Isabella

Several years ago...

Rain streamed down my face, mingling with the tears I fought to hold back. My heart pounded so hard I felt it might burst from my chest. I needed to see him. I needed to explain.

I raced through the corridors of the Moretti family’s corporate building, my heels sinking into the plush carpet. Each step brought me closer to Lorenzo—and closer to the rejection that awaited me.

When I stopped at the door of the presidential suite, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and knocked.

Nothing.

I knocked again.

The click of the lock made me hold my breath.

The door opened, and there he stood. Lorenzo Moretti, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his bare chest, his silky hair disheveled. On any other day, he would have pulled me inside and kissed me as usual. But today, our circumstances were different.

His dark gaze fell on me, filled with hatred.

“How dare you show up here? How dare you come here and humiliate yourself further?”

My throat went dry. I knew he wouldn’t make this easy for me. But even so, I had to try.

“I need to explain…”

His laughter was cold and cruel.

“Explain what?” He held up his phone, showing me the screen. “What exactly do you want to explain? That this photo I’m showing you is a montage?”

The air left my lungs. The photo.

On the screen, the image was blurred yet unmistakably clear—a carefully orchestrated setup by someone who wanted to tear us apart, and they had succeeded.

In the photo, I was getting into someone else’s car. Specifically, that someone was Hernández Santoro, Lorenzo’s rival, a competitor who would stop at nothing to steal Lorenzo’s projects and destroy his company. After dragging me into this carefully crafted chaos, he had vanished.

My heart sank as I listened to his hate-filled words.

“Lorenzo… it’s not what it looks like. I swear. Let me explain!”

He narrowed his eyes. He had always been a passionate man, but now… now he looked like he wanted to destroy me, his pure rage alone enough to shatter me.

“Then tell me what exactly this is supposed to mean?” His voice thundered, as if ready to strike me down.

“I know nothing about this. Someone set me up. I never betrayed you. Never. Please believe me! Why would I want to destroy you when I know the company means everything to you? Tell me, what logic is there in that?”

Lorenzo laughed. There was no humor in it.

“Shut up, Isabella. I don’t want to hear another word from you. Every word you speak is a lie.”

The world spun around me, and I felt everything crumbling.

“Lorenzo, please…” My voice was weak.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to contain his anger, but I knew him too well. Lorenzo wasn’t one to hold back when he felt betrayed. And he was convinced I had betrayed him.

He took a step forward, then another, until he was too close. The woody scent of him, mixed with the whiskey he must have been drinking, overwhelmed my senses.

His jaw was tight.

“You’re dead to me, understand? I hope your betrayal was worth it.”

Tears welled in my eyes.

Lorenzo gave me one last look, filled with hatred and bitterness. Then he turned and left me there.

“I love you…” I whispered, but it was too late.

That night, I knew I would never earn his forgiveness. Someone had ended us, destroyed us both, and he was none the wiser.

...(๑˙❥˙๑)0.1(๑˙❥˙๑)...

Isabella

They say time heals all wounds. That’s a lie. Some pains simply become a part of who we are.

My name is Isabella Vásquez, and five years ago, my life crumbled before my eyes.

I remember that night as if it were yesterday. The rain poured down, the city lights were dim, and the sound of hurried footsteps echoed on the wet pavement as I struggled to hold back tears. I went to Lorenzo to explain everything, but he wouldn’t listen. In his eyes, I was a traitor, a liar. A woman who had deceived him.

And then he left me.

But what Lorenzo never knew—and what I didn’t know at the time—was that I was carrying his child.

That night, I finally realized it because my body couldn’t withstand the emotional shock, the pain of seeing him despise me and discard everything we had. I lost our baby.

I woke up in a hospital, surrounded by strangers who had found me collapsed on the street. My life was over.

I ran away. I left everything behind, cut all ties with my past, and started over in a neighboring city. But starting over is never easy, especially for someone who has lost everything.

Five years later, I own a small interior design company. I built it from the ground up, pouring every penny I had saved into it. My salary is decent, and I don’t need many luxuries to live, but the truth is, I’m on the verge of bankruptcy.

My company is facing a serious crisis. If I don’t get emergency funding, I’ll have to shut down. Maintenance costs, supplier expenses, and employee salaries are piling up, and clients aren’t closing deals as frequently as they used to.

With each passing day, I feel the weight of responsibility growing. If I lose the company, years of dedication and sacrifice will be for nothing. But what can I do when my options are dwindling?

