Chapter 2 Two

POV Isabella

The Castellano's house has nothing to do with ours. It is a concrete and glass palace, built to be a fortress. The entrance is guarded by huge men who make no attempt to hide their weapons. However, they greet us without looking at us except out of the corner of their eyes, because they know that a misinterpreted look could cost them their lives.

My father loves this theatricality. But I couldn't care any less, I'm only interested in keeping my reputation as a ruthless persecutor intact.

The main room is like a huge, round fishbowl with large windows overlooking a pool in which no one is swimming. In the center is a circular table to prevent anyone from occupying the head. In this place the game is of equals, but we all know that is a lie.

The Castellano family is already waiting for us. Matteo, the patriarch of the family, wears dark blue and is full of overpriced accessories. Next to him is his daughter, but she is just a pretty shadow behind him. I don't even know her name. I once heard he also has a son, but I've never seen him.

The others are relatives, lawyers, and an old man with a vulture face who introduces himself as a notary.

We sit down without a word. The air is thick with tension.

My father smiles as if this were a party, although the reason we are here today is certainly not to celebrate. A week ago, he gambled and lost a considerable sum of money against that bastard Castellano, and he can't pay it back unless he sells a large part of our property.

"Mr. Castellano, my respect," says my father.

The other does not return the gesture. He knows that my father is the most powerful man in the room today. And I am the second, if I can be considered as such. The Castellanos have a lot of money, that's true, but we are preceded by our century-old surname: Ricci.

"Did you bring the money?" Matteo asks him.

My father shakes his head with fake regret.

"You know as well as I do that it is impossible to raise that amount in a week. We are not bankers, we are men of our word. That's why I came to offer a solution."

Matteo lets silence take over the room for a few seconds. Even I am intrigued, because he didn't tell me anything specific about what he intends to offer.

"Speak."

"We propose a deal," my father says at last. "A merger, so to speak. My son, Isidro, will marry your daughter. As soon as the contract is signed, we will pay you what we owe. Not before."

My blood runs cold and every muscle in my body immediately tenses. Has he gone mad?

I look at him, trying to hide my surprise. And my horror. It's hard enough living this lie, how does he think I'll manage to keep my identity hidden if he forces me to marry another woman?

Yet he doesn't even look in my direction. I feel his betrayal deep inside me. He had already made up his mind, that's why he didn't tell me anything. How could he do this to me, who has always followed all his instructions without hesitation?

The notary writes down every word without taking his eyes off the paper.

Castellano's daughter raises her head and looks at me fleetingly. Her eyes are black, expressionless. She looks at the table again.

"And if I refuse?" Matteo asks.

"It's not in your best interest," my father replies. "There are other interested parties. We could sell the debt to someone less... reasonable."

The Castellano smiles, but it is an empty gesture.

"And what guarantee do I have that your son won't run away, like his mother?"

My father doesn't blink. I do, and I look at Castellano without hiding my hostility. How dare he even mention her?

"Isidro will stay at your house. Starting tomorrow. So you'll have total control," my father says as if offering a piece of furniture. As if I were a lamp or a sculpture. Something that can be left and forgotten.

The lawyers whisper and the notary writes. Castellano's daughter doesn't even flinch. The deal is done. The rest is paperwork.

As we leave the room, I feel the venom coursing through my veins. It's not the humiliation, not even the danger. It's the certainty that my life has just been handed over in exchange for a signed piece of paper.

The car waits at the door. No one speaks on the way back. My father smokes silently, each puff sticking in the low ceiling of the car.

Upon arrival, I confront him in the foyer. There are no servants left, no witnesses. Just the two of us and my anger.

"I'm not going to do it," I bluntly spit.

He looks at me wearily, as if he had already seen my reaction coming and had already dismissed it.

"It's no longer your decision."

"What if I refuse?" I dare him, and I think it's the first time in my life.

"You won't. Because you're a Ricci. Because you won't force me to dishonor your mother and all those who died to get you here."

My hands are shaking, but not with fear.

"Does that sound like honor to you?" I spit. "Selling me out as collateral to those pigs?"

"That looks like survival to me," he replies. "If you had a shred of vision, you'd understand. This will only be temporary, until I have the money to pay him back. Then I'll break the deal."

Rage blurs my vision. I step forward, barely half a meter separating us.

"Maybe I'd rather die than live like this."

He laughs in a dry, cutting way.

"That's what your mother thought. That's why she's dead."

He has slapped me without moving a muscle.

My mother. My weak spot.

I don't respond. I know when I've lost.

I go up to my room and close the door, but this time I don't take off my costume. I sit on the bed with my back straight and my hands on my knees. I repeat in my head what I should do: hold on, watch, look for the crack.

There is a plan, there always is, I just have to survive long enough to execute it.

I pack few things: underwear, the elastic bandages, a couple of old books and the gun my father gave me the first time I killed someone. Everything fits in a backpack.

In the early morning I'm woken up, a driver is waiting for me at the door. My father doesn't even say goodbye to me, and I get in the car without looking back.

Today I hate him more than ever before. More than I've hated anyone else in my entire life.