Luca was rendered speechless with fury.

Sienna wiped away her crocodile tears and shook her head, adopting the patronizing look of a socialite lecturing a naive child.

"Isabella, a wedding is a serious affair. This isn't some childish game of pretend.

"Don't be fooled because Matteo looks presentable. He's a misplaced spare. He'll be shipped back to whatever gutter he crawled out of soon enough. Don't ruin your life out of spite."

Her words snapped Luca back to his senses. The sickly pallor left his face, replaced by a cold, smooth calm.

He shot me a look of pure contempt. "You're embarrassing yourself, Isabella. Keep this tantrum up, and you'll be used and discarded.

"When that happens, don't bother crawling back to me on your knees. I won't want you."

With that final blow, he escorted Sienna out of City Hall, her arm tucked possessively in his.

As their smug silhouettes vanished, Matteo quietly released my hand. His voice was low, almost resigned. "He doesn't mean it. He's waiting for you to come to your senses."

"I know he is," I said flatly.

Five years. Even the love faded, I knew his pride, his anger, his patterns.

"But I'm not going back."

A year ago, he loved me fiercely. We were planning our future.

Then the Rossis came. They didn't just bring home a forgotten son—they revealed him as the true heir, the next Don, who was already promised to a flawless mafia princess from the rival Costello family.

Still, he fought them. He endured three days of their brutal regime—a test meant to break him—just to secure their permission to marry me.

He emerged half-dead, but he smiled through bloodied lips and held my hand. "No matter what I become in this family, you stand beside me as my equal."

I believed him. I thought that vow was carved in stone.

But one year in the gilded cage of the Rossi empire changed him. He became the polished, acknowledged heir.

And he let his fiancée move into our villa.

Icy politeness thawed into constant mentions of her. He let her redecorate the study I designed for him into a lounge for their vapid circle.

He didn't blink when she "accidentally" lost the first wallet I'd ever sewn for him.

And on the anniversary of my mother's death, while I kept a solitary vigil, he was at an auction with Sienna, bidding on a necklace she fancied.

That was the moment the last fragile thread snapped.

The boy who loved me was dead, buried under the weight of power and a more suitable bride.

I turned to Matteo, who had stood beside me in stoic silence. "I need you to understand something. I'm not doing this out of spite. I don't want a love that wavers. When I said I would be with you, I meant it."

Matteo's expression shifted. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and his dark eyes held a sudden, fierce intensity. He seized my hand, his grip almost painfully tight.

"Then listen to me. If you choose to walk my path, you will not lose. In any way."

I nodded, smiling faintly.

"Where do you live? I'll move in with you, if that's alright."

He didn't hesitate. He even came back with me to the villa to collect my things.

We opened the door to a wall of pulsing music and laughter.

Sienna and her clique had turned the living room into their personal nightclub. The music screeched to a halt as we entered.

One of her girl friends squealed dramatically.

"Isabella! Back so soon? Did your little walk of shame make you realize your mistake? Have you come here to beg Luca to take you back?"

I let out a cold laugh. "I'm just here to pack my things. I'm moving in with my husband."

The room fell silent. I didn't bother with them and headed straight upstairs. Matteo followed closely behind me.

"Isabella, stop right there!" Luca's voice thundered from behind, hot with rage.

"This is my house. And you're bringing an outsider into my bedroom?"

I paused and looked back.

"I'm married now. That makes me the outsider. So what's wrong with my husband helping me collect what's left of my life here?"

"Husband?" Sienna's friends burst into mocking laughter.

"She really said ‘husband'! She actually married the bastard!"

"Trash belongs with trash, I guess. How fitting."

Sienna glided forward, a wine glass dangling from her fingers, her face a mask of faux concern. "Don't say things you'll regret, darling. I know you're hurt, but you can't possibly be serious about going with him.

"He's a counterfeit. Go with him, and what—plan to sleep on the streets together?"

Before Matteo could answer, one of her friends cut in with a snicker.

"Oh, Sienna, don't worry! They won't be homeless. I hear Matteo has a charming place in the West End. Very… vibrant neighborhood."

