The bells of Santa Lucia tolled across the lake, their echo carrying through the shimmering air of Lake Como. Guests sat in hushed anticipation beneath a canopy of white roses and crystal chandeliers strung from ancient olive trees. The Romano estate, with its marble terraces and glittering fountains, had been transformed into a palace of celebration. Every corner whispered of wealth and power.
But Isabella Conti could barely breathe.
The lace veil itched against her skin, and the corset of her gown pressed her ribs until she felt caged. The mirror reflected a perfect bride—dark curls pinned into an elegant bun, eyes lined with kohl, lips painted the shade of roses in bloom. Yet inside, she was trembling.
Her father's voice echoed in her mind: This is your duty, Isabella. Marry Alessandro Romano and secure the alliance. It is what families like ours do.
Duty. Alliance. Business. Not love.
Her eyes darted to the window. Beyond the manicured gardens lay the lake, sparkling in the sunlight like freedom itself. The breeze teased the veil, whispering possibilities, daring her to make the choice she had been too afraid to name.
A knock rattled the door. "Ten minutes, signorina," said the wedding planner's muffled voice.
Isabella's heart raced. Ten minutes to a lifetime of silence. Ten minutes before she would become Mrs. Alessandro Romano, bound to a man whose touch already chilled her skin.
She closed her eyes, recalling the first time she met Alessandro. He had swept into their family's Milanese villa with the kind of arrogance only money could polish. Handsome, yes—dark-haired, sharp-jawed—but his smile never reached his eyes. His promises of security had felt more like chains. In every conversation, he had spoken not of love but of mergers, assets, and appearances.
And today, she was expected to vow herself to him forever.
Her hands trembled as she lifted the heavy skirts of her gown. She had thought about this moment for weeks, even dreamed of it. But could she actually do it? Could she run away and shatter everything her family demanded of her?
The bells tolled again, louder this time, and her pulse leaped. She did not think. She moved.
Isabella grabbed the veil and yanked it free, tossing it onto the vanity. With a gasp, she slipped off the diamond earrings her mother had insisted upon, leaving them abandoned like relics of a life she no longer wanted. Lifting the hem of her dress, she pushed open the balcony doors and stepped into the sunlight.
The air tasted of liberation.
She scanned the gardens below. Guests had not yet gathered near the aisle—they were still sipping champagne, unaware that the bride was making her escape.
A gardener's path wound discreetly along the hedge toward the gate. It was now or never.
Kicking off her jeweled heels, Isabella climbed down from the balcony, clutching the silk in her fists to keep from tripping. Her bare feet stung against the gravel, but the pain felt like proof she was alive. Her heart thundered as she darted between hedges, praying no one would see her.
At the gate, she spotted a sleek black car idling—one of the estate's service vehicles. The driver had stepped aside to smoke, his attention elsewhere. Isabella slid into the backseat, breathless.
"Drive," she whispered when the startled man turned to gape at her. "Please. Anywhere but here."
Something in her eyes must have convinced him. With a hurried nod, he flicked away his cigarette, slid into the driver's seat, and started the engine.
The moment the gates of the Romano estate swung open, Isabella looked back. Through the iron bars she saw Alessandro emerging from the villa, already searching for her with narrowed eyes. His fury carried even at a distance. She knew then that he would not let this humiliation go unpunished.
But for the first time in her life, Isabella did not care.
The car sped down the winding road, leaving behind roses, chandeliers, and the life she was supposed to live. The dress clung to her legs awkwardly, and tears blurred her vision, but she pressed her forehead against the glass and let the wind whip her face.
She was free. Terrified. Alone. But free.
Somewhere out there, away from gilded prisons and family obligations, a different life waited for her. She only needed to be brave enough to claim it.
And as Lake Como vanished behind her, Isabella vowed she would never go back.