Riley:
The phone rings and my whole body goes rigid.
Three days. I've had three days of quiet. Three days of waking up without Marcus standing over me. Three days of eating breakfast without permission. Three days of walking through the penthouse without anyone asking where I'm going.
Three days of freedom I forgot existed.
Now the phone is ringing and my brain immediately goes to worst case scenarios. Marcus found me. The lawyers made a mistake. The dissolution didn't go through. I have to go back.
I stare at the unknown number flashing on the screen. My new phone. The one Dante gave me that Marcus can't track. The one that's supposed to be safe.
My hand shakes as I answer. "Hello?"
"Mrs. Salvatore, this is Sarah from Mr. Salvatore's office."
Relief floods through me so fast I nearly drop the phone. Not Marcus. Just Dante's assistant.
"Mr. Salvatore asked me to inform you that his grandfather has requested to meet you. Today. He's sending a car in two hours."
My relief evaporates. "His grandfather? Today? I can't just—"
"Mr. Salvatore will meet you at the car. He said to dress casually. The drive to the Hamptons is about two hours."
She hangs up before I can argue.
I stand frozen in the middle of my bedroom holding the phone. Vittorio Salvatore. Dante's dying grandfather. The whole reason this contract exists.
Panic crawls up my throat.
I'm supposed to convince Vittorio that Dante and I are really married. Really in love. Really building a life together. But we've barely spoken in three days. Dante leaves for work before I wake up and comes home after I'm asleep. We're strangers living in the same space.
How am I supposed to fake being his devoted wife when I don't know anything about him?
I race to my closet. Casual, Sarah said. But what does casual mean to billionaires? I've been wearing the same three outfits for three days because everything I own came from one suitcase.
Finally I pick jeans and a simple sweater. Nothing fancy. Nothing that screams I'm trying too hard.
Two hours later I'm standing in the lobby when Dante walks in wearing dark jeans and a black sweater that makes him look less like a ruthless CEO and more like a dangerously handsome stranger.
Our eyes meet. He nods once.
"Ready?"
No. I'm terrified. "Sure."
The car waiting outside is sleek and black with a driver who doesn't speak. Dante holds the door open for me and I slide in. He gets in on the other side and suddenly we're alone together for the first time since signing the contract.
The silence is suffocating.
"Your grandfather," I start. "What should I know about him?"
"He's dying. Lung cancer. Sharp mind in a failing body." Dante stares out the window as the city blurs past. "He sees through lies so don't bother trying."
Great. My one job is to convince this man we're in love and Dante just told me he'll see through everything.
"Then what do you want me to do?"
"Be yourself. Vittorio will like you."
"How do you know?"
For the first time Dante looks at me. Really looks at me. "Because you have kind eyes. And Vittorio values kindness above everything else."
The compliment catches me off guard. I don't know what to say so I just nod and look out my own window.
The drive takes forever. We pass through the city into suburbs then into areas with bigger houses and more space. Finally we turn onto a private road lined with trees.
The Salvatore estate appears like something from a movie. Massive mansion. Perfectly manicured grounds. The kind of place where people like me don't belong.
My stomach twists into knots.
"Relax," Dante says quietly. "Vittorio doesn't care about money or status. He cares about people."
"That's easy for you to say. You belong here."
Dante's laugh is bitter. "I've never belonged anywhere."
The confession surprises me but before I can respond the car stops. A staff member opens my door and suddenly we're walking toward the mansion together.
Dante's hand finds the small of my back. The touch is light. Barely there. But it steadies me somehow.
We walk through a massive entrance hall and down a corridor. Finally we reach a sunroom filled with light and plants. And sitting in a chair with an oxygen tube in his nose is an old man with the sharpest eyes I've ever seen.
Vittorio Salvatore.
He looks at me and smiles. The smile transforms his whole face from intimidating to warm.
"So this is the girl who finally caught my grandson's attention."
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Dante's hand presses slightly against my back. A reminder to breathe.
"Nonno, this is Riley. Riley, my grandfather Vittorio."
Vittorio waves us closer. I walk over on legs that barely work and he takes my hand in both of his. His skin is paper thin but his grip is strong.
