Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Chloe&Enzo
Chloe
After endless internal turmoil and anguish, the day on Valentina's invitation finally arrived.
Rain fell cold over New York.
Enzo left earlier than usual. Normally I wouldn't be awake at this hour, but last night I didn't sleep at all. He noticed I was awake. He seemed surprised.
"Did I wake you?"
I didn't deny it. Just faked a drowsy yawn.
"Where are you going so early?"
"Work." He answered while getting dressed. Before leaving, he kissed my forehead, said he had important business to handle, would be back late, told me to have Anna make something good to eat.
His eyes showed nothing when he looked at me.
If he felt even a second of guilt about what he was going to do today, I'd feel better. But I saw nothing on his face. Still, I couldn't help thinking—what if Valentina was lying? If Enzo was just going to work, he wouldn't show any particular reaction, would he?
The front door closing meant Enzo was gone. I stood in the bedroom for a long time. Looking at the empty space beside the bed always brought a sinking unease.
Today was the fifteenth. The day to go to St. Patrick's Cathedral.
I took a deep breath and went downstairs. Anna was washing vegetables in the kitchen. When she heard my footsteps, her hands paused.
"Anna." I greeted her.
"Good morning, Miss Bennett. What would you like to eat?" She asked with her back to me.
"Anna, I need to go to that church."
Anna slowly turned to look at me. She didn't seem surprised I was asking.
"I know you work for Valentina," I said calmly. "Take me there. I need to see it with my own eyes."
Anna didn't deny it. She slowly folded the towel in her hands and placed it on the counter, then walked to the entrance and took down one of my coats from the rack.
"The car's out back. I'll drive you."
With Anna's guidance, we easily avoided the two guards at the front door and got into the car they'd prepared.
The drive took nearly forty minutes. I sat in the back seat without saying a word. Anna said nothing either. Outside the window, New York looked gray and heavy. The rain had stopped, but the sun hadn't come out.
My hand stayed on my belly the whole time. Five months now. The curve was obvious, couldn't hide it even with a loose coat. The baby inside was unusually quiet today. Not kicking. Maybe he knew today wasn't the day to make a fuss.
When the car stopped at the corner near the church, Anna glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Are you sure?"
I didn't answer, but I was sure. One hundred percent sure. I needed a real answer.
I pushed open the door.
A row of black stretch limos sat outside the church. People in formal wear came and went, women in long dresses and furs, men all in dark suits. Both sides of the steps were covered in white flowers—white roses and lilies, thick and dense everywhere. White everywhere.
The church doors stood open. I walked in.
Inside, the flower scent was several times stronger than outside. White lilies and roses mixed together, sickly sweet, making me nauseous. Maybe pregnancy had turned my sense of smell into radar-level sensitivity. Maybe my stomach was using its own way to tell me—you shouldn't be here.
The cathedral interior rose high and magnificent, the vaulted ceiling so far overhead it made me dizzy.
Stained glass windows filtered the gloomy daylight outside into warm tones—gold, red, blue light spots falling on the long wooden pews.
It looked cozy and dreamlike. This was once my vision of a perfect wedding.
Both sides were filled with people. No one noticed me. I wore a dark coat, stood in the corner of the last row, completely out of place.
I could hear people up front speaking low Italian, someone praising the flower arrangements, someone discussing the wine list for the reception.
I even spotted a few Hollywood stars in the pews.
These people, in this cathedral where I couldn't afford a single floor tile, were attending my man's wedding to another woman.
My man. I was still calling him that.
Damn it.
The altar stood at the front of the church. Under the white flower arch, Enzo emerged from the side door.
He'd changed clothes. Not what he wore this morning. His white tie gleamed under the lights. He stood before the altar, back straight, expression calm as always.
One last thread of hope remained in my heart. Maybe he was just a guest. This wasn't his wedding. Maybe he'd call it off at the last second.
Then Valentina appeared.
She walked on a middle-aged man's arm, wearing a floor-length white wedding dress, lace and silk cascading in layers. Her blonde hair swept into an elaborate updo, white veil falling from crown to shoulders. Her profile perfect, proud, born to appear in a scene like this.
Enzo reached out his hand. Took Valentina's hand.
My nails dug into my palms. The pain forced me to face this scene more clearly.
I watched Enzo guide Valentina to stand beside him. He lifted his hand to adjust her veil. People around them cheered, saying how loving they looked together.
This hand that touched my belly last night feeling for kicks was now arranging another woman's veil. How absurd.
I bit the inside of my lip. The taste of rust spread through my mouth.
The priest began reading the vows. Enzo quickly said, "I do." His voice echoed under the dome. Blood rushed to my head. Tears blurred my vision. This was like the most terrible nightmare.
God, why wasn't I waking up?
I stared hard at those two figures standing side by side. Even as the pain from my chest made me barely able to stand, I still masochistically took in every detail of this wedding.
The priest handed Enzo a velvet box. I watched him open it and take out a ring—the ring I'd personally put back in his pocket.
The ring I thought was for me. Symbolizing eternal love.
An indescribable sense of absurdity drowned me.
My stomach felt like someone had punched it, pain making my whole body shake, barely able to breathe.
