Outside the chapel, the sunlight glared harshly.

Leo's security team opened the car door for me with deference.

It wasn't Leo's wedding car.

A menacing black iris flower was emblazoned on the vehicle's side.

The Marcello family's emblem.

I lifted my gown and stepped inside.

Through the window, I caught a fleeting glimpse of Leo.

He was helping Isabella into another car.

He opened the door for her, adjusted her dress, his eyes brimming with tenderness.

Even from a distance, I could feel his devotion.

My heart sank to its lowest depths in that moment.

The car started moving slowly.

I took one last look at the chapel I had once dreamed of, then pulled the curtain shut with resolve.

Goodbye, Leo.

Goodbye, my pitiful, laughable love.

The convoy stopped before a heavily guarded estate.

This was Alessandro's domain.

The door opened, and a man in a black suit offered his hand. "Madam, Mr. Marcello is waiting for you."

I placed my hand in his.

His grip was steady, his palm calloused from years of handling a gun.

He led me into a lavish hall.

The ceiling bore Renaissance-style frescoes.

The floor gleamed with polished marble.

The air carried the scent of cigars, laced with a faint trace of blood.

A man sat on a sofa in the center of the hall, his back to me.

He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, his tall frame imposing.

Even from behind, his presence was overwhelming.

"Mr. Marcello, she's here."

The man didn't turn.

He toyed with a gold lighter, its clicks sharp and deliberate.

Each sound struck my heart.

"Lift your head." His voice was low and gravelly, like the deepest string of a cello.

I raised my head as he commanded.

He turned slowly.

A face so strikingly handsome it bordered on sinister met my gaze.

Deep blue eyes held the intensity of a stormy sea.

Beneath a sharp nose, his lips were full and alluring.

This was Alessandro.

The infamous madman who killed without blinking.

He approached me, his eyes roaming my face.

His gaze felt like a scalpel, slicing through me layer by layer.

I forced myself to meet his stare, showing no fear.

He suddenly smiled. "Leo's little fiancée? You've got some nerve."

My heart plummeted.

He knew.

He had known from the start that I wasn't Isabella.

Leo's so-called "protection" was nothing but a cruel farce.

"It seems the future daughter-in-law of Councilman Kennedy isn't worth much to him." Alessandro's fingertip grazed the diamond necklace around my neck. "Trading you for his true love's freedom. How does that feel, Ava?"

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. "Mr. Marcello, since you know everything, why…"

"Why play along with his charade?" he finished for me.

He leaned closer, his warm breath brushing my ear.

"Because, compared to that ordinary Isabella," he paused, his voice tinged with amusement, "I'm far more interested in you."

My mind went blank.

Alessandro's words hit like a bomb, exploding in my ears.

He wanted me from the start?

How could that be?

I was just an obscure street artist, nothing but Leo's fiancée.

What could he possibly want from me?

"Surprised?" Alessandro straightened, savoring my stunned expression.

He walked to a liquor cabinet and poured two glasses of whiskey. "Three months ago, the graffiti wall in Eastside."

He handed me a glass. "A painting called Caged Bird."

My pupils contracted sharply.

I had painted that.

It showed a bird trapped in a golden cage, its feathers vibrant but its eyes full of despair.

I created it on the anniversary of my engagement to Leo.

That day, he took me to a high-society gala.

Glamorous dresses, clinking glasses, everyone wearing polished masks.

I felt like an outsider, out of place.

Leo was busy networking, leaving me alone.

I watched him charm politicians and elites with ease.

In that moment, he felt like a stranger.

I realized we belonged to different worlds.

Marrying him was like stepping into a gilded prison.

So, I painted Caged Bird.

After finishing it, I never spoke of it to anyone.

How did Alessandro know?

"That bird was you, wasn't it?" His voice pulled me from my memories.

I didn't answer.

"Desperate, yet defiant." He took a sip of whiskey, a strange glint in his blue eyes. "Fascinating."

So, because of one painting, this volatile man orchestrated this elaborate scheme to bring me to his side?

It was absurd.

"Leo's a fool." Alessandro set down his glass. "He handed over the only thing of value he had."

The only thing of value…

Was that me?

Looking at this man, I felt a bone-deep chill for the first time.

He wasn't a madman.

He was a meticulous hunter, controlling everything.

Leo, Isabella, me—we were all pawns on his chessboard.