That’s why I spent the entire day in meetings, desperately trying to secure a loan. But the answer was always the same:

“Unfortunately, we cannot extend credit at this time.”

I tried reaching out to banks, investors, even former clients who owed me favors, but no one was willing to take the risk.

Now, I sit at my desk, staring at the pile of bills, feeling the desperation grow. My phone vibrates beside the keyboard. I sigh and pick it up, ready to ignore any new invoices. But my heart stops when I see the name on the screen.

Doña Eleonora Moretti.

After all these years, what could she possibly want from me?

I stare at the screen before answering.

“Hello?”

“Isabella, my dear… it’s been too long.”

I close my eyes. Her voice is the same, filled with affection and a natural authority. Unlike Lorenzo, his grandmother had always been kind to me.

“Yes, it has been…” I whisper.

“We need to talk. I’ve missed you.”

My throat goes dry. Why does she want to see me now?

“I… I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, Doña Eleonora. I…”

“Isabella, please. Just for a cup of tea. Nothing more.”

I sigh. Part of me knows I should refuse. But another part… is curious.

Truth be told, I have nothing left to lose.

“Alright. Where and when?”

She gives me the address of an upscale café downtown and arranges for us to meet the same day.

After hanging up, my hands are cold.

I wait a moment, hoping the anxiety will pass, then grab my purse, get into my car, and drive toward the address Doña Eleonora sent me. My heart races, and I’m not sure why.

Maybe it’s because I’m about to see the grandmother of the man I once loved.

Or maybe it’s the fear of what she might want from me after so long.

The traffic is manageable, but my mind is elsewhere. My hands sweat on the steering wheel, and with every block, my breathing grows shallower.

When I finally park in front of the upscale downtown café, I sit in the car for a few seconds. My fingers grip the cold leather of the steering wheel as I try to collect my thoughts.

Why am I here?

I should have refused. But something deep inside tells me to go through with it. I’m already here, so what’s the point of turning back?

I take a deep breath, unbuckle my seatbelt, and step out of the car.

As I enter the café, the aroma of fresh coffee and a hint of vanilla wash over me. My eyes scan the room until they land on Doña Eleonora Moretti, seated at a reserved table in the corner.

Age doesn’t seem to have burdened her. Her gray hair is swept up in an elegant bun, and her sharp eyes, just as I remember, take me in from head to toe as I approach.

“Isabella…” She smiles, rising slightly from her chair. “You look beautiful.”

A tightness forms in my chest, and I don’t know whether to smile or remain composed.

“Good afternoon, Doña Eleonora.”

“Sit down, dear.”

I do as she says, and soon a waiter comes to take our order. I opt for a simple coffee, while she orders chamomile tea.

The silence that follows is strange. I sense she didn’t call me here just to catch up.

Doña Eleonora speaks first.

“I heard you’ve been doing well these past few years, dear.”

I laugh humorlessly.

“If ‘well’ means struggling desperately to save my company, then yes, I’m doing great.”

She observes me for a moment, seemingly analyzing every word I say.

“You still hold resentment, don’t you?”

I keep my hands tightly clasped on my knees, not wanting to dwell on the past.

“I’ve moved on, Doña Eleonora. What happened between me and your grandson is in the past.”

She nods gently, stirring her tea calmly.

“I know he didn’t want to listen to you…” She sighs. “And I also know you suffered far more than he could ever imagine.”

My spine stiffens. Does she know?

I blink a few times, trying to recall. But before I can speak, she continues:

“What Lorenzo did to you was a terrible mistake, Isabella. But I know my grandson. He’s too proud and stubborn to admit he was wrong. Despite the resentment between you, deep down, you still love each other.”

I don’t respond. My throat is too tight.

“That’s why I’m here today,” she continues, setting her cup down and folding her hands on her knees. “I need your help.”

“My help?” I raise an eyebrow. This is unexpected. “What kind of help?” I dare to ask again.

She straightens in her chair, her sharp gaze fixed on me.

“I want you to marry my grandson.”

My heart stops.

I blink, hoping she’ll laugh and say it’s a joke. But her expression remains serious enough to let me know she means it.

I let out a humorless laugh.

“You must be joking.”

“I’m dead serious.”

This is insane.

“Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because you need the money.”

My muscles freeze.

She leans forward, her expression still calm but filled with determination.

“As you said, your company is in trouble. I know you’re struggling to keep it afloat. And I know you haven’t found another solution so far.”

