Chapter 2 Two

• POV Isabella:
• The silence in the private room of the Castellano casino is too dense. I watch my father's hands hold the cards with apparent calm, but I detect a slight tremor in his fingers.
• On the other hand, Matteo Castellano, our host and rival, keeps his face impassive as he raises the stakes. This game stopped being a simple pastime hours ago, now it is a battle of power, and we are losing.
• "Two hundred thousand," Castellano says, pushing chips toward the center of the table.
• My father takes a deep breath, I know well that he doesn't have that amount. The last shipments were intercepted, our coffers are empty and the only money we have left is invested in property. Still, he nods and pushes his own chips.
• I stand behind my father, like his silent shadow. From my position, I can see the cards of both of them. Castellano has royal flush, and my father has only two pair. It will be a crushing defeat.
• Castellano reveals his hand and the room freezes. My father's face hardens until it seems to be made of stone.
• "Looks like luck is not on your side today, Antonio," Castellano says with a cold smile.
• "A bad night can happen to anyone, even me," my father replies, trying to sound casual.
• Castellano gestures to one of his men, who places a ledger on the table. "That's five hundred thousand in total. I expect full payment by Monday."
• Three days. It is impossible to achieve that amount in such a short time.
• "I need more time, Matteo," my father says. His voice sounds strangely humble. "You know I always pay my debts, but I'm not a banker, I'm just a man of my word."
• "Business is business, Antonio. Monday, or I'll have to take action."
• My father runs a hand over his face. I see him thinking, calculating and despairing in silence. Then his gaze drifts to me. A shiver runs down my spine, that doesn't promise anything good.
• "I have a proposal," he finally says. "A deal that would benefit both families."
• Castellano arches an eyebrow, interested. "I hear you."
• "Your daughter Sofia needs a husband. My son Isidro needs a wife. A union between our families would be... quite strategic."
• I feel the ground wobble under my feet. Is he offering me as payment? Me?
• Castellano watches me with appraising eyes and I stand my ground, even though inside I'm screaming.
• "Interesting," he finally says. "A marriage alliance might be beneficial, but it doesn't cancel your debt."
• "Of course," my father quickly replies. "The debt will be paid. I only ask for time."
• Castellano leans back in his chair, thoughtful. "The wedding could take place in three months. In the meantime, I need a guarantee."
• "What guarantee?"
• "Your son," Castellano says, pointing at me. "He will live in my house until the wedding. As a guest, of course."
• As a hostage, he means. A prisoner exchange disguised as a courtesy.
• "Father," I try to interject, but his gaze silences me.
• "I accept," says my father, without consulting me.
• The agreement is sealed with a handshake. I feel nauseous just thinking about it.
• "Tomorrow afternoon we expect him," Castellano says, getting up. "My daughter will be delighted to meet her fiancé."
• The word "fiancé" echoes in my head like a gunshot. A farce on top of another farce. A man who doesn't exist engaged to a woman I don't know.
• The trip home is spent in stony silence, but as soon as we enter my father's office I explode with rage.
• "How could you do this to me?" I scream, forgetting to keep my voice low. "Sell me like I'm merchandise?"
• "Keep your voice down," my father commands. "The walls have ears."
• "I don't give a shit! You offered me to Castellano to save your ass! What do you think will happen when they find out I'm a woman?"
• My father slaps me. The slap echoes in the room.
• I stand still and bring my hand very slowly to my cheek.
• "They'll never find out," he says quietly. "Because you won't let them. This is temporary, Isidro. I just need time to raise the money and pay off the debt."
• "And then what?" I reply in a defeated voice. "Will you call off the engagement? Castellano will kill us both."
• "I'll find a solution," he replies simply, pouring himself a scotch. "I always do."
• I want to scream, to break things, to run away. But where would I go? The whole world knows me as Isidro Ricci. Isabella doesn't exist in any document, in any memory except mine.
• "What if I refuse?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
• My father looks at me with cold eyes. "You won't refuse. It's for the family. For our survival."
• The same excuse as always: the family. As if I were part of it and not just a tool.
• "Pack your bags," he says. "Tomorrow you'll leave with them."
• "What about my identity? The bandages, the clothes..."
• "You'll take what you need," she interrupts me. "You'll keep your room locked. You're smart, you'll find a way."
• As always, the practical problems are mine, he just gives orders.
• I go up to my room and slam the door. I want to cry, but the tears won't come. Maybe I've forgotten how to cry and have become an unfeeling robot after all. Or maybe I've already cried so much during my life that I've run out of tears.
• I open the closet and take out a suitcase. I pack in it several suits, shirts and ties, everything that keeps the lie alive. I also pack the bandages, the shoes with discreet elevators, the razor that I never use but must always be visible in my bathroom.
• I sit on the bed, holding in my hands the only photo I have of my mother. She was beautiful, with a sad smile. What would she think of me now, of the life I have been forced to live?
• I keep the photo in an inside pocket of the suitcase. At least I'll have something of mine in that strange house.
• The next day comes all too soon. I hide my chest with special care and put on one of my best suits. I must be perfect, more convincing than ever.
• "Remember," my father says as the car waits outside at dusk. "This is temporary. Keep your eyes open, don't do anything suspicious and learn their weaknesses. It could come in handy later."
• Always calculating, always manipulating. I wonder if he ever saw me as his daughter and not as a piece on his board.
• "I will," I reply dryly.
• I get into the car without looking back and the driver starts. I watch the mansion where I have lived all my life drive away through the window. My familiar jail will be replaced by an unknown one.
• I have never been so imprisoned as I am now.