Chapter 1 - THE BRIDE WHO HEARD EVERYTHING
“Lucky.”
My father's word followed me all the way down the marble staircase.
Lucky to marry Elio Viera.
Lucky to become the wife of a powerful man.
Lucky that my future had been decided before I could ruin it with dreams of my own.
I tightened my grip on Vittorio Moretti's arm.
At the bottom of the stairs, two hundred guests waited beneath white roses and crystal chandeliers.
Some were politicians.
Some were businessmen.
Most were criminals wearing expensive suits.
And at the end of the aisle stood the man who had just told his cousin he didn't want me.
Elio Viera.
Thirty-seven years old.
Tall.
Dark-haired.
Cold enough to make an entire room fall silent without raising his voice.
He wore a black tuxedo, his hands clasped behind his back.
When he saw me, his expression didn't change.
Not even slightly.
I wondered whether he could see that I had been crying.
I wondered whether he cared.
Then I remembered his words.
I do not want her. I never did.
My father leaned closer.
“Smile, Ginevra.”
I did.
Because that was what women in my family had always done when they were being sacrificed.
The ceremony lasted twenty-three minutes.
I counted.
I counted the candles.
The flowers.
The number of times Elio looked at the officiant instead of me.
When the vows came, his voice was steady.
“I, Elio Viera, take you, Ginevra Moretti, to be my wife.”
He spoke as though he were signing a contract.
When it was my turn, my throat tightened.
“I, Ginevra Moretti, take you, Elio Viera…”
I paused.
Elio's eyes finally met mine.
For the first time that day, I saw something other than indifference.
A question.
Perhaps he wondered whether I would refuse.
Perhaps he hoped I would.
I finished the vow.
And the room applauded.
At the reception, Elio stood beside me while guests congratulated us.
His hand rested against the small of my back.
To anyone watching, we looked like a beautiful couple.
A powerful husband.
A young bride.
A perfect alliance.
But I could feel the distance between us.
It was colder than the marble beneath my feet.
Dario approached during dinner.
Elio's cousin wore a crooked smile.
“Beautiful bride.”
I said nothing.
He leaned closer.
“Enjoying married life?”
I looked at him.
“It has been approximately two hours.”
Dario laughed.
“Sharp tongue.”
His gaze moved over my dress.
“Let's hope Elio appreciates that.”
Before I could answer, Elio appeared beside us.
“Dario.”
One word.
Dario straightened.
“Cousin.”
Elio's expression hardened.
“Find another table.”
Dario's smile faded.
Then he walked away.
I turned toward Elio.
“Thank you.”
He looked at me.
“For what?”
“Sending him away.”
His jaw tightened.
“Dario forgets his manners.”
I almost laughed.
Manners.
As though that were the problem.
At midnight, the guests began leaving.
My father kissed my cheek.
“Make us proud.”
I stared at him.
He didn't notice.
Or perhaps he did and simply didn't care.
Elio escorted me upstairs.
The East Wing was quiet.
He opened a set of double doors.
Inside was a luxurious suite.
A sitting room.
A bedroom.
A dressing room.
A balcony overlooking the gardens.
Everything was beautiful.
Everything was unfamiliar.
“These are your rooms,” Elio said.
I stepped inside.
“Mine?”
“Yes.”
I turned toward him.
“And yours?”
“The West Wing.”
I stared.
He continued.
“You'll have privacy.”
I laughed softly.
“Privacy.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Is there a problem?”
I looked at him.
Then remembered the study.
The conversation.
The way he'd discussed me like an acquisition.
“No,” I said.
“Good.”
He turned toward the door.
Then I spoke.
“Elio.”
He stopped.
“Yes?”
I took a breath.
“I heard you.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
“In the study.”
Silence.
I continued.
“Before the ceremony.”
His jaw tightened.
“I heard you tell Bruno you didn't want me.”
Elio went still.
I swallowed.
“I heard Dario call me breeding stock.”
His face hardened.
“And I heard you say I should produce an heir within a year.”
For the first time, Elio Viera looked genuinely uncomfortable.
I almost enjoyed it.
Almost.
“I want you to understand something,” I said.
My voice trembled.
But I didn't stop.
“I didn't choose this marriage either.”
Elio stared.
“And if you think I'm going to spend the rest of my life being grateful for a beautiful prison, you're mistaken.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then said quietly:
“I see.”
I laughed bitterly.
“No, Elio.”
I stepped closer.
“You don't.”
He didn't answer.
I walked into the bedroom.
Closed the door.
And locked it.
On the other side, I heard him remain still for several seconds.
Then his footsteps retreated.
I sank onto the bed.
Still wearing my wedding dress.
Still wearing his ring.
And for the first time in my life, I made a promise to myself.
May you like
I would not disappear inside this marriage.
Even if I had to fight the most powerful man in Chicago to remain myself.
