CHAPTER 3: THE MORNING AFTER

MIA'S POV

I woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows. For one blissful second, I thought it was all a nightmare.

Then I saw the ring on my finger.

Heavy. Gold. Real.

I was married.

To a man who terrified me. In a house that felt like a tomb. Expected to produce an heir in four weeks or become his brother's property instead.

My stomach churned. I ran to the bathroom and threw up.

When I came back out, a woman was standing in my room.

I screamed.

"Easy, easy!" She held up her hands. Older, maybe fifty, with kind eyes and gray hair.

"I'm Maria. I work here. Mr. Moretti sent me to help you dress."

"Help me dress?" I pulled the blanket around myself.

"I can dress myself."

"Not for breakfast with the family, you can't." She walked to a closet I hadn't noticed. Opened it.

It was filled with clothes. Designer labels. Expensive fabrics. Nothing I would ever choose for myself.

"These aren't mine," I said.

"They are now. Mr. Moretti had them ordered."

Maria pulled out a dress. Navy blue. Conservative.

"This one. The family expects proper presentation."

"The family?"

"Mrs. Celeste Moretti. His mother. And several business associates." Maria's expression softened.

"I know this is overwhelming. But trust me—you want to make a good impression today."

"Why?"

"Because the women in this family are tested. Always." She laid the dress on the bed.

"And if you fail, they'll eat you alive."

Twenty minutes later, I was dressed like someone else.

The navy dress fit perfectly. Too perfectly. Like it had been tailored to my exact measurements.

How long had Dante been planning this? How long had he known he'd need a wife?

"Come," Maria said. "Breakfast is at eight sharp. Never late."

She led me through the mansion. Down hallways lined with portraits of stern-faced men. Through rooms that looked like they'd never been lived in.

We reached a dining room. Massive table. Crystal chandelier. And at the head of the table sat a woman who made ice look warm.

Celeste Moretti.

Dark hair pulled back severely. Cold gray eyes—Dante's eyes. She wore all black, elegant and intimidating.

She didn't stand when I entered. Didn't smile.

"You're on time," she said. Her voice was cultured. Precise.

"That's acceptable."

I opened my mouth to respond, but Maria squeezed my arm. A warning.

"Sit," Celeste commanded, gesturing to a chair halfway down the table.

I sat.

Servants appeared with food. Coffee. Pastries. Fresh fruit. I couldn't imagine eating.

"So," Celeste said, stirring her coffee.

"You're the replacement bride."

"I'm Mia Chen. I—"

"I know who you are." She set down her spoon with deliberate precision.

"What I don't know is what kind of woman agrees to marry a stranger to save her family's debt."

"A loyal one?"

"Or a desperate one." Her eyes cut through me.

"Tell me, Mia. Do you love my son?"

The question was a trap. I could feel it.

"I just met him yesterday."

"That's not what I asked."

"Then no. I don't love him. I don't know him."

"Good." She leaned back. "At least you're honest. Better than the other girl. Vanessa. That one was all lies and ambition."

"You knew Vanessa?"

"I vetted her myself. Found her unsuitable but... my son makes his own decisions."

Something dark crossed her face. "As did his father."

The way she said "father" made my skin crawl. Like the word tasted bitter.

"Mrs. Moretti—"

"You'll call me Celeste. We're family now. Unfortunately." She picked up a pastry, examining it.

"Let me tell you how this family works, girl. We don't love. We don't trust. We survive. And we do whatever is necessary to maintain power."

"I'm not trying to take any power—"

"You already have." She bit into the pastry. "The moment you married my son, you became a threat to everyone in this organization. A weakness they can exploit. A leverage point."

"I don't understand."

"You will." She stood.

"Breakfast is over. Maria will show you the rest of the house. Learn it. This is your prison now. You might as well know where the walls are."

She swept out of the room, leaving me alone with cold coffee and unanswered questions.

DANTE'S POV

"Your wife survived breakfast," Marco reported.

I looked up from the contracts I was reviewing.

"My mother went easy on her?"

"She called her a weakness and a threat. So... relatively easy, yes."

I almost smiled. Almost.

"Where is she now?"

"Maria's giving her the tour. The girl hasn't tried to run yet. Hasn't even asked about a phone."

Interesting. Most people in her situation would be looking for escape routes. Communication channels.

But not Mia.

Either she was smart enough to know it was pointless. Or she was already planning something.

"I want eyes on her," I said. "Always."

"Already arranged." Marco hesitated.

"Sir, about last night. Luca's visit. His comment about the scar—"

"I know what it meant."

"If he tries to impersonate you—"

"Then we'll deal with it." I closed the file.

"How different could we be to someone who just met me? She doesn't know my voice. My mannerisms. My tells."

"Exactly. Which makes her vulnerable."

"Or bait." I stood. "Where's Luca now?"

"His penthouse downtown. He has a meeting with the Costello family in an hour."

The Costellos. Our rivals. Old enemies of my father.

