"Bruno won't ask you to be his actual bride."
The laughter dies in my throat.
"He doesn't want anyone close," she says. "He's been like this since... since everything happened. He pushes everyone away. Family. Friends. Anyone who tries to reach him."
I stare at her.
"So when I say stay away from him, I mean—" She exhales. "He'll make it easy. He won't seek you out. He won't expect anything from you. You'll have your own space. Your own life, as much as that's possible in the compound."
"That's fine with me," I hear myself say.
Vittoria tilts her head.
"I don't want him either." The words come out flat. Empty. "I don't even know him."
"Good." Vittoria nods slowly. "That's... good. It'll be easier that way."
Easier.
I want to laugh again. Nothing about this is easy.
I'm twenty-one years old. I just married a stranger to save my family from my father's debts. I'm leaving everything I know to live in a compound full of people who see me as a transaction.
"The compound is about thirty minutes from here," Vittoria says. She's watching me again. Studying my face. "Someone will show you to your room when we arrive. You'll have your own space. Bruno's room is in a different wing."
Different wing.
Of course.
"There's staff," she continues. "Giulia runs the household. She's been with the family for decades. She'll help you settle in."
I nod again.
It's becoming a habit. Nodding. Agreeing. Going along with whatever I'm told.
That's what good daughters do.
That's what good wives do.
I stare out the window. Trees blur past. The city fades behind us, replaced by open roads and expensive estates.
My old life disappears with every mile.
Bruno
I stare at my phone.
The screen glows in the dim light of my room. Everyone's done their part by now. Vittoria would have talked to her. Giulia would have shown her to her room. Made sure she had everything she needed.
Clean sheets. Fresh towels. A closet full of clothes she didn't pick.
All the things that make a cage comfortable.
Now it's my turn.
I don't want to do this. Don't want to see her face again. Don't want to watch her eyes drop to my chair and stay there.
But I have to.