Chapter 3
Chapter Three
ARIA
The first week after Papa's funeral, I didn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. The burns on his face. The cuts from the shrapnel. And then, like my brain wanted to torture me, I'd see Kai. His hands on my skin. His mouth on mine. The way he'd looked at me like I was something precious.
I'd been with him while Papa died.
The guilt was eating me alive. Mama had been dead only a week when I'd snuck out to that club. A week. I'd barely processed losing her to cancer, and then I'd been so desperate for one night of freedom that I'd gotten Papa killed.
Because that's what had happened. He'd gone to meet Don Salvatore because I'd asked him to find another way. Because I couldn't just accept my fate like a good daughter.
And someone had blown him apart for it.
Uncle Vincent was always around now.
He'd moved into Papa's study the day after the funeral. Started taking meetings, making calls, signing papers. At first, I'd been grateful—someone needed to handle things while I was falling apart.
But then I started noticing things.
The way he'd smile when he thought I wasn't looking. Not grief. Satisfaction. Like he'd been waiting for this moment his whole life.
The way he watched me. Not like an uncle checking on his niece. Like someone assessing property.
How he'd touch my shoulder, my back, his hand lingering just a second too long to be appropriate.
Papa had never trusted Vincent. Never let him near the real power. And now Papa was dead, and Vincent was sitting in his chair like he'd always belonged there.
One week after the funeral, Vincent summoned me to the study.
He was behind Papa's desk when I walked in. Not just sitting there temporarily—he'd rearranged things. Put his own books on the shelves. Hung a different painting. Like he was erasing Papa completely.
The sight made something hot and furious flash through my grief.
"Aria. Close the door and sit down."
I did, my hands clenched in my lap.
"We need to discuss your future." He leaned back in Papa's chair—his chair now—looking comfortable. At home. "You're eighteen years old, unmarried, with no experience running an organization. The other families won't respect you. They'll see you as weak. An easy target."
"So you're in charge now."
"Someone has to be." He smiled, and it didn't reach his eyes. "But that's not what we're here to discuss. We're here to discuss your wedding."
My stomach dropped. "There's no wedding. Papa was going to call it off."
"Was he?" Vincent tilted his head. "That's interesting. Because I've been going through your father's papers, his phone records, his calendar. And there's no record of any call to Don Salvatore. No meeting scheduled to discuss alternatives. Nothing."
"He promised me—"
"He told you what you wanted to hear." Vincent's voice was gentle. Patient. Like he was explaining something to a child. "Your father was grieving your mother. He was soft, emotional. He would have said anything to stop you from crying."
"That's not true—"
"Isn't it?" He stood, moving around the desk. "Think about it, Aria. Your father was a practical man. Did you really believe he'd throw away decades of alliance building because his eighteen-year-old daughter had a tantrum about her arranged marriage?"
The word tantrum made my face burn.
"It wasn't a tantrum. I just didn't want to marry a man who—"
"What you want is irrelevant." He cut me off, voice hardening. "Your father made his choices. Choices that got him killed. And now you're going to make better ones."
I flinched.
"The wedding is happening. The arrangement stands. In fact, it's more important now than ever."
"No." The word came out stronger than I felt. "I won't do it. You can't make me."
Vincent's expression didn't change. He just looked at me for a long moment, then walked to the window.
"You're right. I can't force you to marry Don Salvatore." He paused. "But I wonder—have you thought about what refusing will mean?"
"I don't care about the alliance—"
"I'm not talking about the alliance." He turned back to face me.
"I'm talking about the people in this house.
Maria, who's worked here for twenty years.
Carlos at the gate who has three children.
Rosa in the kitchen whose daughter just started college.
All forty-seven people who work for the Romano family. "
My throat tightened.
"Don Salvatore is a practical man. If you refuse to honor the agreement your father made, he'll see it as an insult.
A broken promise. And broken promises have consequences in our world.
" Vincent moved closer. "The Accardi family won't just withdraw their protection.
They'll see us as enemies. Liabilities. And they'll move to eliminate that liability. "
"That's—they wouldn't—"
"They would. They have." His voice was calm.