"The West End?" Another girl fake-gasped. "That rat-infested slum? The red-light district?"

"Isabella, could you really stomach living in a place like that? You'd last a day."

Their cruel laughter echoed. Luca's face was a storm of anger and something else—shame, as if my defiance was a personal insult to his name.

"This is your last chance, Isabella," he ground out, each word clipped. "Go upstairs. Alone. Pack your tantrum away, and we'll forget this ever happened.

"Otherwise, when you come crawling back because you can't handle the filth—"

His eyes, which once held only me, were now filled with utter disdain.

"Whether I can handle it or not is no longer your concern."

I didn't look back. I took Matteo's hand and finished walking up the stairs.

Packing was quick. I'd arrived with little, and I'd accumulated little of true value.

After moving in with Luca, I always tried so hard to blend in. I couldn't afford luxury brands, and I was terrified of seeming poor. So aside from what he gave me, I bought nothing.

I had arrived with almost nothing. Leaving behind the things he'd given me, I was leaving with almost nothing too.

When we came back downstairs, everyone was still there.

Sienna spotted my tiny suitcase and laughed with disdain.

"All that talk about moving out, and that's all you're taking with you? I knew it. This is just a pathetic act of jealousy."

"Luca, I told you Isabella was just throwing a tantrum. She could never really leave you."

Luca's expression eased. He truly believed I was only bluffing out of pride.

He stepped forward, reaching for my suitcase.

"You're forgiven as long as you know you were wrong. Go upstairs, put your things back, and don't—"

I sidestepped, avoiding his hand.

"You're overthinking it. I only packed what belongs to me. I didn't take anything of yours. I'm not like you—I don't keep an ex's things."

With that, I took Matteo by the hand and walked straight toward the door without once looking back.

Behind me came Luca's enraged roar.

"Fine! Get out! And once you walk out, don't even think about coming back!"

I drove away and asked Matteo for his address.

He gave one—an ultra-luxury hotel in the city center.

I blinked, surprised.

"My place isn't convenient to bring you to right now," Matteo explained.

Hearing that, I quietly let out a breath.

Truthfully, I don't fear hardship, but the thought of immediately living with someone I barely know—even if we already had a marriage certificate—was too much for me.

Seeing me finally relax, Matteo secretly sent out a message that read: [Instruct everyone to treat me like a stranger. No special treatment.]

Then he powered off his phone.

Soon, we arrived at the hotel.

Although I didn't have much luggage, the bellboy insisted on giving me a cart. While politely declining his offer, I handed Matteo my card so he could book a room for me at the front desk.

After the luggage was safely upstairs, he handed me the room key.

I followed the number—and froze.

It was a lavish presidential suite.

How much was this going to cost?

I pressed a hand over my wallet, comforting myself: Think of it as a celebration for finally leaving Luca.

Oddly, I hadn't received any credit-card notification, but I'd been running around all day. I chalked it up to a system delay and didn't think further.

I began unpacking my things.

Once everything was in place, I glanced at the man beside me. After a moment of hesitation, I spoke.

"Thank you for today. It's late… you should stay here tonight."

Matteo paused, his gaze flickering toward the massive bed.

Realizing how ambiguous that sounded, I panicked.

"I—I mean another room! I'll pay for it!"

He laughed softly at my fluster.

"No need. I can afford a room. I'll stay next door. Call me if you need anything."

I slept soundly.

The next morning, I planned to discuss the wedding arrangements with him.

But the moment we stepped out of the hotel lobby, several police cars screeched to a stop, surrounding us.

Officers rushed forward and forced Matteo to the ground.

Startled, I ran to them.

"What are you doing? Why are you arresting him?"

The lead officer glanced at me, his expression grave.

"Are you Isabella Avellino? We received a report that this man used marriage as a pretense to commit large-scale financial fraud against you."

Fraud?

My mind went blank.

"That's impossible. Who reported it?"

And then a familiar voice cut through the air.

"I did."

Luca stormed out with Sienna clinging to him, both wearing furious expressions.

"Officers, that's him," Luca snapped. "A slum rat who tricked my fiancée into going to a hotel, then assaulted her and stole from her. His behavior is vile. Hurry up and take him away—let the law deal with this scum!"