"Luca's making alliances," I said quietly.

"Against you?"

"Against the will. Against the inheritance. He's building his own army." I grabbed my jacket.

"Double our security. Check everyone's loyalty. And if anyone even looks like they're talking to Luca—"

"They disappear. Understood."

I headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Marco asked.

"To see my wife. We need to establish some ground rules."

Like: Don't trust anyone who looks like me.

MIA'S POV

Maria had shown me everything. The kitchens. The gym. The library. The gardens. The garage filled with cars worth more than my college tuition.

And the walls. Always the walls. High. Topped with cameras. Patrolled by armed guards.

"Can I go outside?" I asked. "To the gardens?"

"With guards, yes. Mr. Moretti's orders." Maria checked her watch.

"But not now. He's requested your presence in his office."

My stomach knotted.

"Why?"

"He didn't say. But when Mr. Moretti summons you, you don't ask questions. You go."

She led me back through the mansion. To the third floor. To a set of heavy wooden doors.

She knocked.

"Come in."

Dante's voice. Cold. Commanding.

Maria opened the door and gently pushed me inside. The door closed behind me.

Leaving me alone with my husband.

He sat behind a massive desk, laptop open, papers everywhere. He didn't look up when I entered.

"Sit," he said.

I sat in the chair across from him. Waited.

He finally closed his laptop. Looked at me.

Those gray eyes. Intense. Unreadable.

"My mother spoke with you this morning."

"Yes."

"What did she say?"

"That I'm a weakness. A threat. A liability." I met his gaze.

"Was she wrong?"

Something flickered across his face. Surprise, maybe.

"No. She was right."

"Then why marry me?"

"Because the alternative was losing everything." He stood. Walked around the desk. Leaned against it, looking down at me.

"But now that you're here, we need to establish rules."

"More rules?"

"These ones will keep you alive." He

crossed his arms.

"Rule one: You don't leave this property without my permission and my guards. Ever."

"I'm a prisoner."

"You're protected. There's a difference."

"Is there?"

He ignored that.

"Rule two: You don't communicate with anyone outside this house. No phone calls. No emails. No letters. Nothing."

"My parents—"

"Will be informed that you're safe.

That's all they need to know."

Anger flared in my chest. "You can't just cut me off from everyone I know—"

"I can. I am." He leaned closer.

"Rule three: You don't trust anyone. Not the servants. Not the guards. Not my mother. And especially not anyone who looks like me."

I blinked. "What?"

"My brother. Luca. We're identical twins. Same face. Same build. Same voice." His jaw tightened.

"There's only one way to tell us apart. This."

He touched the scar on his jaw. A thin line running from his ear to his chin.

"Luca doesn't have it," he said. "If you ever see someone who looks like me but doesn't have this scar, you run.

You scream. You do whatever you have to do to get away from him. Understand?"

My blood went cold. "Why would he pretend to be you?"

"Because in four weeks, whoever gets you pregnant wins the inheritance." He straightened.

"And my brother will do anything to win. Including tricking you into his bed."

The room spun.

"You're saying he might... pretend to be you? Sleep with me? And I wouldn't know?"

"Not if you're careful. Not if you check the scar. Every time." He moved back to his desk. "That's why you need to be vigilant. Always."

"This is insane."

"This is my world. And you're in it now."

I stood. My legs were shaking. "I didn't ask for any of this."

"No. You just took your sister's place and made it my problem." He sat down. Opened his laptop.

"Dismissed."

"Excuse me?"

"Leave. I have work to do."

"You can't just summon me, terrify me, and then dismiss me like—"

He looked up. And the coldness in his eyes made my words die in my throat.

"I can do whatever I want. You're my wife. My property. And the sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."

He turned back to his screen.

"Maria will show you to the library. Read. Study. Learn about this family. Because tomorrow, you have another test."

"What test?"

"Dinner with my business partners. You'll sit beside me. You'll be perfect. You'll convince everyone that this marriage is real." His fingers flew over the keyboard.

"Fail, and I'll make your family pay for your sister's cowardice. Succeed, and maybe—maybe—I'll let you call your mother. Once."

It was a carrot. A manipulation.

But God help me, I wanted to hear my mother's voice.

"Fine," I whispered.

"Good. Now get out."

I left.

In the hallway, I pressed my back against the wall and tried to breathe.

Check the scar. Every time.

What kind of nightmare had I walked into?

Where brothers looked identical and would use my body as a weapon in their war?

"Mrs. Moretti?"

I looked up. A man stood there. Tall. Dark hair. Gray eyes.

And no scar.

My heart stopped.

"Who are you?" I breathed.

He smiled. It was warm. Nothing like Dante's cold expressions.

"I'm Luca," he said. "Your husband's brother. And I think it's time we had a talk about exactly what Dante isn't telling you."

He extended his hand.

And I had to decide in that moment: Run and scream like Dante told me?

Or listen to the man who might be telling me the truth?