. You have fifteen minutes."

I sat up and looked at the chair. It was a cream-colored silk dress, simple and elegant. It looked like something a bride without proper planning would wear; it was so obvious that one amongst these men chose this dress. I hated it. I hated that he had chosen it. I hated that he knew my size.

Some minutes later, I walked down the grand staircase. My heels clicked against the marble, a sharp, lonely sound in the quiet house. Luca was standing at the bottom, dressed in a charcoal suit that made his eyes look like flint. He was checking a gold watch on his wrist.

"You’re three minutes late," he said, not looking up.

I hated his attitude.

"I didn't ask to be here," I snapped.

He looked at me then. His gaze travelled from my shoes to my face. He didn't smile. He didn't compliment me. He just nodded toward the front door. "The car is waiting."

We walked out into the chilly morning air. A different car was waiting today, not the SUV, but a long, black limousine with tinted windows, quite much for a contracted wedding. The driver held the door open, and Luca entered gracefully. I followed, sliding as far to the opposite side as the leather seat would allow.

The door shut with a heavy thud, sealing us in. The car pulled away.

For more than ten minutes, no one spoke. Luca was looking through a leather folder; his brow furrowed in concentration. I watched the trees blur past the tinted window.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"The city," Luca said. "To make this official."

"You really think a piece of paper is going to make me yours?"

Luca turned a page in his folder. “Technically yes, although the paper isn't for me, Isabella. It’s for the rest of the world. It tells everyone that if they touch you, they have declared war on the Moretti family. It’s a shield. Whether you like the person holding it is irrelevant."

"And after? When you have your diamond?"

"Then we’ll see," he said. He closed the folder and finally looked at me. "But before we get to the courthouse, I have a question. One that I didn't want to ask in front of the help."

I felt my heart skip a beat. "What question?"

"Your father," Luca said, leaning back. "The night he left. Did he say anything to you? Anything that didn't make sense at the time?"

"I was twelve, Luca. He told me to brush my teeth and go to bed. That was the last thing he said."

"Think harder," Luca pressed. His voice was low, almost hypnotic. "Men like your father don't just walk out into the night. They leave markers. They leave a trail for the people they love. Did he give you a toy? A book? A phrase he repeated?"

I looked away, back out the window. I remembered that night vividly. The smell of his cheap cologne. The way he’d kissed the top of my head.

“Remember the story of the knight, Bella? The knight always hides his treasure where the dragon won’t look.”

I pushed the memory down. I wasn't giving that to him. Not yet. "He told me he’d be back by breakfast. He lied. That’s all I remember."

"You’re a terrible liar, Isabella," Luca said.

"I'm not lying!" I turned back to him, my eyes stinging. "You think my life was some grand adventure? It was a struggle. My mom cried every night for a year. We moved four times in three years. If he left a trail, he did a bad job of it, because we ended up with nothing."

Luca watched me for a long time. He didn't look angry. He looked... curious. Like I was a puzzle he hadn't solved yet.

"Maybe he didn't want you to find it," Luca mused. "Maybe he wanted the trail to be so cold that even we couldn't follow it. But he left that locket on you. He left those numbers."

"He probably thought we’d be safe," I whispered.

"No one is safe," Luca said. "Safety is an illusion that poor people buy so they can sleep at night. In my world, you’re only as safe as the walls you build and the people you kill."

"That sounds like a lonely way to live."

Luca’s mouth twitched, almost a smile, but not quite. "It’s effective. Now, the question remains. If I take you to the vault, and your thumbprint doesn't work... what should I do with you then?"

The air in the car suddenly felt very cold. I looked at the glass partition between us and the driver. It was thick. No one could hear us.

“I don’t know. I thought you had all this figured out?”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” he shrugged. “But the question remains the same. What should I do with you?”

"Is that a threat?" I asked.

"It’s literally a question, Isa,” Luca sighed.

Isa?

