Chapter Eighteen: The Final Bargain

Antonio watched as Isabella sat before him, her eyes fixed on the contract before her. The legal documents—the papers that would bind her to him in a marriage devoid of love, a union forged only by his will and his power. He could feel the triumph bubbling up inside him, even as his gaze lingered on her. There she was, the innocent, naive beauty his son had come to idolize, now sitting in front of him, caught in his web.

He had done what no one else could. He had broken the hold her father thought he had over his daughter, and now he owned her—body, mind, and soul.

With the contract, Antonio wasn’t just sealing a marriage. He was securing his dominance, his victory in the unspoken war between powerful families. He had made her father play dirty, and now the price was being paid—not just by Leonardo Carlos, but by Isabella herself.

He’d made sure to ensure the agreement was final and unmistakable. Isabella’s signature on the paper would be the stamp of his ownership over her.

Antonio placed the pen in front of her, watching closely as she hesitated. The room was silent, save for the occasional rustle of paper and the weight of his gaze upon her. She seemed lost, unsure of what to do, as if she still hoped for a way out. But he knew better. He had already won.

"Sign it, Isabella," he ordered, his voice low, controlled, and firm.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and for the briefest moment, he saw a flash of defiance. But it was fleeting, quickly replaced by resignation. She knew what he was capable of—he had already proven that in more ways than one. There was no escape, not for her.

Her trembling hand reached for the pen, and for a moment, Antonio felt something stir inside of him—a sharp pang of something he couldn’t name. It was fleeting, and he quickly crushed it, focusing instead on the reality of the situation. This was business. This was about control.

Isabella’s fingers closed around the pen, and without another word, she signed her name on the dotted line. The sound of the ink on paper echoed in the silent room, a symbol of her defeat, her capitulation. The contract was sealed.

Antonio leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled before him as he watched her. His victory was now complete. Isabella Carlos, the naive daughter of the second most powerful mafia family in Italy, was now his.

“You’ve made a wise choice,” he said, his voice laced with cold satisfaction. "You might not realize it now, but you’ll thank me in time."

Isabella didn’t respond. She only stared at the paper in front of her, as if trying to convince herself that this wasn’t happening, that she hadn’t just been forced into a life she never wanted.

Just as the weight of the moment hung in the air, the soft sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, and a small, innocent voice called out from the doorway.

“Papa?” The voice belonged to Luca, Antonio’s son. His small form appeared in the frame, his innocent eyes wide as he looked around the room. His curiosity had led him there, seeking out his father.

When Luca’s gaze landed on Isabella, his face lit up with a radiant smile, a smile so pure and unaffected by the world around him. His eyes sparkled with joy as he took a few steps forward, excited to see someone new.

“Isabella!” Luca exclaimed, his voice high and full of energy. “You’re here! Papa, look! It’s Isabella!”

Antonio’s gaze shifted from Luca to Isabella, and the scene before him hit him with a wave of conflicting emotions. The innocence in his son’s voice, the way Luca’s small face lit up with excitement, seemed almost too pure for this world—a world filled with danger, deceit, and cold, calculated decisions.

Isabella looked up at the sound of Luca’s voice, and for a brief second, there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes, followed by a gentle smile. She was clearly taken aback by Luca’s unguarded enthusiasm, and for a moment, the walls she had carefully built around herself seemed to falter.

Luca, completely unaware of the tension in the room, ran toward her with open arms. He stopped just in front of her, his tiny hands reaching out as if to embrace her in a hug. “You’re so pretty!” he chirped, his voice full of innocent wonder. “I like you! Can we play together?”

Antonio stood up slowly from his chair, a mixture of pride and protectiveness washing over him as he watched the interaction between his son and Isabella. But as much as he felt a sense of satisfaction in seeing Luca so comfortable around Isabella, there was also an undercurrent of tension. He had to keep control of the situation.

Isabella blinked, caught off guard by Luca’s straightforwardness. She looked down at the boy who was practically beaming with joy, and her heart clenched. Despite everything that had happened, the innocence in Luca’s eyes was a stark contrast to the situation she found herself in.

For a moment, she seemed lost for words, unsure of how to react. She glanced up at Antonio, who was watching them with an unreadable expression. His gaze wasn’t soft—far from it. He was watching his son with something like possessiveness, almost as though this little interaction between them meant something deeper.

Luca continued to look up at Isabella, his smile unwavering. “Papa says you’re going to be my new mommy. Is that true?” he asked, tilting his head in a way that made him look even more innocent than he already was.

Isabella’s heart twisted painfully in her chest. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t thought about how Luca might see her. She hadn’t thought about any of it—how everything was changing, how her life was spiraling in a direction she hadn’t chosen.

Antonio’s voice broke the silence, his tone firm and commanding. “Luca, that’s enough for now,” he said, his gaze hardening as he stepped forward, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. He turned his gaze back to Isabella, his eyes cold, calculating. “She’ll be a part of your life, whether she likes it or not.”

Isabella felt the full weight of his words, the finality of them pressing down on her chest like a heavy weight. There was no room for argument, no space for her to resist. This was her life now.

Luca, blissfully unaware of the underlying tension, simply smiled wider, as if everything was perfectly normal. “Yay! We’re going to be a family, right, Isabella?”

The words hit her like a physical blow. A family? What did that even mean anymore? A family built on control, manipulation, and force? A family where she had no say, no power, nothing?

Isabella swallowed hard, her throat dry as she tried to compose herself. “I… I’m sure we’ll all get along,” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Luca clapped his hands in joy. “Yay!” he cheered again, clearly overjoyed at the thought of having someone new in his life. He turned to his father, his eyes shining with excitement. “Papa, can we all play together? Can we go outside? It’s sunny!”

Antonio’s lips curved into a smile, but there was no warmth in it. He looked at his son with a mixture of amusement and possessiveness, as though Luca’s innocent joy was both a source of pride and a reminder of what he had gained.

He walked over to Isabella, his eyes still cold. “Get used to it,” he murmured, his voice low. “This is your life now.”

Isabella’s mind spun, the weight of her situation settling in like a heavy fog. There was no escape, no way out. She had signed away her life, and now she was here—caught between the dark, unyielding reality of Antonio’s world and the small, bright light of Luca’s innocence.

But as she looked at Luca, the pain in her heart deepened. Could she ever be the mother he deserved? Could she find a way to protect him from the very world that had bound her in chains?

For now, all she could do was try to survive. To play the role that had been forced upon her. And to protect Luca—because he, at least, deserved more than this life.

Isabella didn’t know how she would navigate this new reality. But one thing was certain: She would fight to hold onto whatever part of herself she could, for as long as she could.