Chapter ten
The first notes of The Wedding March echo through the patio, and my breath catches.
This is it.
I take a single, trembling step forward. The stone beneath my heels feels uneven, but it's not the ground that's making me unsteady—it's everything.
Babbo and the others had pushed the furniture aside, hastily arranging rows of mismatched chairs to create an aisle. It wasn't the lavish wedding that had been planned. No cathedral, no grand floral arrangements, no hundreds of guests watching with admiration.
But they had tried.
With what little time they had, they tried to make this feel special for me.
I clutch the bouquet in both hands, my fingers curling so tightly around the stems that the thorns prick at my palms. Red roses. The same ones that had been sitting on the dining room table just hours ago, repurposed as my wedding flowers.
Babbo steps up beside me, his warm, calloused hand sliding over my arm as he links it with his. A silent reassurance. A silent plea.
With lead in my limbs and a stomach in knots, I walk with him down the makeshift aisle.
Eyes are on me.
Some filled with warmth. Others with pride.
A few watching with the cold calculation that came with this life—the kind that never lets you forget that everything has a purpose.
As we approach the front, I spot an intimidating man sitting in a wheelchair. His face is unreadable, and when our eyes briefly meet, he gives me a short nod of acknowledgment before looking away.
Vincenzo's father.
We were supposed to meet tomorrow at the wedding rehearsal. We were supposed to exchange pleasantries, maybe shake hands—not meet like this.
A stranger at my wedding.
I swallow the lump in my throat and let my gaze drift to him.
Vincenzo.
Standing tall at the altar, dressed in an all-black suit that fits him like a second skin. His dark eyes glint under the warm glow of the patio lights, a sharp contrast to the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
My stomach churns.
Suddenly, the air feels too thick.
My skin feels too hot.
A slow, suffocating panic creeps in, squeezing around my ribs until I can barely breathe. I thought I could do this—I was wrong.
Babbo kisses my cheek softly before guiding my hand into Vincenzo's.
His grip is firm, fingers slightly calloused as they wrap around mine.
I feel tiny beneath his gaze.
Dizziness overtakes me, and my whole body trembles. My chest tightens like a vice, my pulse pounding in my ears. The air refuses to reach my lungs, no matter how hard I gasp for it.
The walls are closing in.
My fingers go limp, and the roses slip from my grasp, falling in a crumpled heap at my feet.
I stumble backward.
Then, before I even realize what I'm doing—I run.
The patio blurs as I flee, my veil whipping behind me. My heels skid against the stone, my dress tangling around my legs as I bolt toward the pond.
My throat burns.
The nausea rises so violently that I'm sure I'm about to throw up.
Collapsing onto my knees, I clutch the hem of my dress like it's the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.
Babbo's voice calls out behind me, but I can't respond.
A strangled sob escapes me, and my entire body wracks with it. Shaking. Sobbing. My fingers dig into the fabric of my dress as I curl into myself, pressing my forehead to the ground like I could disappear into it.
Then, suddenly—a presence.
Someone crouches in front of me.
A moment of silence, and then a firm grip on my chin.
I'm forced to look up.
Through tear-blurred vision, Vincenzo's face comes into focus.
For the briefest second, his cold mask drops—just a flicker of something unreadable in his dark gaze. But then, as quickly as it appeared, it's gone.
"Alexandria," he murmurs, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Stop playing games. Get up."
I shake my head furiously. "I—I can't do this," I whisper, choking on my own sobs. "I don't want to do this."
His lips twitch in irritation. Then, before I can react, he hauls me up and throws me over his shoulder.
A startled scream tears from my throat.
I pound my fists against his back, my legs kicking wildly. "Put me down, you bastard!"
He doesn't even flinch.
His grip is ironclad, and as he strides back toward the altar, I can hear the murmurs of the guests, the collective gasp at my outburst.
"She's fine now," Vincenzo announces sharply, his voice dripping with impatience. "She just needed a moment. Let's get this over with. We have a plane to catch."
I stiffen.
A plane?
I barely have time to process the words before he sets me back on my feet, forcing my hand into his.
I barely hear the priest's speech.
The words blur together, drowned out by the deafening sound of my own pounding heartbeat.
I stand there, staring blankly at the ground, my entire body numb.
Then Vincenzo squeezes my hand, snapping me back into the moment.
I suck in a shuddering breath, barely holding myself together as I take his ring and shove it onto his finger, uncaring if I hurt him.
"Alexandria Rayne Castillo," the priest's voice drones. "Do you pledge to love, honor, and obey Vincenzo Lombardo until death do you part?"
I lift my gaze to Vincenzo, my expression burning with hatred.
"I do," I spit, venom dripping from every syllable, tears streaking down my face.
Vincenzo's lips curl into the faintest smirk.
Without warning, he dips his head and claims my lips.
It's not a kiss.
It's a conquest.
His mouth devours mine, his grip tightening around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
I hate him.
I hate this.
But still—I kiss him back.
I pour all my frustration, my anger, my resentment into the kiss, matching his intensity. If this was going to be my fate, then I would make damn sure he knew how much I despised him for it.
The moment we pull apart, I'm gasping for air, and the crowd erupts into applause.
Vincenzo leans in, voice barely a whisper against my ear.
"You have an hour to say your goodbyes. Your maid is packing your things."
Then he walks away.
I turn, immediately falling into Babbo's arms.
My body shakes violently as he holds me, his strong arms tightening around me like he could somehow shield me from this.
Mamma strokes my back, whispering soft reassurances in a voice that no longer calms me.
Because nothing can.
Tears blur my vision as I move through my family, hugging each one goodbye.
When I reach Ameena, she's already crying. Gio stands beside her, trying to comfort her, but she looks devastated.
Without a word, I open my arms.
She throws herself into my embrace, sobbing into my shoulder.
"I'm gonna miss your dumb ass," she mumbles, voice thick with emotion. "I don't care what that dickhead says, I'll visit you whenever I can."
I clutch her tighter.
"I'm scared," I whisper.
She pulls away just enough to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"You're strong, Alexa," she murmurs. "And I'll always be here. No matter what."
I nod, swallowing back the sob that threatens to escape.
I take one last look at my family—at the life I'm leaving behind.
Then I turn and walk toward my husband.