Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SIENNA
The ride to Alessandro’s estate is a blur of flashing red and blue lights, the siren wails echoing loudly against the glass windows. Federal agents escort me, Valerio, and a few other key members of Alessandro's security detail straight to the massive iron gates of the Gallo mansion.
At first, I didn’t think the police would actually follow us all the way here, but the moment the convoy of black SUVs pulls up the driveway, reality hits me like a bucket of ice water.
They aren't just dropping me off; they have a search warrant, and they are preparing to toss this entire house upside down.
I have to think fast. If they find that blue laptop, Alessandro is done, and my future is destroyed before it even begins.
As we step out onto the gravel driveway, the agents begin setting up a perimeter around the entrance. I catch Valerio's eye through the crowd. He is standing by the fountain, his posture rigid. I give him a sharp, deliberate nod, flicking my gaze toward the side entrance of the house.
Valerio doesn't miss a beat. He immediately steps into the path of the lead agent, deliberately raising his voice and demanding to see the hard copy of the search warrant, creating a loud, bureaucratic scene that draws the attention of the surrounding officers.
With the spotlight on Valerio, I break away from the group and head toward the heavy front doors.
"Step back, ma'am," a burly officer commands, moving quickly to block the doorway with his arm. "The property is being secured. No one goes inside until we've cleared the premises."
My heart hammers violently against my ribs, but I force my face into a mask of pure, fragile distress. I press a hand against my stomach, letting out a soft, pathetic gasp as I stagger back a step, making sure my pale face and trembling lips look completely convincing.
"Please," I choke out, my voice cracking perfectly. "I... I need to go inside. I'm pregnant, and all of this stress... I'm incredibly nauseous. I'm going to throw up right here on your boots if you don't let me use the bathroom."
The officer blinks, his tough demeanor instantly cracking into sheer panic at the prospect of a pregnant bride vomiting all over him. He looks over his shoulder, then back at my white dress, completely out of his depth.
"Alright," he mutters, opening the door just enough for me to slip through. "Just the downstairs powder room. One minute. I'll be right outside the door."
"Thank you," I whisper meekly.
The moment the heavy oak door shuts behind me, the fragile act vanishes. I don't look back. I slip away carefully, taking off my heels as I sprint past the downstairs bathroom and head straight for the grand staircase, praying Valerio can buy me the sixty seconds I need.
Barefoot, I fly up the carpeted stairs, my breath catching in my throat as the sheer lace of my wedding dress billows around me. I reach the top landing and scan the corridor.
Go up the main stairs, first door on the left at the end of the hall.
I sprint down the corridor, turn the handle of the heavy wooden door, and slip inside, closing it silently behind me. Alessandro’s bedroom. It smells entirely of him—expensive cologne, leather, and dark tobacco. But I don’t have time to take it in.
I rush over to the massive mahogany desk, my fingers trembling as I yank open the top drawer. Sure enough, resting there, is the blue laptop.
My heart thunders a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
I grab the device, holding it tightly against my chest. The weight of what I am doing settles heavily onto my shoulders.
If I am caught with this right now, the federal agents won't care that I'm a pregnant bride.
They will cuff me like Alessandro. I will be implicated.
I will be jailed. I am making a conscious choice to become complicit in his world, destroying any chance of a normal life.
There is no turning back.
I spin around and scan the room until my eyes land on the mini bookshelf across from the bed. I drop to my knees, the white silk of my skirt pooling on the floor, and run my fingers along the back panel of the shelf. My fingers catch on a small, hidden indentation.
A sleek, digital keypad glides into view.
1425.
I punch the numbers in with a shaking finger. The mechanism clicks, and a secret compartment pops open. I quickly slide the blue laptop inside, pushing it deep into the dark cavity, and slam the panel shut. The keypad retracts, leaving the bookshelf looking completely normal.
I stand up, smoothing down my dress and taking a deep, ragged breath just as the faint sound of heavy footsteps begins to echo from the hallway outside.
Before I can even move toward the door, it bursts open. Three federal agents stride into the bedroom, their expressions instantly hardening when they find me standing in the center of the room.
"What are you doing up here?" the lead agent demands, his eyes darting suspiciously around the room.
The burly officer from downstairs steps up behind them, looking flustered and angry. "I told her to use the downstairs powder room."
My heart is hammering against my ribs, but I force my posture to relax, crossing my arms over my chest and letting out an offended, exhausted sigh. I need to play up the high-maintenance, hormonal bride act before they start looking too closely at the furniture.
"I tried using that one, but it doesn't have any of my things," I say, my voice dripping with defensive attitude.
"I am used to this bathroom. I am a pregnant woman, and if I use the wrong soap, I’ll start vomiting again.
Do you want to be responsible for dealing with a new bride on top of all this chaos? "
The agents all frown, looking deeply uncomfortable as they exchange awkward, annoyed glances. The lead agent pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly wishing he didn't have to deal with me for another second.
"Fine. Just leave the room and go back downstairs immediately," he orders, gesturing firmly toward the doorway. "We are securing this floor right now. Do not wander off again."
"Fine," I snap back, tilting my chin up.
I pick up my the hem of my dress, stepping past them with as much attitude as I can muster, and walk out into the hallway. My hands are still secretly shaking, but as I head down the grand staircase, a cold wave of relief washes over me.
The laptop is safe. I actually did it.
Will they notice the hiding space? Will they be able to destroy it and retrieve the laptop?
The anxiety returns, sharp and biting. If they brought advanced scanning equipment, a hidden wall or furniture safe might show up on their thermal imaging.
