Chapter 198

Chapter 198
ISABELLA

I genuinely did not know which emotion weighed heaviest in my chest as I walked down the aisle, Matt holding my arm. Rage pulsed under my skin, anger tangled with defeat, fear tightened around my ribs—yet somehow, absurdly, there was still the faintest flicker of happiness. Just a sliver. Because no matter how hard I tried, I could not bring myself to fully hate Levi. Not even after he betrayed me. Not even after he chose his father over me.
But happiness was by far the smallest of the emotions swirling inside me, and identifying the strongest one felt impossible. What helped—if anything—was knowing that I looked breathtaking. And the field-turned-cathedral venue around me was massive—ancient stone and soaring arches transformed into something almost mythical—so breathtakingly elegant it made my lungs stumble. It left me buzzing with a strange, electric aliveness, as if, for one suspended moment, I was standing on top of the world, held in the palm of something larger than myself.
The place stretched endlessly, the largest venue in Italy: old brick walls towering upward, softened by time; massive chairs arranged with meticulous care; ceilings so high it felt as if the entire sky of Italy hovered above us. Sunlight poured through arched windows and spilled over the white interior, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. Flowers trailed down the columns in extravagant spirals.
Levi stood waiting at the altar, framed by the cathedral’s splendor—and his eyes were locked on me with an intensity that didn’t waver for even a heartbeat. He watched me the way a man watches something he’s terrified might vanish if he blinks, as if the slightest glance away would give me the chance to run.
But I couldn’t.
He had already cornered me—bound me—with the contract, with the threat behind it, with the suffocating lack of choices he’d left me. There was no escape. Not in the short time I’d been given. Not after waking from the accident only two days before the wedding and finding myself monitored, silenced, permitted to speak to no one until the preparations were complete.
He played the game. And he won. I was marrying him.
I exhaled slowly, forcing my steps forward. The plush red carpet stretched beneath me like a royal procession path, rich and commanding, amplifying the grandeur of the moment until my lungs felt too tight to function. My heels pressed into it, each step heavy, deliberate, echoing in the vast cathedral like the closing of a door behind me.
Matt’s grip on my hand tightened. It was firm, grounding—his attempt to reassure me. I looked at him and managed a small smile. Maybe even a hint of real gratitude. He looked surprisingly good today, almost unrecognizably put-together in his suit, his hair slicked back neatly.
Matt had never looked this decent in his life. If I hadn’t been so nervous—skin prickling, pulse fluttering in my throat—I might’ve teased him about it. Part of me was genuinely proud he’d dressed up like this for me, because trust me, Matt hated suits. The fact that he had put in the effort said everything about how much he cared.
But even his presence—comforting, steady—couldn’t silence the question drilling into my skull:
What was I doing?
I was walking toward the man I loved… And yet every step felt like a mistake.
Because marrying Levi didn’t just pull me closer to him—it dragged me closer to the enemy I’d spent months trying to escape. And it pushed me farther from the only man who could help me. Once this marriage was complete, Mr. Mateo might no longer have any use for me. Then who would I turn to? Who would make sure Mr. Antonio paid for everything he’d done? Who would protect me when he finally put his plans into motion—plans that could swallow not just me, but my family, whole?
This marriage meant fewer layers of protection. It meant walking willingly into a trap built by a man who thrived in deceit. It meant stepping into the center of a game I barely understood—and one Mr. Antonio had already begun to play long before I realized there were pieces on the board.
A cold knot twisted in my stomach.
Mr. Antonio had agreed to this marriage far too easily. I knew it was to prove to Levi that he wasn’t an enemy anymore, that he had changed.
But I didn’t believe him. Not for a second. I never had.
And I was still certain he’d sent those men after us. For what purpose, I didn’t know. Because I believed he didn’t want to harm Levi. Maybe this—maybe pushing me toward Levi—was the goal all along. But what was the endgame?
If he never wanted me to marry his son, why force circumstances that led us here?
Why support Levi the moment he brought up the wedding?
“Isabela, are you okay? Your hands are shaking,” Matt asked, forcing me to turn toward him.
“I’m fine,” I said, hiding the tremor. He looked at me skeptically, as if he didn’t believe a word. “Just… nervous.”
“Cold feet?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Nah… I’m fine,” I repeated, forcing the words out. I didn’t want him to worry. Not now. Not when so many thoughts were spinning through my mind.
“You’ve stolen everyone’s breath away,” he said, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “I just hope I can get this for my wife when it’s my turn to get married.”
“You’re still too young to be thinking about marriage,” I reminded him, though a laugh escaped me despite myself.
Matt grinned, shaking his head, and I turned back to the altar. Levi was still waiting, poised and silent, his eyes never leaving me. The seconds stretched, each one amplifying the weight of what I was about to do.
My mind drifted—unwanted, vivid—back to the hospital room in New York. The memory crashed over me like cold water.
I remembered waking up in that stiff hospital bed, consciousness returning in disjointed pieces.