Abby's POV

My real life, my twenty-five years of experience, was screaming at me! This man was my only way out. It was either him, or I'd be dead again at twenty-five. I'd survived a bullet, a three-story fall, and time itself just to get here. I couldn't be a scared little girl now.

I had to take the chance.

"Can you give me a shot?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.

His eyebrow shot up, a trace of dark amusement in his eyes. "A shot?" he repeated, his voice a low, mocking rumble. "You know, I don't usually hit young girls, Ms. Sinclair, no matter how... theatrical they are."

"I'm not a child," I snapped. "I'm twenty."

"Exactly." He didn't even look at me, his gaze fixed on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. He drove with a controlled speed, as if he knew exactly where he was going and nothing in the world could stop him. "You're twenty," he said, his voice dangerously soft. Then, almost to himself, he whispered, "And I'm thirty-seven."

A dark smirk touched his lips. "We met ten minutes ago, Ms. Sinclair. I pulled you out of a very public fire, and now you're... what? Asking for favors? That's a bold play."

"Too much?" I laughed, a bitter, sharp sound that surprised even me. "You're worried about favors? You have no idea what's at stake."

I bit my lip, my mind racing. He was going to dump me at the next corner. I had maybe ten seconds to convince him.

I turned in my seat, facing him fully. "I don't want to marry Nicholas Anderson. Not in this life, not ever." I met his dark, unreadable gaze. "You didn't just 'help me,' Mr. Romano. You're my only way out. So, if you're in the market for a wife... I'm available. And I'm legal."

He literally choked, a harsh cough escaping him as he inhaled his own breath. The Maybach screeched as he slammed on the brakes and swerved to the curb.

He stared at me, his composure finally shattered, as if I'd grown a second head. He rubbed a thumb hard against his temple.

"You... what?" he finally managed, his voice strained with disbelief. "Young heiress, have you completely lost your mind?"

"Maybe," I said, shrugging, the motion jerky. "If I have, do you have a cure?"

I took a deep, shuddering breath. This was it. I had to be bolder. I was desperate.

I would not die at twenty-five. I would not be tangled up with that monster ever again.

He let out a heavy sigh, but before he could form a rejection, I cut him off.

"Of course," I said, my voice sharp, "if you're too scared of him, just say no to my offer."

That wiped the smirk clean off his face. His jaw tightened, and he massaged his temple again.

"I'm not 'scared' of Anderson," he bit out, his voice dangerously low. "But I don't want to get involved in a childish, third-wheel drama."

I raised an eyebrow. "This isn't 'drama,' Mr. Romano. This is a business deal. My family is selling me to him. I just need a new buyer... someone he won't dare to challenge."

His eyes narrowed, clearly surprised by my cold choice of words. "'A new buyer'? Do you realize how arrogant you sound?"

"Maybe." My chin lifted. "But it's the truth. I am not marrying Nicholas Anderson. My family has sealed the deal, and I'm just looking for a loophole. You're my loophole."

He went completely still. The annoyance faded, and the businessman looked back at me. Cold. Calculating.

"A loophole," he repeated. "And what's in it for me?"

"I'll be your wife," I said, my voice finally steady. "I'll be Mrs. Romano."

He just smirked, a slow, condescending curve of his lips. I could see exactly what he was thinking: I was just a crazy, spoiled heiress in over her head. He thought I had nothing left to bargain with.

He was wrong.

"Can I borrow your phone?" I asked, my voice softening just a fraction.

He nodded, handing it over without hesitation. I quickly typed in my number.

"That's my number," I said, passing it back. "I'll be waiting for your call, Mr. Romano."

His eyes glanced at the screen before he pocketed the phone, his attention back on the road. "Where do you want to go?"

"Just take me home. The Sinclair Residence."

He nodded once, his voice laced with dry sarcasm. "Oh, right. The princess's tower."

He drove me to the massive iron gates of the estate. As the car idled, I turned to him. "Hopefully, you won't keep me waiting too long..."

I let a small, challenging smile play on my lips, my 25-year-old self in full control. "I wouldn't mind a trip down to the civil affairs bureau. 'Mrs. Romano' sounds pretty good to me."

I watched his throat move as he swallowed, his mask of cold indifference slipping for just a second. He looked genuinely floored by my arrogance, by how bold I was being.

He just stared for a beat, then gave a single, curt nod. "Have a good night, Ms. Sinclair."

Then he was gone, the Maybach disappearing into the night, leaving me alone on the curb.

The moment I stepped inside the villa, I was hit by a wall of noise. The hallway was buzzing with panicked voices-all of them, I knew, were talking about me.

Suddenly, my half-sister Erina's eyes widened. She spotted me, stormed across the foyer, and grabbed my arm.

"What the fuck have you just done?!" she hissed, her voice a mixture of outrage and panic. "Mom and Dad are losing their minds! You vanished from your own proposal, and you left? With Matteo Romano? Are you completely insane?!"

This, coming from the woman who had been fucking Nicholas behind my back for who knows how long.

I scoffed, pulling my arm from her grasp.

"Oh, yeah," I said, my voice dripping with an exhaustion she mistook for confusion. "I've totally lost it." I leaned in, giving her a cold, sweet smile. "You know what? Why don't you marry him? Hmm?"

