Chapter 31 LILY
LILY
"What do you mean engagement party?!"
The words explode out of me before I can stop them, loud and sharp in the quiet living room.
We're gathered in a loose circle, the four of us standing like corners of a broken square.
Luan's uncle just left, the door closing behind him, but the air still feels heavy with his presence.
With the weight of whatever happened in that office while I was hiding in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with shaking hands.
Luan stands near the window, backlit by afternoon light that makes him look like a dark silhouette. Artan is by the fireplace, one hand resting on the mantel, his posture deceptively relaxed. Erion leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching me with pale blue eyes.
They all look at me. Wait for me to finish my outburst. To calm down.
But I'm not calm. I'm the opposite of calm.
Luan speaks first, his voice careful and measured. "My uncle expects us to host an engagement party. Soon. Within the week."
"But this was supposed to be simple." My voice is rising despite my best efforts to control it. I can hear the pitch climbing, can feel the hysteria building in my chest. "A video call. Maybe one meeting. Now you want a party? With guests? With the entire family watching?"
Luan takes a step forward, his hands lifting slightly like he's trying to soothe a spooked animal. "It's important. For appearances. To solidify my position with the council. To show them that this relationship is real, that I'm serious about building a stable future."
I interrupt him before he can continue with whatever justification he's building. "How far do you want to take this fake engagement? All the way to a wedding? When does it stop being fake and start being real?"
The question hangs in the air between us, heavy and unavoidable.
Because I don't know anymore. I genuinely don't know where the charade starts and where it ends. Where the performance stops and reality begins.
At first, the engagement was fake. I agreed to help Luan satisfy some old-fashioned family requirement. Agreed to pretend for a few weeks while he recovered his sight. Simple. Transactional. An exchange of services that would benefit us both.
But that was before everything changed.
That was before the situation evolved into something else. Something more complicated and messy and utterly impossible to categorize.
Before there were feelings involved.
At least for me.
I have feelings. Real ones that hit me in the chest and steal my breath and make me ache when I'm not near them. For all three of them.
But do they have feelings for me?
Or is this still just strategy for them? Just a role they're playing with practiced efficiency? Just another move in whatever complicated game they're running?
If they have feelings, real feelings like mine, why don't they mind keeping up the charade? Why are they okay with this being fake when it stopped feeling fake to me weeks ago?
Am I the only one who thought this stopped being pretend?
The thought makes my chest tighten painfully.
Luan hesitates. I can see him searching for words, his jaw working as he tries to find the right explanation. The right angle. "Lily, it's complicated."
"Then uncomplicate it."
My voice comes out sharper and demanding in a way I rarely am.
"I need to know what's really going on. This isn't a normal family request. I'm not stupid. What is this really about? What am I actually involved in here?"
Artan steps forward, moving away from the fireplace with smooth grace. His voice is calm when he speaks, soothing and rational. "Lily, you need to understand. In our world, appearances matter. Driton represents the council. They have expectations about who leads, about what stability looks like."
"What world?" I turn to look at him directly, frustration bubbling over. "What council? Stop talking around it and just tell me what's happening."
Erion speaks first. No cushioning or softening. "We're Albanian mafia."
Silence.
Complete. Absolute. Suffocating.
The word hangs in the air like smoke, curling through the space between us, filling my lungs with something acrid and impossible to ignore.
Mafia.
Luan and Artan both turn on Erion immediately, their voices overlapping in sharp rebuke. "Shut up." "Not now." "Mos fol."
Erion just shrugs, completely unbothered by their anger. "She deserves to know what she's getting into."
My thoughts are racing, tumbling over each other too fast to catch and examine properly.
Mafia.
Everything clicks into place with sickening clarity.
The secrecy that surrounds every aspect of their lives.
The money that seems endless and unquestioned.
The way they move through the world like they own it, like rules don't apply to them.
The violence I've sensed simmering beneath Erion's skin, the control Luan exercises like a reflex, the way Artan watches everything with the vigilance of a man expecting attack.
Of course. Of course they're mafia.