I couldn't stop myself from screaming. "What nonsense are you spouting?! And how did you even know I was here?!"

Luca scoffed. "Did you forget your car's tracking app? It's still linked to me."

I wanted to curse him, but when I saw the police reaching for Matteo, I immediately stepped in front of them.

They couldn't take him. They must not take him.

"Wait! I'm perfectly aware and fully conscious. What evidence do you have to justify arresting him?

"Yes, I stayed at this hotel with Matteo last night," I continued firmly. "But we booked two separate rooms. They're smearing us on purpose. Nothing happened—both of us are completely innocent."

As I spoke to the officers, my gaze locked on Luca. He had called the police intentionally.

Matteo might have cut ties with the mafia family, but if the police took him to the station and dug into his identity, his past would resurface. The Rossi family would never help him—or spare him—again.

Sienna covered her mouth dramatically, pretending to worry.

"Two rooms don't guarantee you slept separately," she murmured. "Luca is just concerned for you. Isabella, you don't have to panic just because you lost your virtue."

I laughed coldly.

"Your concern is wasted on me. Lost virtue? Please. I'm legally married to Matteo. Meanwhile, you, Luca—calling me your fiancée while hanging off another woman—want the best of both worlds and failed, so you assume every man is as shameless as you?

"Even if we did sleep together, we're married. It would be perfectly justified."

Luca's face flushed red. He jabbed a trembling finger at me, shaking with rage.

The officers hesitated, especially after I showed them our marriage certificate.

Luca's fury crested—and then broke into a low, chilling laugh.

"Officers, look at her," he said, his voice dripping with false concern. "So thoroughly deceived she actually married the man. She's clearly not in her right mind."

He adjusted a diamond-studded cufflink with elegant disdain, letting the platinum face of his limited-edition watch flash in the sun before nodding toward the luxury car idling behind him. He never had to state he was the Rossi family's heir; his every gesture screamed old money and ruthless power.

"She broke off an engagement to me—to my family—for a penniless fraud. If that's not criminal manipulation, what is?"

The officers exchanged uncertain glances, visibly swayed by the sheer weight of his presence.

The sergeant in charge gave a slow, grim nod. "Leaving a man like you for… that. It does suggest undue influence. Probable cause is there." He motioned to his men. "Take him into custody."

"No!" I lunged forward, but Luca's security detail was faster, their hands like iron vises on my arms.

"Isabella, look carefully," Luca purred, sinking into a crouch before me. His fingers patted my cheek, a condescending, possessive gesture that made my skin crawl. "This is the man you chose. A convict. A rapist."

He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. "It's not too late. Get on your knees and beg my forgiveness. I might ask my father to be… lenient. He could get off with just a few years inside."

His smug triumph twisted my stomach into a knot of pure hatred.

I couldn't bear to see them put their hands on Matteo. I threw my weight against the guards, fighting with a desperation I didn't know I possessed.

My wrist scraped savagely against the rough pavement, skin tearing open in a bright, searing line of pain. Blood bloomed and smeared the concrete.

For the first time, Matteo's composure cracked. His brow furrowed sharply, a flash of something dangerous in his eyes.

"Isabella. Stop. Don't hurt yourself."

I froze, his commanding tone cutting through my panic. A wave of crushing guilt drowned me. This was my fault. I dragged him into this.

The officers shoved him toward the open door of the squad car. But Matteo didn't stumble. His gaze never left mine, burning with an intensity that held me still. With a subtle, practiced shift of his shoulders, he simply slipped their grasp.

The lead officer reddened, opening his mouth to bark an order—

The sound that cut him off wasn't a shout.

It was the thunderous roar of high-performance engines.

Several luxury cars sped toward us, drifting in a flawless arc that blocked the road completely.

Everyone—police and bystanders—fell silent in shock.

The door of the lead car swung upward like a butterfly taking flight.

A polished black leather shoe touched the ground.

Surrounded by a formation of bodyguards, a silver-haired, powerfully built elderly gentleman stepped out with unshakable composure.