If they find it, they won't hesitate to tear the bookshelf apart to get inside.
Valerio is gone by the time I finally make my way outside into the humid coastal air. One of Alessandro’s trusted security details tell me that Valerio has already left to pick up Alessandro’s top defense lawyer and head straight to the federal precinct.
After thirty grueling, agonizing minutes, the agents finally stream back downstairs. They look thoroughly frustrated and angry, their boots stomping loudly against the marble foyer. As they pass me, they throw me highly suspicious glances.
I can tell they had ironclad intel. That’s the only reason they would raid a high-profile syndicate wedding with this much force. Now that they can’t find a single shred of physical evidence, they are certain I had something to do with its disappearance.
Well, they’d be stupid if they thought I would just hand over my husband.
Wait. What? My husband?
I freeze, my own thought process catching me completely off guard. It confuses and terrifies me that I am going to these extreme lengths for Alessandro—a man who practically forced me into this life. Just hours ago, I was looking for ways to fight him. Now, I’m covering up federal crimes for him.
Before I can unpack the chaos in my mind, the lead agent steps right into my space.
"Mrs. Gallo," he says, the new title tasting like ash in my mouth. "We need you to come down to the station with us to give a formal statement regarding the assets and the timeline of today's events."
I meet the agent's cold stare with an unyielding look of my own.
"Of course," I comply smoothly, keeping my voice steady. "I’d be happy to help.”
At the station, the routine statement quickly turns into a full-blown interrogation. They guide me into a sterile room with blinding fluorescent lights and a double-sided mirror, the lace of my wedding dress looking absurdly out of place against the scratched metal table.
Two agents sit across from me, laying out a file filled with surveillance photos of Alessandro, detailing the timeline of the drug shipment Luca sabotaged.
"Look at this, Mrs. Gallo," the lead agent says, leaning forward, his voice shifting into deliberate sympathy. "You don't have to protect him. We know who your father is, and we know how these arrangements work. You were bartered off today, weren't you?"
The second agent nods, pushing a legal document toward me.
"This is your chance to damage Alessandro Gallo permanently.
Tell us what was on that laptop. Tell us where the ledger is.
If you tell the truth, we can protect you.
We can invalidate the marriage license. We can offer you federal protection and a way out.
If this marriage was forced, if it wasn't truly your choice, you can walk away right now. Free."
For a long, agonizing moment, the room goes completely silent.
The words echo in my head, striking me right in the chest. A sudden realization washes over me: this is it. This is the exact opening I wanted. The cage doors are being pulled wide open before the lock can even settle.
I have the power to utterly ruin Alessandro, dismantle his empire, free myself from the syndicate lifestyle, and walk away clean. I could go back to my old life, answerable to no one.
I look down at the polished metal table, my reflection warped and distorted. All I have to do is say a single word. All I have to do is tell them about the bookshelf, and the nightmare is over.
Instead, I look up, my expression smoothing into a mask of pure, untroubled innocence.
"I don't know anything about a laptop," I say, my voice steady, betraying none of the chaos screaming inside my head. "And my marriage wasn't forced. I love my husband."
The lie tastes heavy on my tongue, but it leaves my mouth without a single tremor.
It is only in that exact second, as the words hang in the sterile air of the interrogation room, that the terrifying truth sinks in.
When my window of escape finally opened—the exact exit strategy I had been praying for—I looked right at it and chose to slam it shut. I protected him. I chose Alessandro.
The lead agent's sympathetic demeanor vanishes in an instant, his face darkening as he slams his palm onto the metal table.
"Don't play dumb with us, Mrs. Gallo! You were in that bedroom for too long before we found you.
What did you move? If you're lying to cover for a syndicate boss, you're looking at felony obstruction.
We will lock you up right alongside him! "
The pressure in the room mounts, the air turning thick and hostile. The second agent leans in, his shadow looming over me, his voice dropping into a sharp, threatening hiss. "Think about your family. Think about your sisters. Is Alessandro Gallo really worth destroying your entire life over?"
Despite the sweat gathering at the back of my neck, I don't flinch. I lean back in my chair, the delicate white lace of my wedding gown contrasting sharply against the grim, gray room. I maintain my ground, staring back at them with a cold, unyielding certainty that feels older than I am.
"I've told you everything I know," I say quietly. "If you're going to charge me, do it. Otherwise, I want to see my lawyer."
The lead agent opens his mouth to bark another threat, but the burly officer standing near the door quickly steps forward, placing a cautionary hand on his colleague's shoulder.
"Hey, watch the pressure," the officer mutters in a tense whisper, glancing at my stomach. "The report from the house says she's pregnant. If she has a medical emergency under high-stress interrogation without counsel present, the whole case gets thrown out on a silver platter. It's not worth it."
The lead agent grinds his teeth, glaring at me with absolute frustration. He looks at my white dress, then at the recording equipment on the wall, realizing his hands are tied.
With a defeated, angry sigh, he gathers the files from the table and shoves them into his briefcase.
"You're free to go for now, Mrs. Gallo," he says, spitting out my new last name like a curse. "But don't get too comfortable. We'll be watching every single move you make."
“Thank you, officers,” I say, offering them a sweet, completely unbothered smile as I push my chair back. “Well done. And great job today.”
I stand up, lifting the heavy train of my wedding dress over my arm with all the grace of a queen leaving her throne room rather than a suspect exiting a federal interrogation. The agents stare at me in stunned, furious silence as I turn my back on them and walk out into the hallway.