Isaia: Chapter 34

The dining room is all polished mahogany and suffocating tension. My mom sits to my left, her smile brittle as she stirs her tea, her gaze flicking nervously between me and Michele, who occupies the head of the table like a self-crowned king.

Anthony is across from me, his easy charm muted under the weight of the room’s oppressive atmosphere. He looks at me, his eyes searching, and I force a polite smile though my insides twist.

Michele leans back in his chair, the picture of smug entitlement, his suit immaculate, his demeanor even more so. He’s the kind of man who uses silence as a weapon, and right now, he’s holding the room hostage with it. I feel the weight of his gaze on me, but I don’t meet it. I can’t, not without showing him the loathing that boils beneath my carefully crafted façade.

I pick up my teacup, the porcelain warm against my trembling fingers. The bitter liquid burns my throat as I swallow, willing myself to stay calm while Michele’s presence sets my teeth on edge. Every smile he gives my mother tightens the resentment in my chest because I know he doesn’t love her; he doesn’t love anyone but himself. He’s a parasite feeding off her vulnerability, and the knowledge that I have to play along with his twisted game makes my stomach churn.

Anthony breaks the silence, looking at Michele. “What is it you wanted to discuss?”

“Everly has something she wants to say to you…don’t you, Everly?”

My heart squeezes, my throat tightening when Anthony says, “You’ve been quiet, Everly. Everything okay?”

I meet his gaze, and it takes everything in me not to let my walls crumble.

His concern is genuine, his kindness undeserved, and it’s that kindness I’ll have to manipulate. The thought makes me want to scream, but I bury it deep, locking it away where it can’t betray me.

“I’ve been thinking,” I say, steady but hollow. “About everything.”

Anthony sets his tea down, his brows drawing together. “And?”

I glance at my mother, who offers me a slight, encouraging nod, then to Michele, whose expression is cold, calculating, a reminder of the stakes.

I swallow hard. “You were right,” I say, the words bitter on my tongue. “About Isaia. He’s not who I thought he was.”

Anthony’s eyes widen slightly, and I see the flicker of surprise he doesn’t quite hide. “I told you he was dangerous.”

“You did,” I agree, lowering my gaze to my lap, where my hands clutch the napkin. “And you were right. It made me realize there’s…there’s only one man who’s ever truly cared about me. One man who I know will care for me…always.”

His jaw tightens, his hand flexing on the table. “Everly⁠—”

“It’s you, Anthony,” I cut in, lifting my head to meet his gaze, forcing sincerity into my voice. “I’ve been running for so long, convincing myself I didn’t need stability, that I didn’t need you. But I was wrong. You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel safe.”

A beat of silence stretches between us, heavy and taut. My heart pounds as I wait for him to speak, for his reaction to betray whether he believes me.

Michele’s gaze is like a blade, slicing through the fragile composure I’ve barely managed to hold together. Every word I say feels like another chain tightening around me, another step away from the freedom I crave but can never reach.

“You’ve been dead set against this marriage for years. Are you sure about this?” Anthony asks.

“I am.” I inhale deeply. “It’s what I want. And…I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.”

Anthony leans back, his expression unreadable, the silence excruciating. Then, he nods. “If that’s how you feel,” he says slowly, “then that’s what we’ll do.”

“Fantastic,” Michele says, all business-like as though we’re not talking about my life, my freedom—my hell. “We’ll start the preparations.”

I blink. “What?”

“You and Anthony will get married within the week,” he says, his tone firm, decisive.

My stomach drops. “That’s…soon.”

“If you’re both sure about this,” he continues, “then why wait?”

I grab the courage to glance at Anthony, and his gaze is still firmly on me—pensive, considering.

“Love,” Michele says to my mother, “you should contact the wedding planner who worked on the Martin and De Luca wedding. Get the ball rolling as soon as possible.”

“Of course. She did a splendid job.” My mom stands and places her hands on my shoulders, squeezing. “You’re making the right choice, darling. You’ll see.”

Tears sting my eyes, hearing the pride in her voice like I just did the one thing that secures her happiness—but she doesn’t know I did the one thing that would save her life.

Michele’s excitement radiates from him, and I want to scream, to tell Anthony to run, to tell my mom to get a new husband, and Michele to burn in hell. But I nod instead because I have no choice.

Anthony leans forward. “Are you okay with the wedding being so soon?”

“Of course,” I say, hiding my heartache. “Like Michele said, there’s no point in waiting.”

Anthony’s eyes linger on me, something calculating in his expression. “Great. Well,” he stands and looks at my stepdad, “Michele, if you’ll excuse me and my new fiancée. We have much to discuss. Alone.”

I glance at Michele, who gives me a sharp look, a reminder of what’s at stake, and I nod, pushing my chair back and standing.

Anthony leads me out of the dining room and into the study, where the air feels less oppressive but no less suffocating. He closes the door behind us, turning to face me with a seriousness that makes my throat tighten.

“Cut the bullshit, Everly. And tell me what’s really going on?”