"You have kind eyes," he says softly. "Dante needs kind."
The words hit me right in the chest. This dying man with his oxygen tube and failing body sees something in me that I forgot existed.
"Thank you," I whisper.
Vittorio pats my hand then lets go. "Sit. Both of you. Tell me how you met."
Dante and I exchange a glance. We didn't prepare a story. Didn't coordinate lies.
"At a charity gala," Dante says smoothly. "Riley was there with her ex-husband. I saw her across the room and couldn't look away."
It's close enough to the truth that I can nod along. "Dante was very persistent."
Vittorio laughs. "That sounds like him. Once Dante decides he wants something he doesn't stop until he has it."
We sit for an hour answering questions. Vittorio asks about our wedding. About how we fell in love. About our plans for the future. Dante weaves truth and fiction together so seamlessly I almost believe our story myself.
But Vittorio's sharp eyes keep finding mine. Like he's looking for something underneath the performance.
Finally he announces it's time for dinner.
The dining room is formal and beautiful. Vittorio sits at the head of the table. Dante and I sit on either side. Staff brings food that smells incredible but I can barely taste anything through my nerves.
Then I see it.
Dante reaches over and cuts Vittorio's steak into smaller pieces. Doesn't ask. Doesn't make a show of it. Just does it like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Vittorio thanks him quietly and Dante nods. Then he adjusts his grandfather's oxygen tube when it slips.
The cold ruthless billionaire I married becomes someone completely different. Gentle. Patient. Loving.
This is the real Dante under all that ice. This is who he is when he thinks no one is watching.
My heart does something dangerous. Something I specifically told myself not to let happen.
I start caring about him.
After dinner Vittorio insists on showing me his garden. Dante helps him stand and the old man waves him away.
"I want to talk to your wife alone. Go make some phone calls or whatever you do."
Dante hesitates but Vittorio gives him a look. Finally Dante leaves and I'm alone with his grandfather.
We walk slowly through the garden. Vittorio's breathing is labored but he doesn't complain. Just points out different flowers and tells me their names.
"My Sofia loved gardens," he says. "She's been gone fifteen years but I keep it beautiful for her."
"That's sweet."
"That's love." He stops walking and turns to face me. "Riley, I know this marriage is a contract."
My blood turns to ice. "What?"
"I'm dying, not stupid. Dante needs my approval to inherit. You need freedom from an abusive husband. I know everything."
I can't breathe. Can't think. "If you know then why—"
"Because I also know my grandson." Vittorio's eyes soften. "And I see how he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching."
"How does he look at me?"
"Like you matter. Like you're oxygen and he's been holding his breath for years." He takes my hand again. "That boy hasn't looked at anything except revenge since Leo died. But you make him look up. That's enough for me."
Tears fill my eyes. "This isn't real. We barely know each other."
"Not yet. But it could be real if you both let it." Vittorio squeezes my hand. "I don't care how this marriage started, Riley. I care that you're good for him. And you are."
"How can you know that?"
"Because he smiled at dinner. A real smile. I haven't seen that in ten years." His voice cracks. "I'm dying and my greatest fear is leaving Dante alone. But maybe now he won't be."
The weight of his words settles over me like a blanket. This old man is putting all his hope in a fake marriage. Believing it can become something real.
"I can't promise anything," I whisper.
"I'm not asking for promises. I'm asking you to give him a chance." Vittorio's eyes hold mine. "Can you do that?"
I think about Dante cutting his grandfather's food. About the gentleness underneath all that ice. About how he's kept every promise so far.
"Yes. I can do that."
Vittorio smiles and for a second he looks young again. Happy. Full of hope.
"Good. Now let's go back inside before Dante comes looking for us. He worries too much."
We walk back toward the mansion. As we get closer I see Dante standing at the window watching us. Our eyes meet through the glass.
And I realize Vittorio is right.
Dante does look at me differently. Like I matter. Like I'm something precious he's trying to protect.
The contract was supposed to keep this simple. Business only. No emotions.
But standing in this garden with Vittorio's words still echoing in my head, I realize it's already too late.
This stopped being simple the moment I signed my name.