Chapter 1 - The Exchange Bride

The church was silent except for the soft hum of rain against the stained-glass windows.

White lilies lined the aisle—simple, chosen by Ryan’s men, not her. Zaria stood at the altar, her hands clenched around a bouquet that smelled faintly of iron and fear.

Across from her, Ryan Moretti looked like sin carved in flesh. His black suit fit like armor; his gray eyes stayed locked on her, unreadable. No warmth, no smile—just claim.

The priest’s voice echoed.

“Do you, Ryan Moretti, take this woman—”

“I do,” Ryan said before the man could finish.

When the words turned to her, Zaria’s mouth went dry. Every instinct screamed to run, but her feet felt nailed to the marble floor.

“I… do.”

The syllables left her lips like surrender.

A ring—cool, heavy, engraved with the Moretti crest—slid onto her finger. The priest closed the book, murmured a blessing neither of them heard, and that was the end.

No music. No kiss. Just a contract sealed in silence.

Outside, the rain had stopped, but the air smelled of thunder. Ryan guided her to the waiting car with a hand on her back—light, but commanding. The moment the door shut, the world outside disappeared.

Zaria looked out the window, trying to memorize the streets she was leaving behind. Ryan poured himself a drink from the car’s bar, watching her reflection in the glass.

“You look disappointed,” he said at last.

She startled. “Should I not be?”

He smiled faintly, without mirth. “Disappointment implies you expected something better.”

“I didn’t expect anything at all.”

“Good.” He set the glass down. “Expectations get people hurt.”

The car rolled through Florence’s narrow lanes until the sea came into view again. The mansion stood at the cliff’s edge like a black crown. When they stopped, Ryan stepped out first and extended his hand. She hesitated, then took it. His grip was warm, steady—possession disguised as politeness.

Inside, the mansion seemed even larger than before. Candlelight flickered across marble floors and dark portraits. She could hear the soft tick of a distant clock, the echo of her own breath.

Ryan led her up the grand staircase. “This house is yours now,” he said. “But there are rules.”

Her pulse jumped. “Rules?”

“Simple ones. Don’t leave the estate without my permission. Don’t lie to me. And when I ask for something, you give it.”

He stopped halfway up, turning to face her. His voice dropped.

“You understand, cara mia?”

Zaria met his gaze and nodded, unable to speak.

“Good,” he said, and continued walking.

Her room was vast—a queen-sized bed draped in silk, windows overlooking the wild sea, a wardrobe larger than her old bedroom. She turned to thank him, but he was already at the door.

“Dinner is at nine. Someone will come for you,” he said.

“Ryan—” The name slipped out before she could stop it.

He paused, one hand on the doorframe. “You’ll call me Mr. Moretti in public,” he said. “But when we’re alone…” His gaze softened, almost imperceptibly. “…you may use my name.”

Then he left.

Zaria stood there, staring at the closed door, her heart thudding in uneven beats. The room felt both beautiful and cold—like a gilded cage. She walked to the window. Below, waves crashed against the rocks, wild and restless, just like the man she’d married.

In that moment, one thought settled in her mind:

She wasn’t just a wife. She was the balance on a ledger.

And yet… for reasons she couldn’t name, she wanted to understand him. The man who claimed her without hesitation. The man who said nothing, yet saw everything.

Maybe, she thought, that was how madness began—with curiosity.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***