Chapter 5 - The Marriage That Was Supposed to Be Fake
Lorenzo wanted me hidden.
I refused.
So he offered me something I thought was insane.
Marriage.
Not real marriage.
A legal arrangement designed to protect my identity and inheritance while drawing Victor into a trap.
I laughed in his face.
“You’re proposing?”
“No.”
“You literally said marriage.”
“A strategic alliance.”
“That is somehow worse.”
He remained calm.
“We need Victor to believe the evidence is still hidden.”
“And pretending to be married will do that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Chicago watches everything I do.”
“And now they’ll watch me.”
“Exactly.”
I stared at him.
“You planned this.”
“No.”
“That answer came too quickly.”
He almost smiled.
“I considered it after we left the blue house.”
“Why?”
“Because every time Victor attacks, he gets closer to you.”
“And?”
“I want him to believe you are untouchable.”
“Because you’re my husband?”
“Because you’re mine.”
Silence.
I stared at him.
He seemed to realize how the sentence sounded.
“I meant protected.”
“Of course you did.”
He looked away.
For the first time, the most feared man in Chicago looked embarrassed.
The arrangement was signed two days later.
Private ceremony.
No guests except Olivia and a handful of trusted witnesses.
The ring was simple.
Elegant.
No diamonds.
When Lorenzo slid it onto my finger, he whispered,
“If this becomes too much, tell me.”
I looked at him.
“What happens if I don’t?”
His eyes held mine.
“Then I’ll keep pretending until you stop pretending.”
My heart skipped.
The fake marriage became public within hours.
Chicago went insane.
Photographs appeared everywhere.
Lorenzo Duca had married an unknown architect.
The three women from the beach were furious.
One of them confronted me outside my studio.
“You think you won?”
I stared.
“I didn’t know there was a competition.”
She scoffed.
“You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
I replied calmly.
“I think that’s the first thing you’ve said today that might be true.”
She left.
The next week was chaos.
My studio filled with reporters.
Clients canceled.
Others doubled their fees.
People wanted to know everything about Lorenzo’s mysterious wife.
And Lorenzo?
He remained impossible to read.
Except at night.
When the cameras stopped, he became quieter.
We shared the same penthouse.
Different bedrooms.
Different lives.
At least initially.
One evening I found him asleep on the sofa with a file open on his chest.
I covered him with a blanket.
He woke immediately.
“You should sleep.”
“You should stop working.”
He smiled.
“My wife is giving me orders.”
“Fake wife.”
“Still legally mine.”
I rolled my eyes.
He caught my wrist gently.
“Amelia.”
“What?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For trusting me enough to stay.”
I looked at him.
“I’m not sure I do.”
“I know.”
His honesty disarmed me.
Later that night, we discovered Victor had taken the bait.
A message arrived from one of Lorenzo’s men.
“Victor wants the microfilm. He believes it is stored in the family vault.”
Lorenzo smiled.
“Good.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Give him the vault.”
“What?”
“It’s empty.”
I smiled.
That was when I realized something.
Lorenzo didn’t win because he was stronger.
He won because he was patient.
The trap was set.
Victor’s people broke into the vault.
They found fake evidence.
At the same time, Lorenzo tracked their movements.
Then everything went wrong.
A traitor inside Lorenzo’s organization warned Victor.
Our location was exposed.
A bomb was planted beneath my studio.
I was inside when the alarm triggered.
I ran outside.
The explosion came seconds later.
Windows shattered.
Smoke filled the street.
I heard someone shouting.
“Amelia!”
Lorenzo.
He had arrived just before the explosion.
He ran through the smoke.
I had fallen near the entrance.
He picked me up.
“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t know.”
He held me tighter.
“Look at me.”
I did.
His face was terrified.
Not angry.
Not cold.
Terrified.
“Lorenzo?”
“I thought I lost you.”
His voice cracked.
That was the moment the fake marriage stopped feeling fake.
I touched his face.
“I’m here.”
He closed his eyes.
Then kissed my forehead.
Not passionately.
Desperately.
And I finally understood.
Somewhere between the beach and the blue house, the arrangement had become something neither of us had planned.
The next morning, another secret came to light.
One of Victor’s men had been captured.
He gave us one sentence.
“Victor knows Amelia’s mother is alive.”
I looked at Lorenzo.
“Then we find her first.”
He nodded.
“But there’s more.”
“What?”
“The man inside your organization who betrayed you...”
He hesitated.
“He isn’t a traitor.”
I frowned.
“Then what is he?”
May you like
Lorenzo looked at me.
“My brother.”
