I tossed my phone down, got dressed—actually dressed—and hit a bar. First time in forever.
Carlotta, my bestie, just blinked at me. "Lara? You're the one who freaks out over Marco's moods. You're getting married. And you show up here looking like that? You know he hates this place. You trying to start a war?"
I watched the hot guys onstage move to the beat and knocked back my drink.
"What's his temper got to do with me? I handed the marriage contract to Bella."
Her jaw dropped.
"Starting today, being happy isn't illegal. And freedom? That's priceless. Tell me why Marco even compares to these dancing hunks."
Carlotta didn't laugh.
She went pale.
Slowly, she pointed behind me.
I turned—met Marco's ice-cold stare.
"You block me so you can grind on these little boy toys?"
Before I could move, he shut out the screams, grabbed me, hauled me out like I weighed nothing, and tossed me into his car.
Engine roared.
"My rule," he said, voice low and deadly, "you're home before eleven. You break it? Ten thousand words. Reflect. And don't test me again."
The air around him felt like a loaded gun.
I didn't flinch.
Last life, I thought the ice was fake. Thought somewhere under all that control, Marco loved me.
So I stayed. Lived by his rules. Choked on them.
Not this time. I know better.
"I'm not writing anything. I'm not the one marrying you. Your rules? Not my problem."
He slammed the brakes. The car jerked.
He turned, eyes dark, something twisting under the surface.
After a beat, he bit out, "What the hell are you talking about?"
Seeing Mr. Ice-Cold lose his cool?
Yeah. That felt good.
I thought about it. He hates me—the ridiculous fiancée he got stuck with.
If I told him right now that sweet, obedient Bella had taken my place, wouldn't that just make him happy faster?
Hard pass.
I kept my mouth shut and stared out the window.
Obviously, he didn't take me seriously.
The car stopped in front of my house.
"The reflection essay," he said flat. "On my desk tomorrow."
I let out a cold laugh, stepped out, and walked away.
I hadn't even hit the door when Dad stormed out.
"Have you lost your mind?" he snapped. "Marco's a Don. You know how many families would kill for that alliance? And you wanna call off the engagement?"
Bella stood off to the side, all soft eyes and fake concern.
"Lara, please. Don't be reckless. You can't throw away our family's future over a mood."
I laughed and looked straight at Dad—Vittorio Leone. "Relax. If I don't marry him, you've still got your side chick's daughter.
"She's been playing sweet and obedient just to marry into power. She's way more suitable than me.
"Or what—you scared the Grimaldis won't claim an illegitimate daughter, so you don't dare bring up the switch?"
Bella froze.
Dad's face went tight—guilt, then rage.
"Lara Leone!" he barked. "You think this engagement depends on you? I'll go to the Grimaldi estate right now and settle it!"
He grabbed Bella and dragged her out.
At the door, he threw one last shot. "With that temper, once you leave Marco, no decent family will want you. Don't come crying when you regret it!"
He had no idea.
His words don't land anymore.
Compared to being trapped in that car—watching the man I loved carry my father's other daughter while I bled out—this?
Nothing.
I went upstairs and slept like a baby.
***
The doorbell dragged me out of sleep at dawn.
Marco stood there, sharp suit, colder than the morning. First words out of his mouth—"The reflection."
I yawned. "Didn't write it. Won't."
His jaw tightened. "When are you gonna learn how to behave?"
"Marco. Not in this lifetime."
That hit him. I don't push back. He knows it.
Before he could press, Bella stepped in. Guess she'd come back at some point.
"Marco, don't blame Lara." Soft. Sweet. Always sweet.
She handed him a neat little letter. "She was in a bad mood last night. I wrote it for her. Take a look."
Marco took the letter. His eyes stayed on me, colder now.
"You grew up in the same house. Why can't you learn from your sister? Be obedient. Have some discipline. Don't let this happen again. Go change. You're coming with me to the reception."
No pause. No hesitation. "I'm not going. Aren't you happier with Bella? Take her."
That did it. His voice turned sharp. "Lara Leone. You're the fiancée my family chose."
Chosen.
Last life, he married me for the contract. Not love. If he'd been free, he would've picked Bella.
Fine. I'll give him what he wants.
I held his gaze. "Marco Grimaldi, I'm not your fiancée anymore."
The shock in his eyes? Clear as day.