I swallow. She knows me well enough to understand how hard I’ve fought to keep my business standing.

“What do I get out of this? Lorenzo will only hate me more.”

She smiles faintly.

“You’ll earn enough to solve your financial problems, with plenty left over in your account. You won’t have to worry about repaying any debts for the rest of the year. In addition to the contractual fee Lorenzo will pay, I’ll add an extra amount for you.”

My heart leaps.

She knows exactly how to get to me.

“Lorenzo needs this marriage. The media has been speculating about his personal life, and he can’t afford to have his image and sexuality questioned. He just needs a civil marriage to boost public credibility. And you need the money. Besides, I don’t want anyone else bearing our family name but you.” She takes my hand. “I love you very much, dear, and I won’t lie—I hope you two can reconcile.”

My stomach churns.

“Does he… know it’s me?”

Doña Eleonora shakes her head.

“No. And he doesn’t care who the wife is, as long as the contract is fulfilled. In a way, it’s better for you that he doesn’t know it’s you.”

I narrow my eyes. This is madness. When will he find out?

But the truth is… I’m in a bind. I need the money, and the Moretti family is the only way out at this point. Perhaps this is my only chance, a way out of this mess.

I take a deep breath, my thoughts racing in every possible direction.

Marrying Lorenzo Moretti.

A man who hates me.

A man who has no idea I’m the contractual bride.

Yet, everything inside me screams that I should agree and solve my problems once and for all.

I lift my head and look at Doña Moretti.

“When would this need to happen?”

She smiles.

“In a week.”

“Alright. I’ll marry Lorenzo.”

...(⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠) *Lorenzo Moretti* (⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠)...

My name is Lorenzo Moretti, CEO of the Moretti Group, one of the largest business conglomerates in Italy. To the world, I am a ruthless, cold, and calculating businessman. To the press, I am mysterious and unreachable. To my enemies, I am an impossible problem to solve.

And to Isabella Vasquez, I am the man who hates her.

Five years ago, she was the only woman for whom I was able to lower my guard. The only one for whom I truly allowed myself to feel something. And it was a mistake. When I saw her get into my enemy Ernandes' car, on the day my projects disappeared, I knew it wasn't a coincidence. She was with him, the photos I received, the evidence I received, everything led me to her.

She destroyed me.

Looking back, I still wonder how I was so foolish. Me, Lorenzo Moretti, believing in love. It sounds like a joke.

The problem is that Isabella was good at it. She knew exactly how to make a man fall in love. Her innocent smile, her light laughter, her furtive glances... Everything about her seemed real. Until one day, I discovered her betrayal, and it destroyed me.

The image of her getting into that scoundrel's car was etched in my mind like a damn tattoo.

She tried to deny it. Tried to justify herself. But I didn't want to listen. I didn't need to. I had already seen enough.

And then, I let her go.

She died to me that night.

Since then, I have never trusted anyone again. I have never allowed myself to feel anything beyond what is necessary. Women? Just distractions that I have been avoiding. Relationships? An unnecessary risk.

My focus was only one thing: my business.

I built an unshakeable empire, expanded my investments, increased my fortune. And now, years later, there was nothing I couldn't have.

Nothing but peace.

The sound of ice clinking against the glass brought me back to the present.

I held the glass of whiskey firmly, swirling the amber liquid inside. The drink went down hot through my throat as I leaned against the office table, watching the city through the huge glass wall.

The lights of Milan shone in the distance, but everything seemed monotonous. As always.

I was about to pour myself another drink when I heard the office door open.

"You shouldn't drink so much, Lorenzo."

The soft, yet firm, voice of Dona Eleonora Moretti filled the room. I sighed and turned slowly, facing my grandmother.

She was a woman of presence. Even with her advanced age, she still exuded elegance and authority. Her impeccable bun and the astute glint in her eyes made it clear that she hadn't come here by chance.

"To what do I owe the honor of the visit, nonna?" I asked, raising the glass in a sarcastic toast.

She entered the office without caring about my irony and sat in the armchair in front of me, calmly crossing her legs.

"I want to talk about something very important."

I huffed and took another sip.

"Since when do you make unexpected visits to talk about something important?" I am surprised now.

She looked at me without showing emotions.

"Since your reputation is at stake, and you don't seem to care."

Here we go.

"My reputation?" I gave a half-smile. "My empire is growing. My investments have doubled in the last quarter. My name remains intact. What else matters?"

