Chapter 1

Serenella's POV

In bed, he would grip my waist tightly and murmur, "Principessa." In public, he was the cold-blooded Don, Cosimo, leaving me with nothing but a freezing, "Piccola."

He had bought me three years ago, yet he never laid a finger on me. But half a year ago, when Caterina returned to the city, he suddenly changed. In the dead of night, he would tear my dresses and claim me with a wild intensity, even promising me a grand wedding in seven days.

On a stormy day, clutching my ultrasound report, I rushed to his private club to give him a surprise.

My hand had just touched the doorknob when Cosimo’s icy warning drifted through the crack:

"Marcellino, remember your place as a body double. Do not touch what is mine—especially Serenella."

My blood ran cold. I peered through the gap in the door—

Cosimo sat on the sofa, his expression a mask of indifference. And standing by the pool table was a man with a face completely identical to his.

——

Corvina City, a private club owned by the Torregrossa family.

I clutched the pregnancy report in my palm, its edges softened by rain and sweat.

I was pregnant.

Three years ago, my father sold me to Cosimo. For three full years, he never laid a finger on me—until six months ago, when Caterina returned to Corvina City, and he suddenly changed.

He began pushing my bedroom door open in the dead of night, tearing my clothes, and pressing me into the mattress, leaving absolutely no room for resistance. Yet, whenever I was so overwhelmed with passion that I could barely breathe, he would gently take my earlobe between his lips and softly call me "Principessa" over and over again, even promising me a grand wedding in seven days.

I rushed all the way here in the driving rain, just wanting him to be the first to hear the good news.

But the moment my fingertips brushed the cold brass handle of the walnut door, a sentence drifted out, nailing my feet to the floor.

"Marcellino, don't forget the rules."

It was devoid of any warmth—it was Cosimo’s voice.

"You are my double, but you don't get to touch a single thing that belongs to me." He paused, his voice steeped in unquestionable dominance. "Especially Serenella."

My breath caught in my throat. Marcellino?

I looked through the ajar door. Cosimo sat dead center on the leather sofa, carelessly swirling the liquor in his glass. Leaning against the pool table was another man—wearing a face identical to his.

Marcellino. Cosimo’s double.

For the past six months, the man who held me tight in the dark, who murmured "Principessa," who promised me a wedding... who was he?

I thought that since the last member of the rival Duranti family had fallen, Cosimo no longer needed a body double. I thought that at our wedding in seven days, the double could go back to being himself, and Cosimo would no longer have to lock me in the villa out of fear that I’d be targeted by his enemies.

"Relax, Cosimo." The man called Marcellino swirled his drink, a careless smirk playing on his lips, though violent, indiscernible emotions surged in the depths of his eyes. "I haven't crossed the line. Besides, even if I did sleep with her, would you care? You've kept her locked in that mansion for three years and haven't touched a hair on her head."

For three years, Cosimo had only ever called me "Piccola" in that icy tone of his. I had actually believed that "Principessa" was a tender affection he only revealed in bed.

Cosimo’s face instantly darkened.

"She's a piece of trash a gambling addict used to pay off his debts, thrown at me just so he could keep his arm. I’d feel dirty even touching a cheap commodity like her." He paused for a second. "I really don't care if you want to play with her."

"Alright, sleep with her if you want," a sharp yet elegant female voice cut into their banter. "Just don't knock her up."

Caterina. She was leaning lazily against Cosimo’s side. Her face, which looked seventy percent like mine but carried an innate arrogance, was full of smug satisfaction.

"It was my idea flavor to Cosimo," she chuckled, covering her lips. "As soon as I got back to Corvina City, I noticed that little gutter rat was getting restless. I told him to send Marcellino to the villa to play house with her, just to shut her whining mouth—and guess what? The stupid girl actually believes the almighty Don has fallen in love with her."

My blood froze, inch by inch.

"What about the wedding in seven days?" Marcellino's tone was teasing. "Just a few days ago, she was excitedly babbling to me about trying on wedding dresses, desperately looking forward to being a bride. Cosimo, how do you plan to end this little show?"

Cosimo raised his glass, his tone as flat as if he were discussing a trivial shipping manifest.

"It’s just a joke. There will be no title, and there definitely won't be a wedding."

Caterina clapped her hands in excitement, a venomous glint in her eyes.

"I have a brilliant idea—on the day of the wedding, the moment she stands at the altar and says 'I do', we reveal the truth. I'd love to see her face shatter when she realizes she’s been screwing the body double for the last six months."

The two of them exchanged a laugh. Marcellino followed suit, pulling a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Wait," Caterina suddenly arched an eyebrow, dragging out her words with mock concern. "What if the bitch accidentally gets pregnant? That kind of cheap trash loves to use the bastard in her belly to blackmail people and refuse to leave..."

Hidden in my pocket, my nails dug so hard into my palms that they broke the skin.

Cosimo didn't even blink. His voice fell like a guillotine.

"The Torregrossa family will not tolerate a bastard."

With that, his cold, hard eyes locked onto his double.

"Am I understood, Marcellino?"

Marcellino lowered his head, falling silent. From my angle, I could see his clenched jaw—that momentary tension nearly broke through his usual facade of apathy. He stared at the floor for five whole seconds before looking back up, slapping that heartless smile back onto his face.

"Of course."

The hallway was dim. I stood there like a corpse drained of its soul.

In my hand, the edges of the ultrasound report were already crushed to mush.

The child I was carrying didn't belong to the Don.

And all of this was nothing more than a cruel prank designed by Caterina. I was merely a cheap toy Cosimo used to amuse her.