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"Turn," she commands, and like a little rabbit, I obey without thinking.

The mirror reflects a stranger back at me.

A woman draped in darkness and gold, her skin luminous against the midnight fabric. My hair falls in glossy waves over my shoulders, and my eyes seem brighter, more defiant. The neckline plunges dangerously low, revealing more skin than I've ever shown in public.

I smooth a hand over my stomach, feeling the cool beading beneath my palm. I hate how much I love the way I look right now. Hate how right this feels—this dress made for a queen, not a hotel maid.

"Earlier, you mentioned Luca's mother," I say, breaking the silence. "Elena, right? You said she was a bride worth looking up to."

Teresa's hands pause on my shoulder. Her reflection in the mirror goes still, her face suddenly grave.

"Elena Ravelli was a force of nature," she says finally. "Beautiful. Fierce. The only person who could make Vito laugh."

"What happened to her?"

Teresa's eyes meet mine in the mirror. "She died under... suspicious circumstances. When Luca was fifteen."

My breath catches. "Suspicious how?"

"A hit meant for Vito. Or so they say." Teresa's voice drops to barely a whisper. "The family never healed. Especially Luca. He was there when it happened."

The weight of her words settles over me like a shroud. I think of Luca's cold eyes, his calculated movements. The way he looks at everyone like they're already dead.

Teresa turns me to face her, her fingers digging into my shoulders.

"Bianca, that boy has demons in his blood," she says, each word precise and heavy. That's the first time she has used my name, and Ifeelit. "You may be the only one who can anchor him."

"Me?" I shake my head. "I'm nothing to him. Just a witness he decided to keep instead of kill."

"If that's what you need to believe."

Teresa's lips curve into a smile as she leans in close, so close I see just how deep the secrets of this family lay within the depths of her eyes.

"But know this dear, hechoseyou. One of the most powerful men in the world, and he chose you. And you alone."

I take a breath with the weight of that statement.

Wrapped in silk and secrets, I stand here ready for a wedding I never asked for… to a man who already owns every piece of me.

Chapter Six

Luca

Istandinthecathedral hall where my mother's casket once rested, watching shadows dance across black marble floors like ghosts that refuse to leave.

The same gilded candelabras line the aisle, their flames flickering like dying breaths. Incense coils in the rafters, heavy and ancient like the walls surrounding me.

Everything here smells of smoke, blood, and sanctified lies.

Fifteen years ago, I stood in this very spot and watched them lower her into the ground—Elena Ravelli, the only woman my father ever bled for. A brutal, bloody murder of the woman who gave me life, taking her away from me too soon.

Today, I stand at the altar waiting to crown a queen of my own.

Not for love.

For legacy.

For the throne my mother promised me in whispered bedtime stories before the bullets found her.