Marco

The gravity of my decision to be with Marco resonated with every "yes" echoing in my mind. Packing up my things, I prepared to leave the hotel for his family's home, a mere 30 minutes away yet worlds apart from the life I'd always known. The weight of this choice pressed heavily on me as I moved through the motions.

In the lobby, Olivia's presence was a comforting sight. Her smile was genuine, and her hug, warm. "I am so proud of you," she whispered, her words bolstering my resolve.

My response was tinged with apprehension. "I don't know if you'll feel the same when the plane lands and Dad sees I'm not there," I said, acknowledging the impending fallout.

"War or no war, you will always be my sister," she reassured me, her embrace tightening before she let go to catch her Uber to the airport.

Watching her car disappear into the distance, a mix of emotions churned within me. My decision not only impacted me but also my family, especially Olivia. As the reality of what lay ahead settled in, my stomach knotted with anxiety and uncertainty.

Then I turned to find Marco, leaning casually against his car, his gaze fixed on me. In his eyes, I found reassurance, and the fear that had been building inside me began to ebb away. His smile, gentle and understanding, offered a semblance of peace amidst the storm of my thoughts.

As he took my bag and placed it in the trunk of his car, a sense of finality washed over me. This was it; I was stepping into a new life, one filled with unknowns and risks, but also with love and possibility. I got into the passenger seat, trying to envision this new chapter, attempting to set aside the threats and dangers that loomed over us.

With Marco beside me, there was a sense of courage and determination to face whatever challenges awaited. This journey was just beginning, and though the road ahead was uncertain, it was ours to navigate together. As the car pulled away, leaving my past life behind, I felt a glimmer of hope for the future we were about to create.

Pulling up to my family's grand Arizona home, I saw Bella's face light up with a mixture of awe and curiosity. It was a reassuring sign that we were on the right path. The staff were quick to assist with her bags, and I took her hand, leading her inside to meet my mother.

"Bella," my mother greeted her with an embrace that was both warm and welcoming. "It's about time," she said to me, her hug conveying a mix of relief and approval. Her words echoed my own feelings about the turn our lives had taken.

She informed us that my father was in the city on business and would be joining us for dinner. "Go show Bella to your room. Make yourself at home," she added with a gentle smile.

Guiding Bella through the house, I shared snippets of memories and stories associated with various rooms and artifacts. This house, though not as lavish as our Mexican residence, held a special place in my heart. It was here that I spent most of my formative years, a mix of good and challenging times.

Reaching my room, Bella looked around, taking it all in. "It seems like you had an amazing childhood," she commented.

"I wouldn't call it amazing, but it wasn't all bad," I replied with a smile, stealing a kiss from her.

"I need to go help my father," I said after a moment. "Take a shower, relax. I'll be back soon." She sat on the bed, a look of uncertainty in her eyes, still adjusting to this new environment.

Before leaving, I took her chin gently in my hand and said, "I love you." It was important for her to know that my feelings remained unchanged, despite the new surroundings and the challenges we were facing.

Kissing her once more, I left the room, feeling a mixture of emotions. There was a sense of contentment that Bella was here with me, in my world, but also an undercurrent of concern for how she would adapt to our life and the reactions of my family, especially my father. The upcoming dinner would be a significant moment for us, a test of sorts, and I hoped that we would come out of it stronger and more united than ever.

Arriving at my father's workshop, I was immediately enveloped in the familiar environment of our family business. The workshop was busy with the activity of reboxing the newly imported military-grade weapons. This deal, one of my father's last as the head of our family, was significant. It represented the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another.

As I stood by his side, watching the meticulous process, he finally spoke up. "Your mother called. It seems Bella chose you as well," he said, his voice betraying a mix of emotions.

"She did," I confirmed, feeling a sense of pride and responsibility in her choice.

He looked at me, his gaze thoughtful. "In a few weeks, I retire, and all this will be yours. I won't intervene unless you ask, but remember, Bella isn't like your mother."