I balk. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t want this,” he says, gesturing between us. “I’ve known you long enough to see when you’re putting on an act. What’s happening, Everly? Why are you doing this?”

Tears well up, and I blink rapidly, trying to hold them back. “I’m agreeing to marry you. Willingly.”

“I don’t buy it.” He places his hands on his waist. “A week ago, you were in Chicago, making it clear that you chose Isaia. And now you’re here, agreeing to a marriage you’ve been dead set against since the beginning?” Concern flashes in his eyes. “Did he hurt you, Everly?”

“Who?”

“Isaia. Did he hurt you? Do you need protection? Is that why you’re agreeing to this?”

The mention of Isaia sends a pang straight through me, and I struggle to keep my composure—struggle to keep the pain from crippling me right in front of the man I need to convince, or I lose my mother.

But Anthony knows me; he can see right through me. If I tell him about Michele’s threat, that I’m being forced to do this, he’ll start a war against my stepdad. He made that clear. But while that war’s raging, time will be running out for my mom.

Michele doesn’t make idle threats. He’ll make sure my mom dies a slow, bitter death while Anthony keeps the promise he made me. And even if I tell my mother everything, she won’t listen to me. She never has—not when it comes to her husband.

I have no choice. I have to make this all seem real, and the only way to do that…is to lie.

“Yes.” The words slice up my throat. “You were right. I was in too deep, and being your wife is the only way I can get out of it.”

I know all about their rules, how wives are off-limits, something sacred no other man could touch, no matter the circumstances. If I can’t convince Anthony that this is what I really want, I’ll convince him this is what I need.

“Please, Anthony,” I beg, and his eyes darken.

“Tell me what he did to you. Tell me what he’s threatening you with.”

“Don’t make me say it,” I plead because there is nothing to say. There is no threat, nothing I need protection against except my stepdad, but Anthony can’t know. He can never know. “I know you’ve done so much for me, and you’ve always protected me. And now I’m asking you one last time to …keep me safe.”

A tear slips free, the lie cutting through my insides, plowing through my heart—and a gentle sob slips out with a breath.

“Jesus, Everly.” Anthony sweeps me into his arms, cradling me against his chest. “What the fuck did that bastard do to you?”

Tears come down hard and fast, the pain excruciating, the betrayal killing me from the inside. Out of everything, this is the worst part—the part where I have no choice but to use the man who makes my soul come alive, who manages to make my heart beat faster than ever before, who’s claimed every part…maybe even my heart. I’m using the man I’ve fallen in love with to save my mother’s life.

Anthony squeezes me tighter, his head leaning on mine.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he murmurs. “But I swear to you, I’ll make him pay for hurting you, Everly. I’m going to fucking destroy him.”

“No!” I pull back from his chest and look up into his stormy eyes. He looks down at me, a terrifying promise of violence echoing in his gaze. “I don’t want you to do that. Promise me you won’t hurt him.”

He frowns in question.

“I…” Jesus, I’m scrambling for words. “I don’t want a war, Anthony. I want to move on with my life, with you…and never see or even think about Isaia ever again.” My heart splinters into nothing, leaving a giant hole inside my chest. “Please…promise me. No violence. No retaliation. Just us and a future without Isaia’s shadow hanging over us.”

“Everly, I can’t⁠—”

“Promise me!” I press, desperation clawing at my bones. “Please.” My voice breaks as tears spill. “If you’ve ever cared about me or thought of me as more than a friend, just marry me, and let’s move on.”

The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken words. My heart aches, not for Anthony, but for Isaia—the man I can’t have, the man I want with every broken piece of me. The thought of never seeing him again, never feeling his touch, his kiss, is a pain so sharp it’s suffocating—and the lie, the deceit, it makes it all a thousand times worse.

Anthony exhales, his grip tightening on my hand.

“Okay,” he says finally. “If that’s what you want.”

It’s not. But I nod anyway because it’s the only choice I have.

“I need to make some calls. From now on, you’ll have twenty-four-seven security so that bastard can’t come anywhere near you.” He kisses my forehead, his lips lingering for a second too long. “I’m going to keep you safe, Everly. I swear it.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, biting back the need to sob as I watch him walk out with his phone in hand.

The second the door closes behind him, I drop to my knees, a sob ripping through my chest—so violent, so painful, I forget how to breathe.

The guilt coils tight, claws tearing my insides apart, and I can’t shake the image of Isaia’s face if he knew—if he could see the way I’m weaving this web of deception. I am severing every thread that connects us for the sake of a choice that isn’t even my own. It’s a deep betrayal that fractures my soul, leaving nothing but jagged edges behind.

“I’m sorry,” I wail between tears. “I’m so sorry.”

Everything aches, yet nothing’s alive inside me anymore. Michele’s blackmail and my lies…it killed all of me at once. And while I sit here on the cold floor crying, breaking, I have no idea if I’ll ever find the strength to piece myself back together.

Maybe I don’t deserve to.