CHAPTER 2: THE ESTATE

DANTE'S POV

She was shaking.

I could feel it through the grip I had on her wrist. Small tremors running through her body like aftershocks.

The girl—Mia, not Vanessa—sat as far from me as the car would allow. Her eyes were wide. Terrified. Like a rabbit caught in a trap.

Good. Fear meant she wouldn't do anything stupid.

"Sir," Marco said from the front seat.

"Where to?"

"The estate. Main house." I loosened my grip on her wrist. She immediately pulled away, pressing herself against the door.

"Luca will follow," Marco warned.

"Let him." I pulled out my phone, already making calls. "He can't undo a legal marriage. The ceremony was completed. Witnessed. It's binding."

"But the contract—"

"Was vague enough that any Chen daughter suffices. My lawyers will argue it." I glanced at the girl. She was staring out the window, tears streaming silently down her face.

"The real problem is the timeline."

Four weeks.

Four weeks to get this stranger pregnant or lose everything my father built.

Everything I had bled for.

"Is it true?" Her voice was small. Broken.

"About the heir? About four weeks?"

I looked at her. Really looked at her for the first time.

She was nothing like Vanessa. Where her sister was polished and sophisticated, this girl was... plain. Simple clothes. No makeup. Hair in a messy ponytail.

But her eyes. There was something in her eyes. Strength hiding beneath the fear.

"Yes," I said. "It's true."

"And if you don't... if we don't..." She couldn't even finish the sentence.

"Then my brother inherits. And you become his problem instead of mine."

"I'm not a problem," she said quietly.

"I'm a person."

Something in my chest tightened. Unexpected.

"In my world," I said, "everyone is a problem until they prove otherwise."

She turned back to the window. Said nothing else.

Smart girl. She was learning fast.

The estate appeared through the trees. Massive. Imposing. Surrounded by walls and gates and armed guards.

A fortress, not a home.

Marco drove through the security checkpoint. The gates closed behind us with a heavy clang.

The girl flinched at the sound. Like a prison door closing. She wasn't wrong.

"Out," I ordered when the car stopped.

She stumbled getting out. I caught her arm—gentler this time. She still jerked away from my touch.

"Where are we?" she whispered.

"Your new home." I gestured to the mansion.

"Welcome to the Moretti estate, wife."

The word tasted strange on my tongue. Wife. I'd never planned to have one. Never wanted one.

But my father's will had left me no choice.

Marry and produce an heir, or lose everything to Luca.

I'd thought Vanessa would be easy. Controllable. Shallow enough not to ask questions or demand emotions I couldn't give.

But I got Mia instead.

And I had no idea what to do with her.

MIA'S POV

The house was terrifying.

Not because it was ugly—it was beautiful. Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. Art that probably cost more than my parents' house.

But it was cold. Empty. More museum than home.

And filled with men in suits who watched me like I was an enemy.

"This way," Dante said. He didn't touch me. Just expected me to follow.

I did. What choice did I have?

Up a grand staircase. Down a long hallway. To a set of double doors.

He opened them. "Your room."

The bedroom was enormous. A massive four-poster bed dominated the center. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked gardens. Everything was white and gold and suffocating.

"Where's your room?" I asked.

"On the other side of the house."

Relief flooded through me. Separate rooms meant—

"For now," he added. His gray eyes pinned me in place.

"But that will change. Soon."

My stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

"I mean we have four weeks to produce an heir. Which requires..." He stepped closer.

"Close proximity."

"No." I backed away. "You can't—I won't—"

"You will." His voice was flat. Emotionless.

"You agreed to this marriage. You're my wife now. Which means you have certain... obligations."

"I didn't agree to anything! I was forced—"

"And yet you said 'I do.'" He tilted his head.

"You could have run like your sister. Could have refused at the altar. But you didn't. You chose this."

"I chose saving my family!"

"Then save them by doing your job."

He moved to the door.

"Someone will bring you dinner. Don't try to leave this room. The guards have orders to stop you."

"I'm a prisoner?"

"You're my wife. There's a difference."

"Is there?"

He paused. Looked back at me. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Something almost like... regret?

But it was gone in an instant.

"Get some rest," he said. "Tomorrow, you'll meet the rest of the family. And trust me—they're much worse than I am."

Then he left. The door closed. I heard a lock click.

I was alone.

In a beautiful prison.

Married to a stranger.

Expected to have his baby in four weeks.

I sank onto the bed, my whole body shaking. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be my life.

But the ring on my finger—heavy, gold, engraved with some symbol I didn't recognize—proved otherwise.

