"If you truly wanted me," Sara began, "then you wouldn't have humiliated me seven years ago in front of the entire class. And you certainly wouldn't have insulted me again by offering a contract marriage."
She gave him a shove, forcing some space between them, and turned away. "My head aches. I want to sleep. Since you insist we share a room, I'll be taking the bed. You can have the floor, or the couch."
"The bed is mine," Luca countered.
"No," Sara snapped back, and before he could move, she rushed across the room. Kicking off her heels, she climbed onto the mattress, sliding to the center and sweeping the duvet aside like it was a flag of victory. Settling in, she tilted her head toward him, eyes glittering with defiance.
"You'll regret making me your wife," she declared. "We've always been rivals, Luca. And in case you've forgotten. I don't love you anymore. Not even an ounce."
"Aren't you hungry? You barely touched your plate earlier," Luca said as he shrugged off his blazer and tossed it onto the chair.
"I'm not hungry," Sara replied. Her voice trembled as her eyes glistened. "Do you think I was excited about this wedding? I agreed only because it was the only way to save Falcone Industries. And now, I can't even swallow a bite knowing my father has disowned me. Every woman dreams of holding her father's arm while walking down the aisle…" Her words broke, and tears slid quietly down her cheeks.
Luca's jaw tightened. "What does any of this have to do with me? Did I force you into this? No. You signed the papers yourself. If you regret it, blame your own decisions. And stop crying. I can't stand it," he snapped at her coldly.
Sara quickly turned her head away, dabbing her tears with the back of her hand, her silence louder than any retort.
Rolling his eyes, Luca strode into the washroom. He splashed water onto his face, gripping the sink as he stared into the mirror. For longer than a moment, he just looked at the man staring back.
'Her tears shouldn't bother me,' he told himself, grabbing a towel and drying his face. Yet when his gaze drifted to the gold band on his finger, an uncomfortable heaviness settled in his chest.
'Sara… maybe I made a mistake rejecting your feelings. I don't love you. But you're the only woman I know who can survive a year with me without asking for anything in return.'
When he returned, the room had dimmed, the only glow coming from a lamp at the far end. Sara had curled on her side, already fast asleep.
"How can she fall asleep so quickly?" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He slipped his phone from the blazer and left the room quietly.
Dropping onto the couch in the living room, his eyes lingered on the whiskey decanter. He poured himself a glass. Just as he raised it to his lips, his phone buzzed.
He didn't need to check the screen to know who it was. As expected, his mother's name flashed across it.
"Come home tomorrow with your wife. Your father is pretty mad about your choice," Vanni said from the other side.
"When did Dad ever like the choices I have made?" Luca murmured, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling above him. "Sara is waiting for me. Good night," he said and hung up the call.
Tossing the phone on the couch, he brought the glass to his mouth and sipped the alcohol slowly.
~~~~~
The next morning, Sara stirred awake as a cool breeze swept across her skin, sending an unexpected shiver through her body. Her lashes fluttered, and when her eyes finally adjusted, she realized she wasn't in her own bedroom, she was in Luca's house.
Her gaze darted around in quiet disbelief, trying to piece together the events of the night before. Instinctively, her hands went to her dress. It was still clinging to her body, though slightly wrinkled from sleep. Relief passed over her, but it didn't ease the stiffness in her neck or the dull ache running through her legs as she slowly pushed herself upright.
"When did I fall asleep?" she whispered groggily, rubbing at her tired eyes. She didn't find Luca in the room, which was a relief for her. In the early morning, she didn't wish to argue with him.
Sara went to the washroom, freshened up, and changed into a more comfortable dress. After carefully lowering the heavy wedding gown onto the bed, she was about to sit when a soft knock echoed at the door.
She opened it to find a maid standing there. "Sir has called you downstairs," the maid informed politely before turning to leave.
Sara quickly removed the towel from her damp hair, gave herself a quick glance in the mirror, and then hurried out.
As she descended the staircase, her steps slowed when her eyes landed on a familiar figure standing in the living room. Her heart leapt.
"Dad!" Sara's face brightened with joy, her voice carrying the warmth of a daughter's longing. She rushed toward him and bowed her head slightly in greeting.
But Adam didn't respond, nor did he glance at her. The joy on Sara's face faltered. Her fingers curled tightly around the fabric of her dress, trying to ground herself.
Before she could gather the courage to ask, Luca appeared at her side.
"I've returned the company to your father," Luca announced.
Sara's eyes widened in shock. "What?" she whispered, whipping her head toward him, searching his face for answers.
Adam's voice broke the silence. "You're no longer the CEO of Falcone Industries."
Sara blinked in disbelief. "What? Why—why would you do this, Dad?"
"You seem to have forgotten that I'm still the chairman of the company," Adam replied. "Even if Falcone became a subsidiary of the Augustino Group, I hold the authority to decide who leads it and what has to do with it. And I dismiss you from that position. Since you chose to marry him, then fulfill your role as his wife. But my words remain the same, you are no longer a Falcone."
He rose to his feet and cast a brief look at Luca. "Thank you for not compromising the ethics of business." Without sparing another glance at his daughter, Adam turned and walked away with his secretary.
"No… no, this can't be true," Sara murmured. She broke into a run, chasing after him.
"Dad!" she cried out. Adam stopped at the bottom of the staircase, tilting his head just enough to see her. Sara rushed down and caught his hand, her voice trembling.
"Dad, don't say I'm no longer your daughter," she pleaded desperately. "Yes, I made a mistake, but you can't cast me aside like this. You were always proud of me. I—I never put myself above the company, above you."
Adam yanked his hand free, stepping back with disdain. "You chose this path alone. Now bear the consequences. You've turned out exactly like your mother."
His words struck her like a blade, but Sara refused to falter. "I am not like my mother!" she cried. "If anything, you're the one who never acted like a father. I had to fight for every scrap of acknowledgement in your house. I had to prove my worth every single day. When Mom left, I thought you'd never abandon me too, but I was wrong. You married another woman. You've only ever used me."
Adam's eyes blazed with fury. "What did you just say?" he hissed, marching back toward her. His hand lifted, ready to strike, but his hand froze in midair.