She gave me a sharp look.

"Your image."

I remained silent. I knew exactly what she was talking about.

In recent months, rumors have begun to circulate in the press. Speculation about my sexuality. First, it was a bad taste joke in some tabloid. Then, an article insinuating that I was never seen with women. Then, the comments on social media questioning my sexual orientation.

And now, according to my grandmother, this was affecting my business.

Luxury magazines were already starting to say that I was "too mysterious", that my lack of love scandals was "suspicious", and that "perhaps Lorenzo Moretti was not interested in women." In other words, to many I am Gay.

In the business world, perception is everything.

My jaw clenched, but I remained calm.

"They are just rumors."

My grandmother smiled.

"And you know that rumors can become truths if they are repeated many times."

I crossed my arms.

"Where are you going with this, nonna?"

She leaned forward, with a cunning look.

"I want you to get married."

I blinked slowly, absorbing what she had just said. Then, I let out a dry laugh.

"You're joking."

"I am not."

My smile disappeared.

"Nonna, I'm not going to get married because of gossip. That's ridiculous. If my grandfather were alive, you wouldn't even dare to mention this subject."

She remained impassive.

"He's not here to protect you, that's why you don't mature. Let your grandfather rest in peace," she rebuked me. "I'm not suggesting a real marriage. Just a contract. A temporary wife to shut the press up. You won't have to live with her."

I closed my eyes for a second.

"I don't need this."

"Yes, you do. Or do you want your investors to start hesitating to close deals with you because your image is tarnished, and bankrupt our family's company?"

I bit the inside of my cheek. Damn it, she knew how to get to me.

She realized she had shaken me and continued:

"It won't be a real marriage, Lorenzo. Only civil, no ceremony. Just some basic interviews for the press, and then, everyone goes their own way."

My mind was spinning. A contract. Just a contract.

It would be a nuisance, but... it would be an effective solution.

"And who will be the lucky "wife"? I asked, mocking.

"Don't worry about that. I've already chosen someone appropriate. Just worry about showing up on the day of the civil wedding to sign."

I raised an eyebrow.

"And this woman agreed to this?"

Dona Eleonora smiled.

"She needs the money. You need the intact reputation. Sounds like a great deal, don't you think?"

I sighed, swirling the whiskey in the glass.

This was a game I didn't want to play. But I knew that, in the business world, what matters is not what we want, but what we need to do. And at the moment, I needed to put an end to these rumors.

"Only civil. No involvement. No contact?"

She nodded.

"Exactly."

I narrowed my eyes. What kind of woman would accept this?

But, in the end, it didn't matter. I didn't care to know her name. It was a win-win deal. If I didn't need to interact with this woman, everything would be simpler.

But I still had conditions to impose.

"If I accept this, there will be some rules," I said, staring at my grandmother.

She raised her eyebrows, waiting.

"The wedding will be only civil. No party, no ceremony, no guests. All this is necessary to validate the document. This was your rule number one!" I asked, trying to understand.

"That was already planned," she confirmed.

"Then rule number 2 is no photos together, no aspect. The only thing that will come out in the newspapers will be a formal announcement informing that I got married. I will wear a ring on my finger, that's enough."

She narrowed her eyes.

"The newspapers will want more, you know that."

"Fuck the newspapers. I don't want my personal life exposed."

Dona Eleonora sighed.

"Okay. No photos. But you will need to be present at the registry office to sign the papers. And the photographers will be there to take the photos, and of course, some reporters with basic questions about you two. And after that, you will be responsible for attracting all of them away from there, so they don't know who your bride is."

"Obviously. I don't even want to see her!"

She tilted her head, a calm smile playing on her lips.

"Deal." She stood up and adjusted her coat. "In a week, it will be the wedding."

I nodded and turned my chair to the city view, and she left.

...(⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠) *Isabella* (⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠)...

The cell phone vibrated on my desk and my heart skipped a beat, even though I already knew who it was.

Dona Eleonora Moretti.

I took a deep breath, preparing myself for what I would hear. It was already decided. I accepted this deal knowing exactly what I was getting into. But now, hearing the confirmation that I was about to become Lorenzo Moretti's wife still made my stomach churn with nerves.

I answered almost on the last ring.

"Isabella, dear, it's done. The wedding will be in a week," her voice sounded calm, as always.

I bit my lips.

Even expecting this answer, hearing the words come out of her mouth made it all more real.