How did I not see it before?
Erion looks at me, his pale blue eyes cold and assessing in a way that makes my skin prickle. "Does this change things for you? Because it doesn't change things for me. You know who we are. What we do for money shouldn’t be relevant."
"It's very relevant." My voice sounds stronger than I feel, clearer than the chaos in my head. "What do you do? What does mafia mean? Drugs? Guns? Human trafficking?"
Luan's face darkens immediately, offense written clear across his features. His entire body goes rigid. "Absolutely not. Never. Kurre."
The vehemence in his voice is genuine.
Artan intervenes, physically stepping between us like he's trying to prevent an explosion. "Lily. Right now, under Luan's leadership, we deal mostly with contraband. High-end goods."
"Contraband?"
The word feels strange in my mouth, foreign and heavy.
Luan speaks, his voice calmer now but still tense. "We're responsible for a significant share of designer brands currently in circulation. Luxury goods. High-end fashion."
My mind struggles to reconcile this with what I thought mafia meant. "You're tricking people into buying fake things?"
Erion scoffs, pushing off the wall. "It's not fake.
Not the way you're thinking. They're made in the same factories as the legitimate products.
Same materials, same workers, same quality.
Some products leave through the front door with official stamps and taxes paid.
Others leave through the back door without the paperwork. That's the only difference."
I'm skeptical. The numbers don't add up in my head. "That's enough to support the kind of wealth you have? The cars, the apartments, the private jets?"
Artan nods slowly, his expression serious. "At the scale we operate? Worldwide distribution networks across multiple continents? Yes. We also have legitimate businesses. Nightclubs. Hotels. Casinos."
Casinos.
The word hits me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs.
Casinos. Where people gamble away their savings. Where people develop addictions they can't break. Where families get destroyed by debts that spiral out of control.
Like my brother.
My thoughts spiral immediately, racing down paths I don't want to follow.
Are they connected? Did Henry gamble at one of their casinos?
Did they profit from his addiction? From the debts that forced me to give up my home?
Are they somehow responsible for the financial disaster that's been consuming my life?
I can't process all of this right now.
The room feels too small suddenly. The walls too close. The air too thin.
Erion's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts, sarcastic and bitter. "So now that you know who we are, what we really do, we are not worthy of your care. We're just criminals. Monsters. Not worth your time."
The accusation stings, sharp and immediate.
"That's not fair." My voice cracks slightly on the words. "You can't drop something like this on me and then expect me to react like the truth doesn't bother me. Like finding out the men I have feelings for are part of organized crime is something I should just accept with a smile."
My chest feels tight, constricted like someone's wrapped bands of steel around my ribs. My breathing comes uneven and shallow.
"I need time to think. I need space to process this."
I turn toward the door, desperate suddenly to get out of this room. To escape the weight of their stares and the truth hanging heavy in the air.
"Lily, wait."
Luan's voice stops me mid-step. Not loud. Not commanding. Just my name, spoken with enough weight that my body responds before my mind can argue.
I turn around slowly, every muscle tense.
He's moved closer, standing just a few feet away now. Close enough that I can see the tension in his jaw, the concern in his green eyes that are finally, fully clear.
"I'll go ahead with the engagement party," I say. The words come out steady despite everything, controlled in a way I don't actually feel. "I understand the risk involved now. I don't want anything bad to happen to you. To any of you."
I pause. Force myself to meet each of their eyes in turn. Luan first, then Artan, then Erion.
"But after that… I don't know yet."
The statement hangs in the air, unfinished and raw.
Silence follows my words. Heavy. Oppressive. Thick enough to choke on.
Nobody speaks. Nobody moves to stop me.
I turn and walk out of the room, my footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor.
The hallway stretches ahead of me, long and empty.
I don't know where I'm going. Don't know what I'm going to do.
I only know that I agreed to stay for now. To play the role a little longer. Not because I've forgiven the lies or accepted the truth.
But because walking away right now, when the danger is real and the stakes are higher than I understood, could cost more than I'm ready to lose.
And that terrifies me more than anything else.