The scandal died down within hours.
But something else rose in its place.
Attention.
Curiosity.
Obsession.
Aria Lane had unknowingly become the city's new fascination,
the mysterious bride with soft eyes
and a billionaire's protective grip on her waist.
And attention in Dante's world was never harmless.
Two days later, Sofia appeared at Aria's door holding a black envelope trimmed in gold, looking like it might bite.
"Signora Moretti… this arrived for you."
Aria frowned, breaking the seal.
Inside lay a short, elegant note:
"Ladies' Brunch.
Hosted by Isabella Ricci.
Mandatory attendance."
Aria's stomach tightened.
"Who is Isabella Ricci?" she asked.
Sofia hesitated, voice dropping. "She is… was… Signor Moretti's fiancée."
The world seemed to tilt sideways.
"His… what?"
"Before the marriage contract," Sofia whispered. "The arrangement was nearly official."
Aria felt cold creep through her bones.
"Should I go?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.
Sofia swallowed. "The message said attendance is 'expected.' In this world, that is not a suggestion."
Aria closed her eyes.
Of course.
This was Dante's world.
You didn't decline invitations from women who once planned to own him.
Isabella's brunch was held in an impossibly luxurious garden rooftop in the heart of the elite district. White roses cascaded from trellises, gold-trimmed tables glittered in the sunlight, and a dozen impeccably dressed women lounged as though posing for magazine covers.
Aria felt their stares the moment she stepped in.
Every whisper snapped toward her like a blade.
She came.
That's her?
The contract wife.
She looks so… ordinary.
Aria's pulse hammered, but she forced her steps to remain steady.
She had survived the gala.
She could survive this.
Or so she hoped.
A tall, stunning woman with raven-black hair and icy blue eyes approached with deliberate steps, hips swaying in perfect confidence. Her dress was silver silk, shimmering like a blade.
Her smile was beautiful and cruel in equal measure.
"Aria Lane," she purred. "I was beginning to think Dante had locked you in his tower."
Aria managed a polite nod. "Thank you for inviting me."
"Oh, darling," Isabella cooed, touching her arm lightly with nails painted blood red. "This isn't an invitation. It's a courtesy. After all, the least a man can do after breaking an engagement, is let his new… acquisition meet the woman he discarded."
Aria stiffened. "I'm not an acquisition."
Isabella smirked. "Aren't you?"
Isabella led her to a table filled with glamorous women sipping champagne. Their eyes devoured Aria, some curious, some hostile, some amused.
Isabella took her seat like a queen returning to a throne.
"So, Aria," she said sweetly, "tell us how you met Dante."
Aria's throat tightened.
She couldn't tell the truth.
She wouldn't lie well enough to survive.
"I—It's a private matter."
Isabella laughed, sharp and ringing. "Everything becomes public eventually. Especially with him."
The other women tittered.
Aria felt heat rising in her cheeks.
Then Isabella leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
"Tell me, dear… When you married him, did you understand what Dante expects of a wife? Or did you think it would be like a fairy tale?"
Aria swallowed. "I didn't expect anything."
"Ah." Isabella's smile sharpened. "That explains the ring."
Aria's fingers curled instinctively around the simple band.
Isabella's voice dripped poison. "Dante gave me a five-carat Ricci diamond. He gave you… that."
Aria wanted to disappear.
But she forced herself to breathe.
"He gave me what mattered."
"Oh, sweet girl," Isabella said softly, "men like Dante don't give things that matter. They trade them."
The table erupted in cruel laughter.
Then Isabella delivered the blow she had clearly been saving.
"You know," she said casually, "Dante and I were together for five years. He proposed. My family approved the match. Our wedding date was nearly set."
Aria's chest tightened painfully.
"And then suddenly," Isabella continued, swirling her champagne, "he calls it off. No explanation. No reason. Just a message from his assistant."
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper meant for Aria alone.
"And one week later… he marries you."
The world tilted again.
Aria had never asked Dante about past relationships. She didn't want to know.
But now she did.
Too much.
Too vividly.
Isabella placed a manicured hand over her heart. "It must have been humiliating for him, to replace me with someone so… inexperienced."
Aria swallowed hard.
"I didn't replace anyone," she said quietly.
Isabella's eyes glittered. "Then why did he marry you, Aria? What do you have that I don't?"
Aria opened her mouth,
But she had no answer.
She had no power.
She had nothing.
And Isabella knew it.
"You're early."
Isabella's expression froze.
The women fell silent.
Aria didn't need to turn around to know who had arrived.
Dante's voice slid through the garden like velvet dipped in steel.
Aria rose to her feet without thinking.
Dante appeared beside her, dark blue suit immaculate, silver eyes cold enough to shatter glass. Every inch of him radiated controlled danger.
His hand slid around Aria's waist, possessive and unmistakable.
Isabella's lips tightened.
"Dante," she said, smiling smoothly. "I invited your wife so we could welcome her properly."
"That's not what you were doing," Dante replied flatly.
Isabella blinked.
He turned slightly, addressing the entire table with calm lethal clarity.
"Aria is my wife," he said. "Insult her again, and you insult me."
A ripple of fear cut through the garden.
Dante's attention returned to Isabella.
"As for our past," he said icily, "it is exactly that. Past. And none of your concern."
Isabella's mask cracked.
"So you replaced me with her," she whispered.
"No." Dante's grip tightened on Aria's waist. "I chose her."
Aria's breath caught.
Isabella's eyes burned with something between heartbreak and hatred.
"Enjoy your queen, Dante," she spat softly. "But remember, kingdoms fall."
He didn't blink. "Not mine."
Isabella stood, grabbed her clutch, and walked away, leaving the other women scrambling behind her like shadows.
When they were finally alone, Dante turned to Aria.
"You shouldn't have come here."
"I didn't have a choice," she whispered.
He studied her, her stiff shoulders, her trembling hands, her too-fast breaths.
"What did she say to you?"
"Nothing new," Aria murmured. "Just that I don't belong in your world."
Dante stepped closer.
"Aria," he said quietly, "she doesn't belong in my world."
Her breath wavered.
"You're shaking," he observed.
"It was… a lot."
"Look at me."
She did.
And in his eyes she found something she didn't expect.
Not pity.
Not vulnerability.
But a silent promise.
"She will never touch you again," Dante said softly.
Aria exhaled, the tension slowly leaving her body.
And for the first time, she wondered…
If the devil was beginning to protect her
for reasons not written in the contract.