Sophia Moreno sat in her father's grand but fading study, the weight of the past week pressing on her chest like a stone. The once spotless walls, beautifully framed awards, and certificates, now seemed to choke her upon seeing them recently. Across the desk was Victor Moreno sited cross-legged, a shadow of the proud, confident businessman she had always known. His head was in his hands, his voice was a whisper.

"Sophia, I've failed you."

The words struck inside her like a dagger to her heart. She had grown up idolizing her father, the man who had built their empire from nothing. Now, that empire was crumbling, and with it, her family's reputation. The authorities had discovered years of financial mismanagement, hidden accounts, and deals that avoided everything that deals with legality. A prison sentence was moving over Victor Moreno like a storm cloud.

"Isn't there another way?" Sophia's voice kept shaking as she spoke. "A way to fix this without… without that?"

Victor shook his head. "No, I mean, there is no other way I can possibly think of other than Dante Varro, who is our only chance. He's agreed to settle the debts and silence the scandal, but his terms are non-negotiable." He looked up, his eyes filled with shame. "He wants you, Sophia. As his wife."

The words remained in the air without an immediate reply, sharp and suffocating. Sophia's mind raced. She had met Dante Varro once, briefly, at a charity gala. His presence had been cold, calculating, and intimidating. He was nothing like the kind of man she had dreamed of marrying. But this wasn't about dreams. It was about survival.

The meeting with Dante was arranged in his shining, simple penthouse overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. As Sophia stepped into the very big and expensive living room, she felt overshadowed by its lovely luxury everywhere. Glass walls offered a wider and detailed view of the ocean, but the beauty did nothing to calm her nerves.

Dante stood by the window, his posture remained firm. He turned as she entered, his dark eyes assessing her with a precision that made her feel like a calculation he was solving.

"Miss Moreno," he said, his voice smooth but without any form warmth. "I'll get straight to the point. This marriage will be a business arrangement. I'll settle your father's debts and ensure his freedom, but in return, you'll be my wife. Publicly, we'll play the role of a devoted couple. Privately, our lives will remain separate. Do you understand?"

Sophia's throat was dry, but she nodded. "I understand."

"Good," Dante said. "The wedding is in three days. I trust you'll be ready."

With that, the meeting ended. Dante's carriage of himself and command of words left no room for questions, no space for hesitation. Sophia walked out of the penthouse feeling as though she had signed a deal with the devil.

The day arrived with the brightness of the Mediterranean sun displaying a golden shine over the lavish villa where the ceremony was to take place. The setting was perfect, a vision of elegance and luxury, but to Sophia, it felt like a cage. Every flower arrangement, every crystal goblet, every shining detail reminded her of the life she was being forced into.

Sophia stood in front of the mirror in her bridal suit, the white silk gown was firm to her shape and it felt like a second skin. Amara, her best friend, adjusted the veil with a forced smile.

"Sophia, are you sure about this?" Amara asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I don't have a choice," Sophia replied, her voice hollow. "If I don't do this, my father… my family…" She went off with tears rolling down from her eyes, unable to finish the sentence.

Amara placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and took a whip to assist with the tears . "Just remember who you are, Sophia. Don't let him take that away from you."

Sophia nodded, though she wasn't sure what part of herself she would have left after this.

When the ceremony began, Sophia walked down the aisle, her arm linked with her father's. The guests, a lot of perfectly dressed elites, watched with lovely smiles, unaware of the tension that was happening beneath the surface they were seeing.

Dante stood at the altar, his face with an unreadable smile. In his tailored black suit, he looked every bit the powerful billionaire. As Sophia approached, their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw something in his gaze—a sign of small emotion, quickly buried.

The vows were exchanged without fanfare. Dante's voice was steady, his words rehearsed and didn't have any form of sentiment. Sophia's hands kept shaking as she slid the ring onto his finger. When it was over, he moved in, brushing his lips against hers in a kiss that was more of rules than having its affection.

The reception was a very big affair, with champagne flowing and music filling the air. Sophia played her part, smiling and engaging with guests, but her mind was elsewhere. She could feel Dante's eyes on her, watchful and calculating.

When the celebration finally ended, Dante escorted her to their shared suite. The room was as luxurious as the rest of the villa, but it felt empty, absent of any form of warmth.

"You'll have your space," Dante said, pointing to a door leading to a private bedroom. "We'll maintain appearances in public, but beyond that, I expect we'll stay out of each other's way."

Sophia's chest tightened. "Is that how you see this? As a transaction?"

Dante's face became hardened. "That's exactly what it is, Sophia. Don't fool yourself into thinking otherwise."

His words stung her hard, but they also moved something in her, a defiance she hadn't felt in days. "You may think you've bought me, Dante, but I'm not a piece of property. You'll find I'm not so easily controlled."

For the first time, a small amount of smile displayed at the corners of his mouth. "We'll see about that."

Later that night, unable to sleep, Sophia walked through the villa. She found herself being moved to Dante's private study, its door slightly open. Curiosity got the better of her, and she stepped inside.

The room was very lovely, every surface polished and every object perfectly placed. But it was the desk that caught her attention. A folder lay open, its contents were displaying out visibly. Sophia hesitated, then picked up one of the papers.

Her blood ran cold as she read the names and numbers. These were no ordinary documents. They detailed accounts, transactions, and connections—all linked to her father's scandal. But there was more. Photos of powerful figures, handwritten notes, and maps hinted at something far darker.

The sound of footsteps made her heart seize. She turned to see Dante standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

"being curious can be dangerous, Sophia," he said with his voice low and threatening. "I suggest you stay out of my affairs."

Sophia's hands shook as she put the papers back. "What is all this?" she asked. "Why do you have this information?"

Dante stepped closer, his eyes locking onto hers. "Let's just say I have my reasons. And if you value your safety, you'll forget you ever saw it."

As he left the room, Sophia's mind raced. Who was Dante Varro, really? And what had she just gotten herself into?

She sat inside the darkness of her private bedroom, Sophia lay on her bed awake, her mind filled with questions and fears. She had married Dante to save her family, but now she wasn't sure she could trust him. What secrets was he hiding? And how dangerous was he?

As she went into an unsettled sleep, a single thought remained in her heart: this marriage was only the beginning, and the road ahead was far more treacherous than she could have ever imagined.