Chapter 2 THE LAST WISH

Lucia followed Matteo through the silent corridors of the De Luca villa, her footsteps echoing faintly against the polished marble floors. The air inside was cool and still, despite the blistering Italian sun outside. The scent of polished wood, old books, and something faintly floral filled her nose-like memories preserved in amber.

The silence between them was dense. He walked ahead, his tall frame rigid, hands in his pockets like he had done this a thousand times. Like bringing a stranger into his home, offering her a name and a future, meant nothing at all.

To Lucia, it meant everything-and absolutely nothing at the same time.

She was being swallowed whole by this house, this legacy, this man she didn't know.

They passed rows of closed doors, family portraits in heavy gold frames, and velvet-curtained archways that led into rooms she could only imagine. It wasn't a home-it was a mausoleum for power.

"Where are we going?" she asked finally.

"To her."

He didn't say her name. He didn't need to. Everyone knew who she was.

At the end of the hall stood a pair of tall oak doors, intricately carved with the De Luca crest-a lion rearing on its hind legs, crowned and fierce. Matteo paused.

"She's fragile," he said without looking at her. "But don't let that fool you. She sees through people like glass."

Lucia lifted her chin. "So do I."

He glanced at her then, just for a second. Something flickered in his eyes-approval, perhaps. Or warning.

He pushed open the doors.

The room was sun-drenched, full of soft light and quiet elegance. Floor-to-ceiling windows opened out onto a private terrace bursting with flowers-roses, peonies, and lavender in bloom. The scent was heady, calming. A breeze stirred the sheer white curtains, casting them like ghosts across the room.

In the middle sat a woman in a high-backed velvet chair, draped in a pale shawl, her silver-white hair pinned neatly back. She looked impossibly regal-like a queen waiting for court.

Lucia swallowed. This was Giulia De Luca-the matriarch, the legend, the reason she was here.

Giulia turned her head slowly. Her sharp gray eyes locked on Lucia, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

"So," Giulia said, her voice low but clear. "You're Rosa's granddaughter."

Lucia stepped forward. "Yes, ma'am. Lucia Moretti."

Giulia studied her for a long moment, her gaze sharp and analytical. "You have her spirit. I can see it in your eyes. That fire."

Lucia offered a tight smile. "She raised me to be strong."

"Good. You'll need strength to survive this family."

Lucia blinked.

Giulia's gaze shifted to Matteo. "Leave us."

Matteo stiffened. "Nonna-"

"I said leave." Her tone brooked no argument.

Matteo gave Lucia a brief, unreadable look before turning on his heel and walking out, the door closing with a click behind him.

Lucia turned back to the old woman, suddenly feeling the full weight of her presence. Giulia might have been small, frail even, but her energy filled the room like thunderclouds before a storm.

"Sit," she said.

Lucia sat across from her in a chair with carved wooden arms, her back straight despite the tension in her spine.

For a moment, neither spoke. The breeze fluttered in, stirring Giulia's shawl.

"You look like your mother," Giulia said softly. "But you have your father's defiance. That's a dangerous combination."

"I'm not here to be dangerous," Lucia said carefully. "I'm here because I was summoned."

Giulia gave a short laugh, which turned into a cough. Lucia leaned forward instinctively, but Giulia waved her off. "I'm dying, child. Not right now, but soon. Cancer, the doctors say. Stage four. Matteo doesn't want to talk about it. He thinks pretending gives us more time."

Lucia frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I've lived well. I've loved fiercely. And I've made my peace with death. But I haven't made peace with him."

Lucia tilted her head. "Matteo?"

Giulia nodded. "He's lost. Hardened. His father ruined him-cheated on me for years, nearly destroyed the family's name, and left Matteo to clean up the mess. That boy grew up too fast. He forgot how to feel. He forgot how to trust."

Lucia swallowed. "And you think marrying me will fix him?"

Giulia's smile was sly. "No, cara. I think marrying you will save him."

Lucia hesitated. "I don't understand."

Giulia leaned in, her gaze sharp. "You're not from our world. You're not tainted by greed or scandal or expectation. You see things as they are. You don't play games. That's why I chose you. Not because you're poor. But because you're honest."

Lucia stared at the older woman. "You chose me. And he agreed."

"He had no choice," Giulia said simply. "He loves me. He would do anything for me-even marry a stranger."

Lucia bristled. "And you don't think that's... cruel?"

"I think it's fate," Giulia said. "One year. Stay married for one year. Keep up appearances. Attend dinners. Smile for the press. After I'm gone, you may part ways."

"One year?" Lucia echoed.

"In exchange, your brother's medical bills will be covered. Your family's debts cleared. And you'll receive a small estate under your name-something to start fresh with."

Lucia's breath caught. It was more than she'd ever dreamed. A future-one her family desperately needed. And all she had to do... was become a wife.

A wife to a man who didn't believe in love.

"I don't love him," Lucia said.

Giulia smiled. "Good. Neither does he."

Lucia frowned. "That's not comforting."

"No," Giulia agreed. "But it's honest."

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then Giulia whispered, almost too softly to hear, "Do this for me, Lucia. I want to leave knowing Matteo is not alone. Even if it's just pretend for now."

Lucia exhaled shakily. "I'll think about it."

Giulia's eyes glimmered. "You already have."

Matteo was waiting just outside the doors, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.

"She's not what I expected," Lucia said.

"She never is," he replied.

Lucia studied him. "One year?"

He nodded. "That's the deal."

"No lies. No pretending we're in love."

"No expectations," he agreed. "But you must play the part-publicly."

Lucia paused. "And my brother?"

"Will have the best doctors in Milan by the end of the day. If you say yes."

She held out her hand.

Matteo looked at it, then took it.

His grip was firm, cool. But something passed between them-something unspoken. An understanding. A contract sealed not just in words, but in something far more dangerous:

Possibility.

That night, Lucia stood by her window in the guest wing of the villa, staring out at the moonlit vineyard below. The De Luca estate stretched for miles-majestic, intimidating.

Somewhere below, Matteo was likely in his private study, alone with his expensive whiskey and darker thoughts.

And here she was, a peasant girl from Castello Verde, about to become a billionaire's bride.

It was madness.

But perhaps, in the madness... something real could begin.