"As of today, you are Mrs. Marcello." His tone left no room for argument.

"And you? What do you want with me?" I asked.

"What?" He raised an eyebrow. "To have you do what a wife does, of course."

His gaze roamed over me, bold and predatory.

I stepped back instinctively, clutching the hem of my wedding gown.

He laughed. "Relax. I won't touch you until you're willing. I enjoy watching my prey struggle."

He turned, leaving me with his cold, unyielding silhouette. "Take Mrs. Marcello to her room."

A maid led me to a second-floor bedroom.

The room was spacious and ornate, yet it felt starkly empty.

Outside the balcony, a vast rose garden stretched endlessly.

The red roses bloomed vividly, almost unnaturally.

I shed my wedding gown and slipped into a silk nightdress the maid had prepared.

Exhausted, I lay on the soft bed but couldn't sleep.

Leo, Isabella, Alessandro…

Their faces flickered through my mind.

My life had been upended completely.

Hours later, my phone vibrated.

It was Leo.

I stared at his name flashing on the screen, hesitated, then answered.

"Ava!" Leo's voice came through, laced with urgency and panic. "Are you okay? Has he done anything to you?"

I stayed silent, saying nothing.

Leo's voice grew more frantic on the other end. "Ava, say something! Don't scare me!"

"I'm fine." I finally spoke, my voice flat as still water.

Leo let out a sigh of relief.

"Good, good…" he muttered. "Ava, just hold on a little longer. I'm working on it. My father's negotiating with the Marcello family. We'll get you back soon."

I tugged at the corner of my mouth, a bitter smile forming.

He still thought he had everything under control.

How pathetic.

"Leo," I said softly, "is Isabella okay?"

The line went quiet.

After a few seconds, he answered. "Everything went smoothly. Isabella… she's safe."

"Good."

"Ava, you…"

"I'm tired. I want to rest." I cut him off.

"Okay, okay. Get some rest. Don't overthink." Leo's voice carried a hint of pleading. "Wait for my call."

I hung up and tossed the phone aside.

How long would this charade go on?

I didn't know.

I only knew that the moment I stepped into this estate, there was no going back.

The next day, I woke to searing pain.

My stomach twisted, as if stabbed by countless needles.

It was my old problem, cramps during period.

They always left me writhing in agony.

Before, Leo would make me ginger tea, hold a hot water bottle to my stomach, cradle me in his arms, and lull me to sleep.

He'd whisper, "It doesn't hurt, baby. I'm here."

Once, the pain was so unbearable I ended up in the ER late at night.

It was pouring outside.

Leo carried me on his back, trudging through the rain, one heavy step at a time.

Rain soaked his hair and clothes, but he didn't care.

At the hospital, he rushed to register, pay, and fetch medicine, drenched and disheveled.

When the doctor treated a cut on his forehead, I learned he'd fallen at the hospital entrance in his haste.

Lying in the hospital bed, I saw the bandage on his head and cried from guilt.

He just smiled and tapped my nose. "Silly, why are you crying? As long as you're okay, I'm fine."

In that moment, I truly believed he'd love me forever.

But now, everything had changed.

I curled up in bed, cold sweat soaking my nightdress.

A knock came at the door.

It was the maid.

"Madam, what's wrong?"

"My… stomach hurts." I could barely speak through the pain.

The maid's face shifted, and she hurried out.

Soon, Alessandro appeared at the door.

He wore his usual black suit, his expression stern.

Seeing my pale face, he frowned. "What's going on?"

"She… seems to be ill," the maid said.

Alessandro approached the bed and touched my forehead.

His cool fingertips made me shiver.

"Call the family doctor," he ordered.

Then he bent down and scooped me up in his arms.

I gasped, instinctively clutching his shirt.

His embrace was firm, surprisingly steady.

"Be quiet," he snapped, glancing at me as he carried me to the bathroom.

He turned on the shower, adjusted the water temperature, and set me in the tub.

Warm water enveloped me, easing the cramps slightly.

I leaned against the tub's edge, looking at him.

He stood above me, his expression unchanged, though his eyes grew deeper.

"Always this bad?" he asked.

I nodded.

He stayed silent for a moment, then left.

I thought he was gone, and a strange sense of loss crept in.

Moments later, he returned.

In his hand was a cup of ginger tea.

I froze.