Chapter One_ Meet Matteo Nevarro

*Valentina*

"You’ll take Isabella’s place, Valentina. There’s no other choice."

My mother's words echoed in my mind as I stood at the gates of the Nevarro Estate, the world as I knew it crumbling beneath my feet.

Those iron gates loomed above me, cold and unyielding like the man who owned the.

"Your sister is gone. Disappeared without a trace. The little wretch took all the money we had too."

The estate was every bit as grand and imposing as I'd imagined, a testament to the wealth and power of the Nevarro family. But there was nothing coming about it.

It was a fortress, and I was its latest prisoner.

"Marry Matteo Nevarro. Have his heirs, and nothing would ever happen to you again."

I had never been here before, not even when my father had to come because of his little business with the former Don.

Mom always kept me away, insisting that it was unnecessary to let him know he had two daughters.

It had been Isabella who was promised to Matteo Nevarro, not me.

Never me.

But with Isabella gone, I had to step up and take her place.

No one arrived at the gates to help me with my bags. I had to drag it down the long driveway, the weight of it pulling at my arms.

It was filled with books and my favorite paintbrushes, a remnant of the life I had left behind.

"No wonder Isabella ran away; the guy must be a dick," I muttered under my breath, cursing when no one from this vast estate came to help me. Not that I expected any help from a place as cold and indifferent as this.

The doors to the estate opened with a creak, and there he stood.

Matteo Nevarro.

Exactly as I had seen in those photographs of him, and yet more.

So much more.

With hair as dark as the night sky, and eyes a striking blue - the colour of stormy seas - he looked like he came straight out of a magazine.

"Miss Russo," he said, his voice smooth as velvet. "Or should I say Mrs Nevarro?"

His words were like a slap, a confirmation of the new identity that had been forced upon me.

"Valentina Nevarro," I replied, my voice trembling despite my efforts to make it steady.

"Come inside."

He didn't wait for a response before turning on his heel and disappearing back into the mansion.

Should I follow him?

This was my opportunity to run away and be free.

"And your mother would be dead come morning," a voice in my head whispered, treacherous and unrelenting.

So, I stepped inside.

The interior of the mansion was as cold and intimidating as its exterior.

High ceilings, dark marble floors stretched beneath my feet, and the walls werelijed with expensive art.

A place devoid of any emotions.

Matteo led me through a maze of hallways until we reached a large, dimly lit room.

A fire crackled in the fireplace, casting deep shadows across the walls.

"You can sit." He said, gesturing to the chair close to me.

I obeyed, sinking into it without a second thought.

"You know why you’re here," he said, finally breaking the silence.

I swallowed hard, nodding. "Yes."

This was the man I was married to. Someone as cold as a block of ice. I knew my role in his life - produce heirs, be a doting wife who attended functions, and keep my mouth shut.

I was nothing more than a pawn in a game of chess.

"Good," Matteo said, leaning back in his chair. "Your sister was a tricky little thing. She challenged me in ways I didn’t expect. I never imagined she would..."

Run away. I helped him finish.

The words were heavy, laden with anger and disappointment.

A surge of anger bubbled inside me.

Isabella was gone now, and with her, the life of freedom I had hoped to live.

"My mother... she forced me into this," I said, my voice weak even to my own ears.

Matteo’s eyes narrowed slightly, the only sign that my words had any impact. "A wise choice. It is unwise to break a contract with the Nevarros."

But Nevarros could break a contract without anything happening.

He could have rejected me.

"I will do my best to fulfil my role," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "But I won’t be a pawn in your game."

My hands shook as I spoke, betraying just how terrified I was.

Matteo's lips curled into a faint smile, one that held no warmth. "Good. You have some bite. But you belong to me, Valentina, and what you think doesn't matter."

His words were like a punch to the gut, a reminder that there was no escape for me. No way out.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "I’m not Isabella Russo."

Matteo leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. "I want your obedience, your loyalty... and for Isabella to watch as I break you."

The air left my lungs in a rush, my mind reeling from his words. "You love Isabella," I said, my voice trembling.

It wasn’t a question. It was a fact.

His expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something dark and unreadable. "Love is a luxury that doesn’t come easily to me. I cared for Isabella, but I did not love her."

The tears I had been holding back threatened to spill over, but I refused to let them. "I will do whatever you ask," I said, my voice steady even as my heart pounded in my chest. "But I won’t be a second Isabella. Not for you, and not for anyone else."

Matteo’s eyes darkened, his gaze piercing through me. "You are already her replacement, Valentina. That counts as a second Isabella."

The tension in the room was so thick I could barely breathe.

No matter what I said or did, Matteo Navarro would always see me as nothing more than a substitute, a placeholder for the woman he had lost. I would never be a wife, never be anything more than a shadow of my sister.

Matteo stood abruptly, the movement breaking the heavy silence. "You’ll stay in the west wing of the mansion. Your quarters have been prepared, and everything you need is there."

I stood as well, though my legs felt like they might give out beneath me. "Was Isabella supposed to stay in a separate wing?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it.

"No," Matteo replied, turning to face me once more. "Isabella was to stay in my wing."

His words hit me like a blow.

I had known the answer before he spoke it, but hearing it out loud made it all the more real.

My place was not with him—not in his wing, not in his life. I was nothing more than a tool to be used, discarded when my purpose was fulfilled.

Matteo led me to the west wing, stopping in front of a heavy wooden door. He pushed it open, revealing the lush bedroom within. "This will be your room," he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle. "Stay here until the servants resume tomorrow."

"Goodnight," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper.

If he heard me, he gave no sign, turning and walking away without a backwards glance. I was left alone, surrounded by the cold, lifeless luxury of my new prison.

I moved to the window, pushing back the heavy curtains to stare outside at the fading light.

The garden below was in full bloom, a riot of colours and life that felt like a cruel contrast to the darkness that surrounded me.

Somewhere out there, Isabella was living her best life, drinking or dancing. Perhaps even with another man.

Why had she left me to face this nightmare alone?