Page 48 of The Don's Soulmate

“Please, tell me something,” I beg, my voice cracking with desperation. “Anything. Has my fiancé been visiting? Are my father and brother home? Is there any news of what Ugo Caputo is doing with the paintings we gifted him?”

“Mi dispiace, signorina,” she replies stiffly, avoiding my gaze.- I cannot.

Of course she cannot. None of the maids will, fearing retribution from my brother and father.

Frustration mounts with each passing second. I am a prisoner in my own home, my every move dictated by others. My future lies in their hands, and I am powerless to change it. I clench my fists in silent fury, the bitterness of my situation a heavy burden.

“Fine,” I mutter, turning away. “Just leave the food and go.”

She obeys without hesitation, leaving me to brood in solitude. As I pick at my food, my thoughts spiral into darkness. How long will I endure this torment? When will I regain control over my life?

After eating a meager amount, I fall into a deep, dark sleep. Sleep is the only thing that makes reality slightly more bearable.

The next morning, the door to my room creaks open, and my father and brother step inside.

“Papa!” I gasp, standing up. “Angelo!” I rush to them, arms outstretched, but they both take a step back, avoiding my gaze. I drop my arms, feeling a pang of hurt. After all this time, they don’t wish to see me?

“You haven’t visited,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I made a mistake. I have the right to be forgiven.”

"Carlotta, the tailor is here," my father says coldly, his voice lacking any acknowledgment of my distress. Angelo stands beside him, his expression equally indifferent.

“The tailor?” I ask, confused.

"We need to take measurements for the dress you'll wear for your wedding to Signor Caputo."

A knot forms in my stomach at the mention of his name. Given that my father and brother haven’t visited in twenty-eight days, I fear I may never get a chance to plead my case again.

In a desperate attempt to make them understand, I burst out, “Must you really force me into this? I don’t want to marry Ugo Caputo. He’s an awful person who has abused me in terrible ways. If he can do that in public, what will he do to me when we’re married? Please… he could kill me!” My voice breaks, and tears threaten to spill.

“Your feelings are irrelevant,” my father replies dismissively. “This marriage will secure our family’s future. You will fulfill your duty and be grateful for it.” His words slice through me, leaving me feeling raw and exposed.

“Please, Father—” I begin, but he cuts me off with a wave of his hand.

“Enough of your theatrics. Stop being hysterical. Ugo has always been polite. He might have lost his temper over your indiscretions, but you made mistakes too. Behave, and I’m sure he’ll be a dutiful husband.”

“But, Father—”

“Now, the tailor needs to take your measurements for your wedding gown.” With that, he turns away, leaving me with the tailor, who begins his work.

As the tailor measures me, I feel like a lifeless doll being prepared for someone else’s amusement.

“This dress you’re measuring for,” I ask, “Will I have a say in it?”

The tailor, an elderly and genteel man, hesitates. “Oh, my dear,” he says gently, “The dress has already been chosen.”

“Chosen!” I exclaim, shocked. “By whom? May I see it?”

“Signor Caputo himself chose it to suit his tastes perfectly,” the tailor replies. “He has given strict instructions that no one, including the bride, is to see it before the big day. He wants it to be a surprise.”

“But no!” I cry out. “Please, I want to see it.”

“It’s a beautiful dress,” the tailor tries to reassure me. “Gorgeous material, very fashionable. However…” He clears his throat, looking uncertain.

“Yes?” I ask, leaning in. I grasp his hand, forcing him to meet my eyes.

“My dear, if you prefer a more conservative style, this dress might not be what you want.”

My heart sinks as dread settles in my stomach. I can only imagine the scandalous and degrading garment Ugo Caputo would choose for me. The thought of being paraded like a trophy wife fills me with a sickening mix of fear and disgust.

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