Chapter 2

Vivian cornered me that night in my bedroom, slamming the door shut.

"Sera, switch with me. You don't understand — Luca Moretti isn't what you think."

Her voice shook, but her eyes were calculating.

"He's dangerous, violent, possessive. He'll lock you up and never let you leave."

I sat at my vanity, brushing my hair calmly.

"Sounds like you know him well for someone who's never met him."

Vivian faltered. She caught herself quickly.

"Everyone knows his reputation. I'm trying to protect you."

"Like you protected me when you suggested I marry Damien?"

Silence.

In my past life, this exact conversation had happened in reverse. Vivian had cried, begged, told me Luca would kill me. I'd believed every word and agreed to swap.

This time, I watched her performance with new eyes. Every tear was calculated. Every tremble was rehearsed.

"Sera, please. I'll do anything."

"Then marry Damien with a smile and stop bothering me."

Vivian's mask cracked. For a split second, I saw the real her — vicious, entitled, murderous.

"You'll regret this," she hissed.

"Maybe. But at least I'll be alive to regret it."

She stormed out.

The next morning, Father called us both to breakfast. He announced that Vivian's engagement to Damien Cross was finalized.

Damien himself showed up — tall, golden-haired, blue-eyed, with a smile that could charm the devil. He brought Vivian flowers and kissed her hand.

"I'm the luckiest man alive," he said smoothly.

Vivian played along, smiling and blushing. But under the table, her fists were clenched so tight her knuckles went white.

She knew what Damien was. A man who'd fuck you sweetly for a month and then sell you to the highest bidder.

I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

"Sera, a word?"

Damien caught me in the hallway after breakfast, his hand on my wrist. His grip was firm, his smile too wide.

"I have to say, I was hoping you'd be my bride. Vivian is lovely, but you... you're something else."

His thumb stroked my pulse point. In my past life, this charm had worked perfectly. I'd blushed, stuttered, fallen for every honeyed word.

Now his touch made my skin crawl.

"Remove your hand, Mr. Cross. I'm engaged to Luca Moretti."

I said his name deliberately, watching Damien's smile freeze.

Everyone feared the Moretti name. Even snakes like Damien.

He released me, chuckling nervously.

"Of course. My apologies."

That evening, Luca sent a car to take me to dinner at the Moretti estate.

The mansion was enormous — old money, dark stone, iron gates. Armed guards at every entrance. Inside, the décor was minimal but every piece cost more than Father's entire house.

Luca was waiting in the dining room, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms corded with muscle and tattoos that crawled up past his elbows.

He pulled my chair out himself.

"I don't do this for anyone," he said flatly. "Don't get used to it."

But he did it again the next night. And the night after.

During dinner, he studied me with those cold grey eyes.

"Your sister tried to contact my underboss today. Offered herself as a replacement bride."

I set down my fork.

"What did you say?"

"I said I already chose my wife."

His eyes held mine. No warmth, but absolute certainty.

"Sera, I won't pretend this is love. It's an alliance. Your father's political connections, my family's power. But I keep my deals."

"So do I," I said.

Something shifted in his expression — surprise, maybe. Like he hadn't expected that answer.

As I left that night, his hand caught my waist at the door. He leaned down, lips grazing my ear.

"One more thing. Whatever your sister is planning — I already know."

My breath hitched.

"And Sera? Nobody touches what's mine."