The car ride was silent.
Too silent.
Racilee sat stiffly by the window, her hands clenched in her lap as the city lights of Milan blurred past.
Everything felt unreal.
Too fast.
Too final.
Across from her, Luciano De Luca sat like a man untouched by chaos—calm, composed, as if forcing someone into marriage was just another part of his daily routine.
She hated that.
Hated how unaffected he looked.
"You're quiet," he said suddenly.
Racilee didn't turn. "I have nothing to say to you."
A pause.
Then—
"That will change."
Her jaw tightened.
"Don't count on it."
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, but he said nothing more.
The car slowed.
Then stopped.
Racilee looked up.
And her breath caught.
The gates were massive—black iron, towering, guarded. Beyond them stood a mansion that looked less like a home and more like a fortress.
Cold.
Untouchable.
Just like him.
The gates opened slowly.
And as the car drove in—
Racilee felt it again.
That same feeling from earlier.
Like she wasn't entering a house.
But a cage.
The moment the car door opened, cold air hit her skin.
She stepped out slowly, her eyes scanning everything.
Guards.
Cameras.
Silence.
Everything here was controlled.
"Welcome home," Luciano said behind her.
She turned sharply. "This is not my home."
"It is now."
"I didn't choose this."
"No," he agreed calmly. "I did."
That shut her up.
Not because she had nothing to say—
But because she realized something worse.
He meant it.
Inside, the mansion was even more intimidating.
Marble floors.
High ceilings.
Everything spotless.
Empty.
Too empty.
Racilee wrapped her arms around herself slightly. "Where is everyone?"
Luciano walked past her. "This isn't a place for noise."
Her stomach twisted.
Of course it wasn't.
He stopped at the center of the grand hall and turned to face her.
"Before anything else," he said, "there are rules."
Racilee let out a quiet, sarcastic laugh. "Of course there are."
His expression didn't change.
"You will listen."
Something in his tone made her go still.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
But something close.
Luciano stepped closer.
"Rule one," he said. "You do not leave this house without my permission."
Her eyes flashed. "That's not happening."
"It already is."
Her hands curled into fists.
"Rule two," he continued, unfazed, "you do not question my decisions in front of others."
She scoffed. "So I'm just supposed to stay quiet and obedient?"
"If you value your safety—yes."
That hit harder than expected.
Racilee swallowed.
But she didn't back down.
"And what happens if I break your rules?"
For the first time—
He smiled.
But there was nothing warm about it.
"You won't like the consequences."
A chill ran down her spine.
"Rule three," he said.
This time, his voice dropped slightly.
"You do not enter my private wing."
Racilee frowned. "Why?"
Silence.
Then—
"Because what's in there… doesn't concern you."
That only made her more curious.
"And finally…"
He stepped closer.
Too close.
Her breath hitched, but she refused to move.
"You do not lie to me."
Their eyes locked.
"Because I always find out."
The intensity in his voice made something in her chest tighten.
But she forced a smirk.
"Good thing I don't plan on telling you anything."
For a second—
He just looked at her.
Then he leaned slightly closer, his voice barely above a whisper.
"That's where you're wrong."
Her heart skipped.
Why did that sound like a warning?
A maid suddenly appeared beside them.
"Sir, the room is ready."
Luciano nodded.
Then looked back at Racilee.
"Take her."
Racilee stepped back immediately. "I'm not going anywhere with—"
"Now."
The single word cut her off.
The maid gently took her arm.
Racilee hesitated.
Then pulled away slightly.
"I can walk myself."
Luciano didn't respond.
He just watched her.
Always watching.
The room she was taken to was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
Soft lights.
Large bed.
Everything perfect.
Everything wrong.
The door clicked shut behind her.
And just like that—
She was alone.
Minutes passed.
Or maybe hours.
She couldn't tell.
Her mind was racing too fast.
This wasn't real.
It couldn't be.
But the ring on her finger said otherwise.
Racilee stared at it.
Then yanked it off.
"I'm not his," she whispered.
She turned—
And froze.
There was something on the table beside the bed.
A file.
Her name on it.
Her heart began to pound.
Slowly, she walked toward it.
Opened it.
And everything inside her world stopped.
Photos.
Of her.
Old ones.
Recent ones.
At school.
At home.
At places she never noticed anyone watching.
Her hands started shaking.
"What…?"
There were notes too.
Detailed.
Her habits.
Her routines.
Her life.
Tracked.
Watched.
Studied.
A cold realization hit her like a storm.
This wasn't random.
This wasn't just about her father's debt.
Her breath came out uneven.
"No…"
The door opened behind her.
She spun around.
Luciano stood there.
Calm as ever.
Like this was nothing.
Racilee held up the file, her voice shaking now—not from fear, but something deeper.
"Why do you have this?"
Silence.
Then he stepped inside, closing the door slowly.
"You weren't supposed to see that yet."
Her heart dropped.
"Answer me!" she snapped.
For the first time—
Something real flickered in his eyes.
Not cold.
Not distant.
Something darker.
More personal.
He stopped in front of her.
Close.
Too close.
Then he said the one thing that shattered everything she thought she knew—
"I didn't choose you because of your father's debt."
Her breath caught.
"What…?"
His gaze locked onto hers.
"I chose you," he said quietly, "because I've been watching you for a long time."
The room spun.
"That's not possible…"
But deep down—
She knew it was.
Because the evidence was in her hands.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Why me?"
A pause.
Then—
"You'll find out."