"I know she's not mom," I replied, understanding the depth of his words.

"Good," he nodded. "Then you know she could be more beneficial in the business than just being at home. Don't make her feel suffocated with the idea of being a normal housewife." He clapped me on the back, a gesture both of support and a farewell as he moved on to oversee other aspects of our operation.

His advice lingered in my mind as I watched him go. He was right. Bella wasn't just someone to be protected and kept at home; she was a formidable individual in her own right. Her intelligence, courage, and resourcefulness could be incredible assets to our family's enterprise. It was important for me to remember that our partnership could extend beyond our personal relationship into the realms of our family business. As I contemplated our future together, I knew that recognizing and respecting Bella's strengths and giving her the space to utilize them would be key to both our personal happiness and professional success.

Bella

Sitting on the bed, I was captivated by the expansive view of the city from Marco's room. The house, perched atop a mountain, offered a breathtaking vista that momentarily took my mind off the complexities of my situation. But the brief escape was interrupted by my ringing phone. Seeing "Nonno" on the screen, a wave of anxiety washed over me. I hesitated, then answered.

"Nonno," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

His voice, when he finally spoke, lacked its usual commanding tone. "I got a call from the Rivera family. They want to discuss the betrayal they feel from our family," he informed me, sounding weary.

"Nonno, you don't sound good. Is everything okay?" I asked, concern evident in my voice.

"I'm fine, Principessa," he reassured me, though I wasn't convinced. "But I'm not in a condition to represent the family. Your father will step in, but he won't be taking over the family."

"But Uncle..." I began, but he cut me off.

"No, it was always you. Now it's your job to make the family accept your choices. If you abandon us, there will be consequences." His words were final, leaving no room for argument.

As he hung up, the reality of his words sank in. The weight of my choices, the impact on my family, and now the responsibility he had laid at my feet felt overwhelming. The walls of the room seemed to close in on me, the city view outside no longer offering solace but a reminder of the world I was now entangled in, a world that demanded I balance love and duty, personal desires and familial obligations.

I sat there, alone with my thoughts, feeling the burden of my grandfather's expectations. The path I had chosen with Marco wasn't just about us; it was about leading my family into an uncertain future, one that I had to navigate carefully to avoid dire consequences. The responsibility was immense, and in that moment, I felt both the strength and the weight of my lineage.

As I finished unpacking, the knock at the door came as a welcome distraction from my spiraling thoughts. "Come in," I called, turning towards the door.

Marco's mom entered, her presence instantly soothing. "Are you all settled?" she asked with a genuine warmth that felt comforting.

"I think so," I replied, offering a smile that belied the turmoil inside me.

"I was about to start cooking dinner. Would you like to help?" she offered, and I eagerly accepted, grateful for the opportunity to do something normal and grounding.

Stepping into the kitchen, I was greeted by the sight of Marco's cousins and aunts, the room buzzing with activity and chatter. I took a seat beside his mom, who handed me some fresh vegetables to chop.

"Did you do a lot of cooking in Italy?" she inquired, her tone casual yet interested.

"Actually, I had to sneak into the kitchen to learn. My grandfather didn't think it was a place for me," I shared, my mind drifting back to those stealthy kitchen escapades.

As I chopped the vegetables, I listened to the women's conversations and laughter, feeling a sense of belonging that I hadn't expected. Growing up in a family where traditional roles were strictly enforced, I had often felt constrained. Here, however, there was a sense of camaraderie and warmth that enveloped me.

In this lively kitchen, I found an unexpected comfort. The women, busy with their cooking and banter, represented a different kind of strength and resilience. I realized that, despite the stark differences in our backgrounds, there was a universal language among these women, one of nurturing and care, of solidarity and strength. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I truly belonged, not just as a member of a powerful family, but as a person with my own identity and story. The evening promised to be more than just a dinner; it was a moment of connection and acceptance, a new chapter in a life that was rapidly changing.