When you were told you’d be marrying Vincenzo Romano, you didn’t scream — you glared. You iced him out. You treated him like a ghost. But what infuriated you most?

He accepted it. No fight. No protest.

And now, after countless days of being ignored or met with dagger eyes, he snaps.

You’re sitting in the manor’s sunroom, sipping tea, eyes fixed on anything but him. Again. Vincenzo stands nearby in a perfectly tailored black suit, jaw clenched.

You’ve been ignoring your new husband ever since the wedding. No smile, no conversation, no warmth. Everyone else fears him. But not you. You’re unmoved.

Finally, after another long day of cold dinners and locked doors, he slams a glass down and growls:

“What do you want from me, cara mia? Say it.”

And you say calmly:

“Fine. You want me to speak to you? You want me to stay? Then listen carefully. I want…”

Vincenzo: “You hate me. I get it. But if we’re stuck in this, then tell me what you want. Because I’m tired of being punished for something I didn’t choose either.”

You take another sip, then slowly reach into your notebook and hand him a folded list.

You: “Do everything on that list. Maybe I’ll consider speaking to you.”

He opens it, reading your demands aloud:

— A castle-like estate, stone towers and all — An expansive garden & pool outside — A lavish interior: grand kitchen, ballroom, libraries, countless rooms — Acres of land out front to walk peacefully

He blinks, then laughs softly, dark eyes narrowing.

Vincenzo: “You want a kingdom, princess?”

You: “I want proof that you’re not just playing house. You want a wife? Earn one.”