His Arranged Desire

Chapter One

Isabella POV

The glow of my bedside lamp spilled across the pages of the book in my lap, its soft light carving a small oasis in my otherwise suffocating world. Reading was the only place I could escape-the only time I wasn't Giovanni Romano's daughter, the pawn in his bloody empire.

The book was a dark romance about the two main character who was deeply in love with each other but couldn't be together because their families were at war.

The book piqued my interest when i heard that the male lead later died while sacrificing his love for her.

I have always liked knowing how books end before reading them so as to brace myself for any surprise.

I turned another page,deeply engrossed with the book, but the knock on my door broke the illusion. It was soft, hesitant. Only one person in this house knocked like that.

"Come in, Mama," I said, already setting my book aside.

My mother slipped inside, her silk robe trailing after her like a whisper. She always moved gently, like she was afraid of taking up too much space. Her dark hair was pinned back, but a loose strand curled against her cheek. Her eyes-warm, always warm-would have calmed me if not for the way they darted, nervous, toward the hallway.

"Your father..." She hesitated, pressing her lips together. "He's asking for you in his study."

The words made the air shift, heavy and charged. My chest tightened. Father never asked for me unless it meant something serious.

I rose from the bed, smoothing down my nightgown, though my pulse was already racing. "Do you know why?"

Her hands fluttered at her sides, then stilled. She was trying not to show it, but I caught the flicker of apprehension in her eyes. The same look she had when Father dismissed her at dinner, or when she tried to soften his words and he silenced her with a glare.

"I don't," she whispered, though the tension in her voice betrayed her. "But, Isabella..." She stepped closer, her hands gently cupping my face. "Remember what I told you. In this family, strength is survival. Don't let him see fear."

My throat tightened. She had told me this all my life, in a hundred little ways. That one day my path would be decided for me. That marriage would not be a choice, but a weapon. I had prepared for it in theory. Not in practice.

I forced a small smile, covering her hands with mine. "Don't worry, Mama. I'll be fine."

But the look in her eyes said otherwise. She smoothed my hair, kissed my forehead, and let me go-though I knew she wanted to hold on.

I straightened my spine as I left my room, walking down the long corridor toward my father's study. The closer I got, the colder the air seemed to grow.

By the time I reached the heavy double doors, I already knew.

Something was about to change