Abby's POV

Before Erina could even sputter an answer, my stepmother arrived, dragging my father, George, in her wake.

Josefina's glare was murderous. She looked at me as if I had just personally set fire to the family name. She was furious I'd ruined her big night-her public announcement that she'd successfully shackled me to that... fucker.

Her hand snapped up, aimed straight for my face.

I caught her wrist mid-air.

The hallway went silent. Josefina's eyes widened in pure shock. She looked confused, thrown.

Of course she was. In my past life, I would have flinched. I would have taken the slap. The old Abby, the girl who always said yes to every request, the girl who always obeyed... she was dead.

Josefina ripped her hand from my grip, her face turning purple. "How could you do this to our family?! You are ruining our reputation!"

My father, George, finally sighed from the corner, his voice heavy with disappointment. "You are still going to marry him, Abigail. This... tantrum," he said, "changes nothing."

Just then, the front door burst open. Nicholas stood there, his chest heaving, his perfect suit rumpled. It looked like he'd floored it just to get here. The charming mask was gone, replaced by a furious glare.

"Why," he seethed, "would you do that to me?!"

"I told you," I said, my voice heavy. "I don't want to marry you." I was trying so hard to stay calm, to keep my hands from shaking, but these people... my God, they were getting on my nerves.

"Y-You..." My father clutched his chest, his face turning a blotchy red. He looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.

Nicholas's expression shifted instantly. He saw my father and went into damage-control mode, his voice dropping into that familiar, condescending tone. "Abby, darling, don't say things you'll regret. I don't know what's gotten into you... just tell the press you were overwhelmed, and we can fix this. We can still get married."

I scoffed. They were all staring at me in stunned silence, probably thinking I'd finally gone insane.

"You're right," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "As soon as I walked in, everyone had their verdict ready, blaming me for everything." I let my gaze drift from Nicholas to Erina. "All I did was give you exactly what you wanted. Isn't that enough?"

Nicholas froze.

"I'm calling off the engagement," I announced to the room. "But it's not like you're out of options." I glanced at Erina, who was trying to blend into the wallpaper. "You still have another daughter to sell."

"Abby..." Erina whispered, staring at me in disbelief. The whole room was looking at me like I'd just grown a second head.

"Abby..." Nicholas stepped toward me, his hand outstretched for a false concern.

The moment his fingers brushed my arm, I flinched so hard I stumbled back. No. Never. I would not let that man touch me. He killed me.

I turned to run, to get out of this house, but the front door opened again.

Matteo Romano stood on the threshold, leaning against the doorframe as if he owned it. He took in the scene-my father's rage, my stepmother's fury, Nicholas's shock, and me, poised for flight.

"Wow," he said, his voice a deep, amused drawl. "Seems like I picked a bad time to drop in. Or did I just crash the party?"

What is he doing here? I thought, my heart hammering. He left. I watched him leave.

Matteo's gaze scanned the room and landed directly on me. He must have seen the tears welling in my eyes, because he ignored my family-ignored Nicholas completely-and walked straight toward me.

In one smooth motion, he shrugged off his expensive suit coat and draped it over my shoulders. His warmth, and the clean, masculine scent of him, enveloped me.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" he asked, his voice low, meant only for me.

I looked up, stunned, meeting his intense gaze. "What are you doing here?"

"You dropped this." He held out my mother's necklace-the simple gold heirloom I dropped in his car.

A genuine, shaky smile touched my lips. I took it from his hand, its familiar weight a comfort, and slipped it safely into my pocket. "Thank you."

Nicholas exploded.

"Since when?" he spat, his face contorting with rage. "Since when are you and Matteo so close? Is this why you humiliated me?! Have you been cheating on me with him all this time, Abby?!"

I scoffed and turned back to Nicholas. Perfect. He finally had his narrative, his perfect excuse to paint me as the villain. Fine.

"Well, since you're so eager to know," I said, my voice sweet as poison, "I've got to say, Mr. Romano is pretty decent. If you're that desperate to cast yourself as the victim, Nicholas, I'll happily be the villain. For old time's sake."

"What the fuck, Abby!" he roared, fully committing to his outraged performance. "Are you accusing me of cheating? Is that why you chose him?! This is nonsense!"

"Why don't you ask my half-sister?" I said, my voice dropping to a cool, quiet level. I let my gaze slide over to Erina. "Go on, Nicholas. Ask her."

Erina's face flushed a violent, blotchy red. Her eyes were wide with pure panic. "Have you lost your mind, Abby?!" she shrieked. "How could you-"

But before she could finish her lie, my father, George, exploded. He lunged, roaring in incoherent anger, his hand raised to strike me.

He never made contact.

In a movement so fast I barely registered it, Matteo moved. He put himself directly between us, shielding me with his body. He didn't say a word, just stood there-an immovable, dangerous wall protecting me from my own family.

My father jabbed a finger at Matteo's chest. "Move away!" he roared.

Matteo didn't flinch. He just smiled, but that didn't reach his eyes. "Sorry, future father-in-law," he said, his voice a low, smooth drawl that cut right through the shouting. "I can't let you hurt my future wife."