Matter-of-fact. "Every person who works for this family becomes a target.
Every guard, every maid, every driver. Their spouses.
Their children." He let that sink in. "Maria's grandson is six years old.
Lives in the guest house with his mother. Such a sweet boy."
Ice flooded my veins.
"And it won't just be the Accardis. The other families will see our weakness.
The Morettis have wanted our territory for years.
The Vitales will smell blood in the water.
Without the Accardi alliance, we're defenseless.
" He sat on the edge of the desk, looking down at me.
"They'll come for everyone. And they won't be quick about it. They'll make examples. Send messages."
"You're lying." But my voice shook.
"Am I?" He pulled out his phone, scrolled through it, then showed me the screen. Photos. Carlos with his three daughters. Rosa's daughter in her college uniform. Maria's grandson playing in the garden.
"These people trust the Romano family to protect them. Your father promised them safety in exchange for their loyalty. Are you going to tell them that promise means nothing? That your feelings matter more than their lives?"
I couldn't breathe.
"And then there's your parents' legacy." Vincent pocketed his phone.
"Everything your father built. Everything your mother loved about this family.
The charitable foundations your mother started before she got sick—the children's hospital wing bearing her name, the scholarships for immigrant families.
All of it will disappear when the vultures pick apart what's left of the Romano empire. "
"Papa wouldn't want—"
"Your father wouldn't want his only daughter to be so selfish that she'd let everyone who depends on this family die.
" His voice turned cold. "He died trying to protect you.
Trying to find a way to give you what you wanted.
And look where that got him. Blown apart because someone saw weakness.
Saw a don putting his daughter's happiness above family loyalty. "
The words were like a knife between my ribs.
"So here's what's going to happen, Aria.
" Vincent stood. "You're going to marry Don Salvatore.
You're going to do it with a smile on your face and gratitude in your heart.
Because the alternative is watching everyone in this house die.
Watching your parents' legacy burn. And knowing it's all your fault. "
"I can't—" My voice broke. "Please, Uncle Vincent. There has to be another way—"
"There is no other way!" His patience snapped. "This is the way. This has always been the way. You marry Salvatore, you secure the peace, you keep everyone alive. Or you refuse, and you condemn forty-seven innocent people to death because you're too much of a spoiled brat to do your duty."
Tears burned down my face.
"When?" The word came out barely above a whisper.
"Three months. The original timeline stands." His voice smoothed back to reasonable. Calm. "You'll move to the Accardi estate in two weeks. Don Salvatore wants you there to prepare."
"What if I run?" I hated how small my voice sounded. "What if I just leave?"
"Then everyone dies." He said it so simply.
"I'll make sure you know about each one.
Maria first, probably. Then Carlos and his family.
I'll send you photos so you can see exactly what your choices cost." He moved to the door.
"But you won't run. Because despite everything, you're Antonio's daughter. And you understand what duty means."
He opened the door, then paused.
"Oh, and Aria? I'm assigning guards to watch you. For your own protection, of course. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you before the wedding." His smile was poison. "After all, so many people are counting on you to survive."
The door closed behind him.
I sat there, frozen, while the weight of it crushed me.
Forty-seven people. Forty-seven lives that depended on me marrying a monster.
Maria's grandson. Carlos's daughters. Rosa's daughter in college.
All dead if I refused.
Papa's legacy. Mama's charities. Everything they'd built. Gone.
And it would be my fault. Just like Papa's death was my fault.
I'd asked for freedom. For choice. For one night to feel alive.
And now I was trapped more completely than I'd ever been before.
The next two weeks, I was a prisoner.
Guards outside my bedroom door. Guards following me everywhere. When I tried to leave once—just to walk in Mama's garden—they shadowed my every step.
When I tried to actually leave the estate, they physically stopped me.
"I'm sorry, Miss Aria. Mr. Vincent's orders. You're not to leave the grounds."
I'd stormed to Vincent's study, furious.
"You're keeping me prisoner."
He didn't even look up from his paperwork. "I'm keeping you alive. There's a difference."
"I can't even leave my own home—"