"Okay…" my voice came out a little weaker than I would have liked.

"Don't worry, my dear. Everything is already planned. The wedding will be discreet, as Lorenzo demanded. Just a signature, no ceremony, nothing. And as soon as you comply with the agreement, I'll send you the promised amount."

He really had no idea.

He would sign those papers without even caring who was on the other side. For him, it didn't matter who his wife would be, as long as the media believed it.

But for me… it did.

"Are you okay, Isabella?" Dona Eleonora asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Yes, I'm just processing everything," I lie.

"It's understandable. But trust me, dear, this will be good for you."

I bit my lip again. Good?

Marrying a man who hates me and has no idea he's marrying me? That wouldn't be good at all.

"Tomorrow, the lawyer will take the documents for you to sign before the wedding," she continued. "Don't worry about anything. I've provided what's needed."

There was no need to worry.

Fate was already sealed.

When the call ended, I stared at the black screen of the cell phone.

In a week, I would be Isabella Moretti.

I didn't sleep well that night.

The memories haunted me, as they always did when Lorenzo's name came back to my mind.

The man who loved me, and then threw me away, without giving me the opportunity to tell him the whole truth.

He didn't even want to hear me. He never tried to understand what really happened. He simply discarded me as if I had never meant anything.

But now? In a few weeks, he would be tied to me.

If he had given me the chance to speak, if he had listened, maybe none of this would be happening.

But he made his choice. And I made mine.

The next day, a man in an impeccable suit appeared at the reception of my company.

"Miss Vasquez?"

I nodded.

"I am Dona Eleonora's lawyer. I've come to bring the contract for you to sign."

He opened a leather folder and slid the papers onto the table.

My heart raced when I saw the name Lorenzo Moretti printed there.

So many years had passed and, yet, my name would again be next to his.

"If you could sign here…" he pointed to the last line of the document.

I held the pen firmly, although my fingers trembled slightly.

Lorenzo signed without even knowing who the woman was who would be carrying his last name.

How ironic.

I swallowed hard and, without thinking further, signed my name.

"Great," said the lawyer, collecting the papers. "The wedding will take place in a few days, but, as requested by Mr. Moretti, you will not need to see each other before the ceremony."

Of course not.

He didn't want to know who the wife was. He didn't want to meet, or see, or waste a minute thinking about her.

If he knew it was me.

Would he have torn up that contract right then and there?

...(⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠) One week later (⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠)...

On the day of the wedding, I woke up early. The air was cold, the sky cloudy. A perfect day for a loveless wedding.

I dressed slowly, analyzing my reflection in the mirror.

Dona Eleonora sent the dress for me. Something elegant, but discreet. It wasn't a traditional wedding dress, because this wasn't a real wedding.

My only function was to sign a paper and become Lorenzo Moretti's invisible wife. I knew that this agreement would benefit me financially.

My hair was loose, as Lorenzo always liked.

Funny.

I knew he wouldn't see me today, but, somehow, I still wanted him to see me as I always was.

I got into my car and drove to the registry office.

When I arrived, an assistant of Dona Eleonora was already waiting for me.

"Good morning, Miss...."

"Isabella!"

"Miss Isabella. Come with me."

He led me to a private room. On the table were the final documents.

My gaze was drawn to his name once again.

Lorenzo Moretti.

"Has he already signed?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"Yes, earlier. He just came to sign, and left."

My breath caught in my throat.

Of course. Because for him, it didn't matter.

I signed my name.

With a single stroke of the pen, I became the wife of the man who hated me.

When I left the registry office, the cold wind hit my skin. The world continued as normal, as if nothing had changed. But for me, everything was different.

I took out my cell phone and sent a short message to Dona Eleonora:

It's done.

Seconds later, she replied:

"Welcome to the family, Isabella."

My fingers tightened on the phone.

"What have I done?" I asked myself, looking at the ring on my finger. A ring that I myself had put on.

I walked to my car, got in, and drove straight to the apartment where I live.

When I parked in front of the building, a black car stopped and a security guard got out before me. I opened the door of my car, he greeted me and extended his arm handing me a black briefcase.

"Here it is, Mrs. Moretti."

My hands trembled slightly as I took it. I already knew what was inside.

Money.

The payment for my wedding.

I swallowed hard and just nodded, squeezing the handle of the briefcase tightly. Without saying anything else, I went to my apartment, feeling each step weighing more than ever.