His Merciless Marriage Bargain

“You need to have a look at what’s inside.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Will it take long? We’re supposed to be getting married soon.”

He carried the box to her bed and placed it on the white coverlet. “I want you to see this before we do. I think it’s important...for you. For us.”

It was in that moment, when he sounded so distant and grave, that she realized how much she loved him, and how much she wanted to be his wife, and how very much she wanted a happy future with him.

She realized in that moment that she could lose everything, and didn’t want to lose everything. Gio didn’t love her, but he was good to her, and kind. Fearless and strong.

Deep down she hoped—believed—she could get him to love her one day. That one day they would both be happy, together.

“Why do this now?” she whispered. “You must have a reason.”

“I do.”

“It can’t be good. From your expression, it’s not good.”

“I just need you to know what I know. And then we will marry, and we will raise Michael together, and all will be well.”

But he didn’t believe it, she thought. And that was what terrified her.

“Please,” Gio said, tapping the box.

Rachel crossed the room and sat down on the bed. As she lifted the box, Gio moved away, going to stand at the windows. She glanced at his rigid back, and then opened the box. The lid was hinged and when lifted, she saw the interior was filled with envelopes and papers.

Rachel carefully lifted the paperwork out and scanned the envelopes and printed emails, shivering as she recognized her sister Juliet’s handwriting. The letters and cards and emails were all from Juliet to Antonio.

She took the top envelope. The date on the postmark was December 31. She looked behind that one. The postmark was December 25. The envelope behind that one was postmarked December 18.

The letters went all the way back to May 19, the day Antonio died.

Pulse racing, insides churning, Rachel reached for the letter at the very bottom, the one postmarked May 19, and opened the letter and began to read.

My dearest Antonio,

How dare you leave me? How dare you go? I need you so much. I don’t know how to do this without you. I love you too much. I have always loved you too much. We both know it.

It frightens me that I love you more than life itself. And now you’re gone without even a last goodbye and it’s not fair. You’ve never been fair. You swept me off my feet and made me believe in love and miracles. You seemed like a miracle.

You allowed me to dream and hope and believe, and now you tell me that you’re sick, and dying, and you should have told me first. You should have told me before I gave you my heart and soul.

Rachel’s hands were shaking so hard she couldn’t see the next line and she paused, glancing blindly up. “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

“You will,” Gio said.

Gulping a breath, Rachel returned to the letter.

I don’t know how to raise this baby without you. I di

dn’t want to be a mother. I wanted to be your wife, your woman, your lover. And now I’ve a child but not you.

You have broken my heart.

You have broken me.