Elena POV:
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and stale lies.
I wasn't sick. I was hiding.
After the dinner, I had feigned a collapse. Stress, the doctor said. Exhaustion.
It had bought me a private room and twenty-four hours away from Dante.
But even here, I couldn't escape.
The door slammed open.
Dante marched in, holding a massive bouquet of lilies. Funeral flowers.
"Stop with the drama, Elena," he said, tossing the flowers onto the foot of the bed with a careless flick of his wrist. "The doctor said you're fine."
"I'm resting," I said, not looking up from my book.
"You're hiding," he sneered. "Because you know you lost."
He walked to the side of the bed, looming over me like a dark cloud.
"Sofia moved in today," he said.
My heart skipped a beat, but I kept my face carefully blank.
"Into the estate?"
"Into my wing," he said, a cruel smile touching his lips. "She's pregnant, Elena."
There it was. The trap.
In my last life, she hadn't conceived until after we were married. She was accelerating the timeline.
"Congratulations," I said flatly. "I hope the baby has your hairline and her morals."
Dante grabbed my wrist. His grip was bruising, intended to silence.
"You will marry me," he hissed. "And you will raise that child as your own. Because no one else wants a spoiled, used-up princess."
"Is that so?"
The voice came from the doorway.
Deep. Baritone. Absolutely lethal.
Dante froze.
He released my wrist as if burned and spun around.
Matteo Moretti leaned against the doorframe.
He wasn't wearing a suit today. He had traded the corporate armor for something far more dangerous: a black leather jacket and dark jeans. He looked like death on a motorcycle.
Two massive bodyguards stood in the hallway behind him, silent sentinels.
"Moretti," Dante said, his voice cracking on the second syllable. "What are you doing here?"
"Visiting the sick," Matteo said.
He walked into the room, ignoring Dante completely.
He stopped at the foot of my bed.
He picked up the lilies Dante had thrown there.
"Lilies," Matteo mused, twirling a stem between his fingers. "Bad luck. They invite death."
He dropped them into the trash can with a dull thud.
"I didn't know you knew my fiancée," Dante said, trying to puff out his chest.
Matteo looked at Dante then. A slow, dismissive look that stripped Dante of every ounce of dignity.
"Fiancée?" Matteo asked. "I heard the engagement was broken."
"Just a lover's quarrel," Dante said quickly. "We are very happy."
"She doesn't look happy," Matteo said.
He walked to the side of the bed where Dante had been standing.
Dante stepped back instinctively. The predator recognizing the apex predator.
Matteo looked down at me.
His eyes were dark, burning with a secret we shared.
"Hello, Elena," he said.
"Matteo," I breathed.
"I heard you were looking for a new alliance," he said.
Dante laughed nervously. "Elena? She doesn't make alliances. She's just a girl."
"She is a Vitiello," Matteo said, his eyes never leaving mine. "And she called for a sit-down."
Dante looked at me, betrayal and shock warring on his face. "You called him?"
"I did," I said.
"Why?" Dante screamed.
"Because," Matteo answered for me. He reached out and took my hand. His palm was warm, rough, and reassuring.
He lifted my hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles with a reverence Dante had never shown.
"Because she knows a king when she sees one," Matteo said. "And she's tired of playing with jesters."
Matteo turned to Dante.
"Get out," he said softly.
"This is Vitiello territory," Dante blustered.
"Not anymore," Matteo said. "Check your phone, Genovese. Your shell company just got raided by the Feds. And your father is looking for someone to blame."
Dante went white.
He scrambled for his phone, backing out of the room like a cornered rat.
When he was gone, the silence in the room wasn't heavy. It was electric.
Matteo looked down at me.
"You act fast," he said.
"I told you," I said, squeezing his hand. "I want him ruined."
"He is," Matteo said. "And now... the debt comes due."
He sat on the edge of the bed.
"Your brother set the meeting," Matteo said. "But the price has gone up."
"What is it?" I asked.
Matteo leaned in, his lips brushing my ear.
"Marriage," he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. "To me. Next week."
I closed my eyes.
Out of the frying pan, into the fire.
But this fire... this fire I could control.
"Deal," I said.
Matteo smiled against my skin.
"Good," he said. "Because I already bought the ring."
