Chapter 3 Episode 3

The morning after the wedding, I woke up alone.

A part of me expected to feel relief. Instead, I felt cold. The silence of the room stretched like a second skin, suffocating me with its stillness.

I sat up in the bed, pulling the covers around myself as I stared at the empty spot beside me. Dante hadn't come back. He hadn't even stayed in the room. And for a reason I couldn't explain, that stung more than I wanted to admit.

I reminded myself that this wasn't a marriage built on love. Or even choice.

It was a transaction.

I was the price.

---

I took my time getting ready. The mansion was unfamiliar, too grand, too still-every surface shining, every corner untouched. It looked like a home in a magazine spread. Perfect, sterile, and absolutely lifeless.

I wandered through the halls until I found the kitchen. A woman I didn't know greeted me with a gentle smile. She introduced herself as Maria-the head housekeeper. She'd worked for Dante for years.

"You must be hungry," she said, already plating up something before I could even nod.

"I'm not really-"

"Eat," she said, her tone soft but firm. "It's your first morning here. You'll need strength."

I didn't argue. I didn't have the energy to.

As I sat at the massive island eating eggs I barely tasted, I kept waiting for him to appear.

He didn't.

---

I didn't see Dante at all that day.

Or the next.

It was like I'd been dropped into this mansion and left to figure out the rules myself. I wandered room to room, unsure what I was allowed to touch or do. Everyone who worked here seemed to know who I was, but they treated me with the careful politeness reserved for strangers.

By the third day, I snapped.

I found Maria in the hallway and asked, "Where is he?"

She looked at me, unreadable. "Mr. Romano is in his office."

"His office?"

She nodded, then gestured to the east wing. "End of the hall. But I wouldn't go without knocking."

I didn't wait.

---

I found the door. Thick mahogany. Closed.

I hesitated. Then raised my hand and knocked once-sharp.

"Enter," came the voice from inside.

I opened the door.

Dante was seated behind a massive desk, papers in front of him, laptop open. He looked up when I walked in, his expression unreadable.

"You're alive," I said, arms crossed.

"So are you," he replied dryly.

"Do you usually ignore your wife after the wedding?"

He leaned back in his chair. "Do you usually barge into rooms without being invited?"

I ignored the jab and stepped closer. "Why am I here if you don't want anything to do with me?"

He tilted his head. "You're here because that's what the alliance demands."

"Right," I said bitterly. "Because women are bargaining chips."

His eyes didn't flinch. "You're not just a bargaining chip, Giulia. You're leverage. A bridge. A peace offering."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"No. It's supposed to make you understand."

I hated how calm he was. How nothing seemed to rattle him.

"Do you even care that I didn't choose this? That I didn't choose you?"

He stood then. Slowly. His height and presence towering, making the space between us feel like a battlefield.

"You think I wanted this?" he said, voice low. "You think I woke up one day and said, 'Let me marry the daughter of a man I've spent my life fighting to outmaneuver'?"

"Then why did you agree?"

His gaze hardened. "Because sometimes, power is more important than pride. Peace is more valuable than preference. And marrying you gave me both."

I flinched. "So that's all I am to you."

He looked away. "Right now? Yes."

His honesty was brutal.

I turned to leave, humiliated, but his voice stopped me.

"You want to know who I am, Giulia?" he asked.

I didn't answer.

"I'm a man who's survived betrayal, blood, and war. I don't waste time on things that don't serve me."

"And what am I supposed to be?" I asked, turning back. "An ornament on your arm? A trophy for your victory?"

He stepped closer. Not touching me, but close enough that I could feel his breath.

"You're my wife. You belong to me now. That's all that matters."

---

I stormed out.

But his words clung to me the entire walk back to my room.

---

That night, I cried again.

Not for him. Not for the marriage.

But for the version of myself that had once dreamed of love.

---

The following week passed in tense silence.

We rarely crossed paths. He was always in his office or away for meetings. I spent most of my time alone, wandering the garden, flipping through books I couldn't focus on, watching a life I didn't ask for unfold without my permission.

But something was changing inside me.

I'd been thrown into this world with no say. But that didn't mean I had to stay voiceless.

I started asking questions. About the family business. About the history. About the alliances and rivalries that led to this union.

Maria didn't say much. But she gave me looks-quiet warnings in the shape of glances.

One evening, she pulled me aside.

"Be careful what you ask, Giulia."

"Why?" I whispered.

"Because in this house, knowledge isn't just power-it's danger."

---

I was beginning to piece things together.

My father hadn't just given me away to form peace. He'd made a calculated move-putting me in Dante's hands as both a seal and a threat.

If either side broke the alliance, it would be me who paid the price.

I was a pawn on the board.

And pawns could be sacrificed.

---

One night, I couldn't sleep.

I crept down the hall and found myself outside his office again. This time, I didn't knock.

The door was open a crack. I pushed it quietly and saw him inside-pouring a drink, standing by the window.

"You never sleep either?" I asked, startling him slightly.

His eyes met mine, surprised. "Something on your mind?"

"I have a thousand things on my mind. But right now? Just one."

He raised a brow. "And that is?"

"Why me?"

He didn't answer right away. He poured a second glass and handed it to me.

I took it, surprised.

He finally said, "Because your father knew I wouldn't kill my own wife. That's why he offered you. And because I needed to end the bloodshed."

"So I was insurance."

He nodded.

I sipped the drink. It burned all the way down.

"I hate this," I admitted quietly.

"So do I," he said.

We stood there for a long time. Not speaking. Just two strangers bound by something neither of us chose.

But in that silence, something shifted.

For the first time, I saw the man behind the cold eyes. Not the boss. Not the enemy.

Just a man.

Alone. Like me.