"I am spending a lot of political capital to marry the daughter of a traitor. My men don't like it. My rivals see it as a weakness. If you aren't the key, then you’re just a liability. And I don't keep liabilities."

"Then let me go now," I said, leaning toward him. "Tell them I died. Tell them I ran away. Just let me take my mom and go."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because," Luca said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I think you do know. I think your father told you exactly where it is, and you’re just waiting for the right moment to use it as leverage."

"You overthink things," I said.

"And you underthink the danger you're in," he countered.

I scoffed. “It’s literally just a diamond.” It seemed like he wanted to say something but decided to keep quiet anyway.

The car slowed down as we entered the city. The towering skyscrapers of downtown loomed over us. People were walking to work, carrying coffee, checking their phones just normal people living normal lives. I felt like I was looking at them from another planet.

"We're here," Luca said.

The car stopped in front of a grey stone building. It wasn't a church. It wasn't a romantic setup. It was a government office. There were three men in dark suits standing on the sidewalk, watching the street with eagle eyes.

"One more time, Isabella," Luca said as the driver reached for the door handle. "Is there anything else? Any detail? A name? A place?"

I looked at the ring on my finger, the one he’d forced on me this morning before we left. It was a heavy, cold weight.

"No," I said firmly. "Nothing."

Luca stared at me for three long seconds. He knew I was holding back. I knew he knew. But he didn't push. He just nodded once.

"Fine. Let's go.”

The door opened, and the noise of the city flooded in. It was loud, chaotic, and indifferent to my fate. Luca stepped out first and held out his hand.

I looked at his palm. It was rough, the hand of a man who knew how to use a weapon. I took it, and his grip was like iron. He pulled me out of the car and toward the steps of the courthouse.

Inside, the building smelled of old paper and floor wax. We didn't wait in line. We were led through a side door into a private office. A man with a tired face and a thick mustache was waiting behind a desk. He didn't look up as we entered.

"Sign here," the man said, pushing a document toward us.

I looked at the paper.

Marriage License. My name was already printed there: Isabella Romano.

I was surprised they used that name, considering how Luca emphasized its ‘danger.’

I picked up the pen. My hand was shaking so badly I had to grip the edge of the desk with my other hand.

I looked at Luca. He was already signing his name. His signature was sharp, aggressive, and perfectly controlled.

"One more thing. What about my mother?" I asked. I needed to be sure of her well-being before signing something I wasn’t in support of

He sighed.

"She’s being moved to a more permanent location today," Luca said, not looking up from the paper. "A house in the suburbs. She’ll have a garden. She’ll have a chef. And she’ll have a guard at the door twenty-four hours a day."

"A guard or a jailer?"

"In her case, they’re the same thing," Luca said. He finished his signature and handed the pen to me. "Sign, Isa."

I looked at the bored man behind the desk. I thought about screaming. I thought about running for the door. But I saw Enzo standing by the exit, his hand resting near his waistband.

I signed the paper.

"Done," the official said. He stamped the document with a heavy, red seal. "I’ll file these with the state. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Moretti."

Luca took the copy of the license and handed it to Enzo. "Take this to the bank. Tell them we’ll be there at two o'clock."

"Yes, Boss."

Luca turned back to me. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it to reveal a band of black diamonds. It looked like a crown of thorns.

He took my left hand. His fingers were surprisingly gentle as he slid the ring onto my finger, right next to the engagement stone.

"You’re a Moretti now," he said. His voice was different, darker, more possessive. "That means you carry my name. You carry my secrets. And if you betray me, you carry the consequences."

"Tch. I haven't betrayed anyone," I said.

"Not yet," Luca whispered. He leaned in, his face inches from mine. "But the day is young, my wife." That word freaked me out.

‘My wife.’

He walked out, leaving me standing there with the heavy weight of the ring on my hand. I looked down at the diamond. It sparkled in the dim light of the office, beautiful and terrifying.

I wasn't Isabella Romano anymore. I was a Moretti now, and if I’ve learned anything these few days, it’s that the game had just begun just by me carrying this name.