I was Mia Moretti now. And there was no going back.

DANTE'S POV

I watched her on the monitors.

My office had cameras in every room. Security. Necessary in my world.

She was sitting on the bed, staring at nothing. Not crying. Not screaming. Just... still.

Like she'd shut down completely.

"She's stronger than she looks," Marco said from behind me.

"Or she's in shock."

"Either way, she didn't break at the church. Didn't run. Didn't cause a scene." He crossed his arms.

"Vanessa would have."

He was right. Vanessa would have screamed. Would have made everything about her. Would have been useless.

But this girl—Mia—had stood there and taken it. Had said her vows even with a gun pointed at the priest.

Had kissed me back, just for a second, before remembering to be afraid.

That kiss. I could still feel it.

Which was a problem.

I couldn't afford to care about her. Couldn't afford to see her as anything but a means to an end.

A womb to carry my heir. A wife to secure my inheritance.

Nothing more.

"Luca will make his move soon," Marco said. "He won't let this go."

"I know." I closed the laptop. Couldn't watch her anymore.

"Double the guards. No one gets in or out without my approval. And find out everything about her. Everything."

"You think she's working with Luca?"

"I think she appeared at exactly the right time to complicate everything. Which means she's either very unlucky..." I paused. "Or very clever."

"And if she's clever?"

"Then I'll enjoy breaking her."

The words came out automatic. Cold. The way I'd been trained to respond.

But watching Marco leave, I felt something strange in my chest.

Something that felt almost like guilt. I pushed it away. Buried it deep. I was Dante Moretti. I didn't feel guilt. I didn't feel anything.

And this girl—this accidental wife—wasn't going to change that.

No matter how her eyes haunted me.

No matter how her kiss had felt like coming home.

She was a job. Nothing more.

I just had to keep telling myself that. A knock on my door. One of my men.

"Sir, there's a car at the gate. Luca Moretti. He's requesting entry."

Of course he was.

"Let him in," I said. "Bring him to my office."

"Sir, are you sure—"

"He's still my brother. And he won't try anything. Not here. Not yet."

The man left.

I poured two glasses of whiskey. Waited.

Five minutes later, Luca walked in. Same face. Same build. But different in every way that mattered.

Where I was controlled, he was loose. Where I was cold, he was charming.

We were identical twins who couldn't be more different.

"Hello, brother," he said, taking the offered glass. "Congratulations on your wedding."

"What do you want, Luca?"

"What I've always wanted. What's mine." He sat in my chair—my chair—like he owned it. "The empire. The power. The respect our father never gave me."

"Father gave you plenty—"

"He gave me scraps!" Luca's mask cracked. Just for a second. "While you got everything. The inheritance. The title. The future. All because you were born three minutes earlier."

"You know why Father chose me."

"Because you're cold enough to do what's necessary? Because you don't feel?" Luca laughed. It was bitter.

"That's not strength, Dante. That's damage."

"And what are you? Jealous? Desperate?"

"I'm the son who deserved a chance."

He stood. Walked to the window.

"But Father decided before we were even born. And now you're scrambling to fulfill some ridiculous heir clause because you never bothered to marry until it was too late."

He was right. I'd put it off. Told myself I had time. That I didn't need anyone.

And now I was paying for it.

"The girl," Luca said, turning back to me. "Mia. She's pretty. In a simple way."

"Stay away from her."

"Or what? You'll kill me? Your own brother?" He smiled. "We both know you won't. For all your coldness, you still have that one weakness. Family."

"Don't test me."

"I'm not testing. I'm warning." He set down his glass.

"Four weeks, brother. And if you fail—when you fail—I'll be there. And I'll take everything. Including your pretty little wife."

"She's mine."

"For now." He walked to the door. Paused.

"Oh, and Dante? I hope you remember which side of your face the scar is on. Wouldn't want anyone getting confused."

He left.

And I stood there, his words echoing in my head.

The scar. My distinctive feature. The only way to tell us apart.

Why would he mention that?

Unless—

No. He wouldn't.

Would he?

I pulled out my phone. Called Marco.

"Yes, sir?"

"I want guards on my wife. Twenty-four seven. No one gets near her without my knowledge. Especially Luca."

"Understood."

I hung up.

Looked at the monitors again. At Mia, still sitting on the bed. Still motionless.

My wife.

The key to my inheritance.

And now, potentially, a target in a game I'd just realized was far more dangerous than I'd thought.

Because if Luca could pretend to be me...

If he could get close to her...

If she couldn't tell us apart...

Everything could still be lost.