Chapter 200

Chapter 200
ISABELLA

He wasn’t in a black suit like I expected. He wore white—an immaculate coat, a short tie, everything crisp and perfectly tailored. His hair was smoothed back in soft, controlled waves; his beard trimmed neatly; his skin glowing with the kind of radiance that only joy creates. He looked like a Greek god—or Aphrodite, or some impossible combination of both.
He looked happy. Radiantly, impossibly happy.
Then Matt handed me over to him, stepping away to sit beside his girlfriend and Caroline.
Levi’s fingers closed around mine. Warm. Steady. Possessive.
He leaned in just slightly, his breath brushing the shell of my ear as he whispered, “Now you are mine forever…”
I said nothing. A butterfly twitched in my stomach—just one—and I crushed it mercilessly. I kept my eyes forward and turned to the priest, silently begging with every fiber of my being: Let’s get this over with, because what was to come, I did not know.
The exchange of vows felt like an eternity—three long minutes of promises spoken into a cathedral filled with light, yet hollow in my chest. Levi’s voice was steady, warm even, but every word seemed to echo in a part of me that refused to soften.
Because I knew the truth.
These vows meant nothing. Not to me. Not when the clock was already ticking toward the end of our contract marriage. A year. That was all. Just twelve months before this entire performance would dissolve back into the lie it was.
When the priest dismissed us as husband and wife, applause surged like a wave from the pews. The sound was too loud, too cheerful, pressing against my skull. Cameras exploded around us—paparazzi from Vogue, Vanity Fair, Elle, newspapers from Milan and Turin, all crammed at the church entrance despite the supposed privacy of the ceremony.
We stood outside beneath the towering arch of the chapel as the sun filtered through ancient stained glass, coloring Levi’s white suit in jewel tones. I was exhausted, my cheeks stiff from polite smiling, but the photos looked promising. Beautiful, even. The vain part of me—a stubborn, persistent spark—felt a little thrill.
At least I looked breathtaking. And I was sure the pictures would be too.
The celebration wasn’t over. Not even close.
We slid into the sleek Lamborghini, the leather cool beneath my fingers, the subtle hum of the engine vibrating through the cabin like a low heartbeat. Our photographer moved with us, snapping shots, trying to catch fleeting moments of laughter, the way we leaned toward each other, sunlight glinting off the car’s polished curves. Levi looked impossibly in love—so effortless, so complete—that it almost made it easy to slip into the pretense, to pretend this wasn’t a carefully orchestrated performance. I tried to match him, to act like it wasn’t a façade—but Levi, of course, was everywhere at once. He was in the space beside me, in the space around me, almost inside me if I let him. I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of it all press against my ribs.
The drive to the Ferrari estate was a blur of motion and sunlight. Rolling hills dotted with cypress trees and vineyards stretched to the horizon, a golden haze settling over everything like a dream. The estate itself rose like a fortress of elegance: red-brick walls gleaming in the Italian sun, terraces lined with marble statues, and gardens manicured to perfection. Every inch whispered wealth, history, and power—Italy’s pride embodied in stone and greenery.
The moment we arrived, I was whisked into the house to change. A small army had already assembled: my stylist fussing over the final curls in my hair, my makeup artist perfecting every shade and highlight, two assistants from Fendi adjusting the custom reception gown they had designed for me, a jewelry specialist unpacking velvet boxes filled with glittering treasures, and a tailor meticulously smoothing the seams of my second gown, ensuring it fit as if it had been sewn to my body alone.
The dress was a custom silk creation—deep ocean blue, flowing like a river in moonlight. The fabric shimmered when I moved, clinging and releasing like water. Jewelry glinted along my ears, neck, and wrists, delicate yet bold. My hair curled into soft, elegant waves; my lips were painted a red so rich it reminded me of ripe cherries, of spilled wine, of blood.
I caught my reflection in the mirror and almost laughed at myself. Never in my life had I imagined I would look like this. Levi had promised he would take care of everything, make me the perfect bride—and he had. It was flawless.
Like I had been born to be here, to move through this world of opulence as if it had been waiting for me all along.
For a moment—just a sliver—I loved it.