I'd been ridiculous enough to think it belonged to me.
Apparently, even God couldn't stand my delusion, so now He was making me watch Enzo hold Valentina's left hand and slowly slide that diamond ring onto her finger.
All the blood in my body went cold. Starting from the top of my head, down to my feet, to my fingertips, into the cracks of my bones.
I thought I'd found the happiness I'd been waiting for. But now I looked down—nothing beneath my feet.
I'd been a joke all along. I thought I'd finally found that real love I'd craved my whole life. But actually, I'd only gotten a farce and a lie.
Now it was over. I took a deep breath, decided to leave. That's when Enzo's head turned slightly.
Across more than a hundred guests' heads, across the entire length of the cathedral, his gaze found me precisely.
Enzo
I saw Chloe.
Across more than a hundred heads, I locked onto her instantly. Chloe Bennett stood in the corner of the last row, wearing a dark coat, hair loose around her shoulders, face pale as death. With my exceptional vision, I caught every detail.
One hand covered her swollen belly, her body slowly shrinking back, like she wanted to erase herself from this space.
But her eyes fixed on me, filled with unmistakable emotion—disappointment.
My heart was doing something it hadn't done in a long time. It pounded violently, irregularly, each beat bringing sharp pain. Why was Chloe here? Who brought her? How much had she seen?
She'd seen it all, of course.
The moment that realization exploded in my brain, Valentina's nails dug into my arm through my suit fabric.
The priest was reading the final blessing.
Guests applauded. Some wiped tears. Some held up phones for photos.
The whole cathedral was immersed in false warmth and solemnity, and I stood at the center of this charade, watching the woman carrying my child in the back row, her face collapsing inch by inch.
My right foot moved forward half a step. I wanted to push through the guests, get to her, pull her into my arms, and tell her nothing was what it seemed.
But Valentina still gripped my arm. She didn't turn to look at me, but her pressure sent a message. Try taking one step.
My brain completed calculations in a lightning flash.
Julian's eyes were among the guests. If I walked toward Chloe now, the wedding was off. The alliance dissolved. Julian would stand up on that broken leg. And Chloe—my Chloe, pregnant with my child—would transform from a secret I'd hidden in the shadows into everyone's target.
I pulled my right foot back.
The priest said the words. "You may kiss the bride."
Valentina rose on her toes. I numbly lowered my head. My lips pressed against hers.
After the kiss ended, guests applauded enthusiastically. Someone whistled. Valentina turned to look at me, blue eyes full of triumph.
"Don't rush off, darling. Your guests are watching."
I ignored her. My gaze swept toward the back of the church again.
Chloe wiped her tears. Started walking out.
"What did you do?" My voice was cold, kept low, ensuring only we could hear.
Valentina placed her hand back on my arm, gracefully nodding and smiling at guests on both sides. "You saw."
"What the hell do you want, Valentina?"
"I want you." Valentina turned her head to look at me and winked her right eye. "But don't misunderstand—I'm not actually in love with you."
"Then why do this? You know Chloe can't threaten your position. She's just an ordinary person."
"Of course. I'm well aware. You need me.
Need this alliance. Some stripper can't take anything from me.
" Valentina reached up to adjust my tie, the gesture so tender the guests probably thought we were madly in love.
"But you played too big, Enzo. You shouldn't have gotten her pregnant.
You can have a hundred mistresses, I don't care.
But a bastard child? No. That's my line.
I have no interest in playing stepmother. "
Valentina rose on her toes, her lips at my ear.
"Go after her. Then end this smartly. Give her money. Make her disappear, along with that thing in her belly. It's your only choice, Enzo. You know it."
I stared hard at that carefully made-up face. In that instant, murderous rage flooded my brain. I could feel my fingers trembling—how badly I wanted to wrap them around her throat, snap her neck right in front of these hundreds of guests.
She'd dared to find Chloe behind my back. Dared to use that unborn child to threaten me. She'd shattered every defense I'd built to protect Chloe.
But reason told me I absolutely couldn't break down here.
So I gave her an extremely slow, cold, cruel smile. Grabbed the wrist of her hand resting on my arm, tightened my five fingers. She gasped, that fake smile finally showing a hint of distortion.
"If you go after her again, you'll pay dearly, Valentina. I guarantee it."
I kept my voice low enough for only us to hear, then threw her hand away hard. I didn't look at her again. All I could think about was that pale, departing figure.
I turned directly. Pushed through those still-applauding guests at the fastest speed of my life, burst out the side door, and sprinted around to the church's front steps.
Then I saw a scene that sent all my blood rushing to my head.
Chloe stood at the bottom of the steps, leaning against a man's shoulder.
His arms wrapped tight around her back, one hand at her waist, the other gently patting the back of her head.
Her whole body shook violently, shoulders heaving, crying so hard she could barely stand.
And he steadied her, chin resting on top of her head, his posture so gentle I wanted to twist his head off his neck.
Liam Brooks.
That bartender from the club. The broke kid I'd followed, investigated, and almost thrown in the Hudson River. The man who worked up the courage to confess at Chloe's apartment door and got rejected.
Now he stood at my wedding entrance, holding my woman.