On our wedding night, when I saw my wife’s body down there, I trembled—and in that instant, I finally understood why her family had given me a lakeside villa, valued at nearly two million dollars, just for marrying a poor man like me…

The moon was reflected on Lake Como like a trembling silver ribbon when I entered the bridal suite.

I still couldn’t believe that this place—a villa worth nearly two million dollars, a gift from my wife’s family—was now my home.

I, an engineer without a fortune, the son of a mechanic and a retired teacher, had married Clara Vannini, the only daughter of the most powerful real estate magnate in northern Italy.

Clara was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a silk dress that barely covered her pale skin.

She smiled at me, but her eyes… they didn’t have the light of a woman in love.

They were tired, resigned eyes, as if she were preparing for something inevitable.

“You’re trembling,” I said, trying to break the silence.

“So are you,” she whispered.

I moved closer slowly.

I had dreamed of this moment for months, ever since I met her at an architecture exhibition in Milan. Continue reading…