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ella
and the expensive Egyptian cotton duvet, the room felt like a tomb. The soundproofed walls swallowed the silen
he nightstand glowed a
nst my skin. According to the archaic traditions of our world, producing an heir
raised a single finger. A minute gesture, but c
ok at me, his gaze fixed on the dark ceiling. "I need a clear head for the negotiat
ts at my sides. "You said the same thing last month, Vincenz
your place, Isabella," he sneered, the cruelty in his tone slicing through me. "You are a *Collateral Bride*. A pretty asset acquire
rable wall between us. I stood there, stripped of my dig
lay awake, the humiliation burning in my chest. That was when I saw it-the faint, pulsing blu
t kill me; he would make one phone call and cut the life support keeping my mother, Hazle
ared at me. I tried his birthday. Incorrect. The Moretti family founding date. Incorrect. My fingerseen unl
opened a hidden folde
socialite I knew only from the periphery of our world. In one photo, taken on the deck of the family yacht, *Stellamaris*, Vincenzo had his head thrown back in a genui
ext photo that s
late stain ruining his pristine white shirt. In his arms, he held a little girl
and geotag. *Yesterday
in Sicily. While I was locked in this estate, terrified and isolated, he
aporated, instantly freezing
old, burner phone I had managed to hide from his guards. I quickly snapped photos o
y wipe the glass clean of my fingerprints. I placed the tablet back
broken me. He thought I was just a submissive pawn. But as I listened to him breathe, the seed of a *Vendetta* to
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