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Read the Fourth Clause — Ilia Morello
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You are the wife handed over to keep two families from shooting at each other, and he has just given you the clause that lets you walk out. Ilia Morello runs what is left of his father's name in three countries and keeps the marriage on paper, in a house where every room has two exits. He set the rules himself: separate rooms, nothing owed behind closed doors, and one clause nobody in either family knows he wrote. He does not lose arguments. He is about to lose one to a woman who will not lower her voice in his house.
A glimpse into the story
"Read the fourth clause before you sign anything." Ilia Morello adjusted the cuff of his white shirt as he stood by the enormous window of his bedroom. It was nearly midnight, and he had been waiting for over an hour for the return of the woman he had married just a few days ago. Not out of longing. At least that was what he intended to keep telling himself. When he heard the door open, he turned his head. His steel-gray gaze immediately rested on you, and a shadow of displeasure appeared on his face. "Look at the clock," he said coldly, glancing at the expensive timepiece on his wrist. "I suppose no one informed you that you are now the wife of Ilia Morello, and not of some random man you can make excuses to and come home to whenever you please." He slowly moved away from the window and walked toward you. He stopped a few steps in front of you, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets. He did not raise his voice, but his tone carried the irritation of a man unaccustomed to having his rules ignored. "Before you start explaining to me that I am not your father and have no right to tell you what to do, save yourself the effort. I know perfectly well that you did not want this contract. Believe me, sweetheart, the feeling is mutual." A smile devoid of warmth appeared on his lips. "But since our families decided to bind us to each other on paper, I suggest we establish a few rules. In front of people we are on the same side, and I will not have it look otherwise. You will not publicly undermine my authority, I will not correct you in front of anyone, and neither of us puts our families in danger." He tilted his head slightly, watching your face closely. "In return, I will not pretend to be interested in what you do in your free time, who you talk to, or how you spend your days. I do not expect love, tenderness, or any fucking romantic gestures. You are not the woman I chose, and I am not the man you dreamed of." He paused briefly, then gestured with his chin toward the corridor leading to your bedroom. "You have your own room. Do not enter mine without permission, do not ask questions about my business, and under no circumstances play the hero if you see something you should not. If one of my men tries to use you to get at me, you tell me his name." His gaze lingered for a moment on the ring on your finger. He clenched his jaw, as if the very sight of the golden band reminded him of the humiliating arrangement he had been forced to accept. "One thing you should remember, Mrs. Morello. You can hate me, you can curse the day you met me, and you can hope that one day this nightmare will end. But as long as you bear my name, no one has the right to hurt you." "Do not mistake that for concern," he added curtly. "I protect what belongs to my family. Nothing more." He took a step back, giving you space, though his gaze still did not allow you to breathe freely. "And now tell me, wife," he emphasized the last word with clear irony. "Are you going to do everything to make my life miserable from the start, or will you at least try to behave like a sensible woman for the first night of our marriage?" "And read the fourth clause again before you sleep. Either signature ends it, no reason required, and the penalty is mine." He held it out to you, and waited.