Love runs deep

"Father, Mother, I am getting married." I gazed out at the grey, overcast sky and spoke calmly. "Out of the question!" Father slammed the whisky glass in his hand onto the floor, sending amber liquid and shards of glass scattering everywhere. "Even if it means declaring war on the Moretti family, I won't let you leap into that inferno!" A weight I'd never seen before settled upon my father's face. He seemed to have aged a decade overnight, his once-straight spine now bowed. All of New York knew Marco Moretti and I had been childhood sweethearts. Our union was seen as the perfect alliance between two powerful families. The Matriarch of the Moretti household, Marco's mother, had long regarded me as her daughter-in-law. Yet Marco, trading his family's reputation and influence, secured a contract that thrust me into the arms of Luca Falconi—a man rumoured to be crippled in a family feud, a useless cripple. Rumours began to swirl. "It must be that Elena Costello who's done something unsavoury, otherwise why would Marco humiliate her like this?" "Quite right. That agreement was practically a golden ticket for the Moretti family's standing on the committee. To trade that for such a deal shows just how desperate Marco was to be rid of that woman." "I hear the Costello family strategist spoiled his daughter rotten—she's jealous, spiteful, and has shady dealings with other men behind closed doors!" "No wonder! What man could put up with that?" Overnight, my reputation was utterly ruined at the various family gatherings and card games. Wherever I went, people pointed and whispered. The young ladies from prominent families who once fawned over me now avoided me like the plague. Even my father was publicly chastised at a committee meeting by Marco's father, Don Moretti, who demanded he "keep his own house in order." Fuming with rage, I drove to confront Marco. Yet at his private villa, I stumbled upon him tenderly bandaging the ankle of a young, beautiful woman. That woman was Isabella. "Elena," he said, showing no surprise at my presence. "I know you've come for that agreement. If you agree to let Isabella be with me, I'll withdraw it from the committee tomorrow." His face still bore that familiar smile, yet his words cut like knives. "Rest assured, it's merely a charade." he said. "I need to give her a proper status. That little bastard from the Dawson family won't bother her anymore. Once the fuss dies down, I'll give her some money to leave New York and find a decent man to marry." He spoke with righteous indignation, yet I felt as though my heart had been plunged into ice water—cold and utterly ridiculous. "You could have simply told me. There was no need to sign that agreement. The committee's decision..." "If I'd told you outright, do you think your father would have agreed?" He cut me off, his eyes brimming with reproach, as though I were the one who didn't understand. “Isabella cannot remain unrecognised. How else would she establish herself in this city? Elena, I know what you’re thinking, but if you can placate your father and transfer half your inherited family shares to Isabella as security, I promise that agreement will be nullified immediately.” I stared at the man who had once promised me that Costello and Moretti would have only one mistress—me—and felt my head buzz. Human hearts are fickle; vows turn to dust. I looked at him, wanting to laugh, yet tears fell first.