CHAPTER 8
Ariana's POV
The continuous tapping of my foot echoed off the walls, each tick driving my chest tighter. Time was slipping away; this was too risky.
A sound at the door made me jump. Mom stepped inside, and my focus vanished when I saw what she held — a gun.
“Mom, y-you... where did you get it?” My voice shook; my pulse thundered in my ears. This is happening.
“Don’t worry about that, Ariana,” she said, steady as iron.
“You’ll go down and wait for me and your father.
Before he comes downstairs I’ll stall him somehow.
” I nodded. “Then I’ll come down and take you away from here.
Just be ready. Don’t worry about Nicola — I’ll deal with him.
” She clenched her jaw as I gripped my bouquet of lilies so tight my knuckles hurt.
She turned to leave and I pulled her into an embrace. “Mom, what if it doesn’t work?” I whispered.
She held me, then cupped my cheek when she let go.
“Promise me that if none of this works — no matter what happens — you get out of here. Promise me, cara.” I closed my eyes and squeezed her hand.
I didn’t want to imagine the worst, but she was right.
If it failed, I had to leave — for the baby’s sake, if nothing else.
“Okay,” she said. “But you have to promise me the same thing.”
“I promise, tesoro. I promise.”
“I promise, Mom, that I’ll leave regardless,” I said.
She stepped back and left. The moment the door shut, my chest grew heavy and my stomach pitched; nausea rose up like a tide. I looked down at my flat stomach and clenched my teeth. If I died today, so would this innocent child.
God forgive me.
Alessandro — if only it were you at the altar waiting for me.
At last it was time. I walked down the church steps like I was walking into hell, head bowed while a church attendant guided me. Each step tightened the knot in my stomach. Mom should be distracting D’Angelo now; I had to be ready to run the second she signalled.
I reached the bottom of the stairs and my heart dropped; I couldn’t breathe.
Oh my God.
I froze. D’Angelo stood there with a smile I couldn’t read. He should have been upstairs — restrained or at least delayed — not standing at the altar as if nothing had happened. Panic flared when I realized Mom was nowhere to be seen. I scanned the room; she wasn’t there. Someone had stopped her.
D’Angelo offered his arm. “Shall we, dearie?” he whispered.
I gasped and looked over his shoulder. Nicola stood at the front, waiting. If Mom hadn’t stalled D’Angelo, if she hadn’t made it, then there was nothing left to do. I was going to marry Nicola today.
“D-dad, where is Mom?” I asked, my voice breaking.
“Don’t let your useless mother stall you at your own wedding, dearie — she’ll arrive shortly,” he said smoothly. “Now come on. Don’t make this complicated for us or for yourself.” His words carried a threat beneath the velvet.
I searched the crowd again, desperate, but the church was swarmed with his men. Nicola’s presence froze me. My arms trembled when D’Angelo took my hand and we began down the aisle. Moments like this should have been beautiful; for me they were unbearable. Tears blurred my vision.
“You really thought you could get away with this, huh?” D’Angelo murmured in my ear. I looked up at him, my heart sinking — what had he done to Mom?
At the end of the aisle, D’Angelo handed my arm to Nicola. He took my hand and kissed it. I was frantic; this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Mom was meant to arrive before I reached Nicola; she was supposed to stop this. But she wasn’t here.
This was not part of the plan, mom was meant to get here before I reached Nicola however, since she wasn't here, I was going to get married to him today no matter what..
“Ty vyglyadish' tak krasivo, Ariana,” he whispered. “YA lyublyu tebya.” He nodded and blinked at me like he was in love. I couldn’t look at him the way he looked at me — every time I tried, everything he’d done came rushing back. It made it impossible to love him like I had loved Alessandro.
The vicar began to speak, and I prayed with everything I had that something would happen to stop this wedding. With every passing second my stomach turned; I felt so nauseous I thought I might throw up on Nicola.
“Do you, Nicola Luciano, take Ariana Valentina Vallezi as your lawful wedded wife?”
“I do,” Nicola replied, smiling as he looked at me.
“And do you, Ariana Valentina Vallezi, take Nicola Luciano as your lawful wedded husband?”
My heart hammered. I glanced over my shoulder one last time, searching for Mom—any sign of her—but she wasn’t there. A single tear slid down my cheek. Why had I ever thought escape was possible?
“I—I... do,” I whimpered, eyes squeezed shut as goosebumps crawled over my skin. My sobs echoed in the church, but everyone ignored them. They ignored me.
I didn’t even realize how loud I’d begun to cry; my thoughts were only on Mom and what D’Angelo might’ve done to her once he discovered her plan. He must’ve hurt her.
“Does anyone here object to this marriage?” the priest asked.
“I object!” a voice cried. Every head turned.
Relief ripped through me — pure, overwhelming relief — because it was the one voice I’d been desperate to hear.
“M-mom!” I gasped as she limped into the hall, the gun I’d seen earlier clutched in her hand.
She looked beaten; seeing her alive and standing at my wedding felt like waking from a nightmare to a strange mercy.
I threw my bouquet of lilies and started to run toward her, but Nicola grabbed my wrist and locked his fingers around it.
I turned to him, horrified, as he grew visibly agitated.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, detka,” he growled. “Listen to me — you don’t want your mother dead.”
“Valentina, what are you playing at?” D’Angelo bellowed. “Come on, honey — not at your daughter’s wedding.”
Mom glared at D’Angelo as she limped down the aisle. Nicola’s men raised their guns at her; my heart hammered at the sight of so many barrels trained on her. D’Angelo gave a curt gesture to stop them, but Mom kept her aim on Nicola, who still wouldn’t let me go.
“Valentina, please put the gun down,” Nicola said — and for the first time in a long while I heard softness in his voice. Mom looked like someone who’d escaped an asylum and walked into the wrong room, but she was real and furious.
“Let go of her!” she hissed; the sound startled me — I’d never heard her like that.
“Not until you put the gun down!” Nicola snapped.
“Valentina, I’m telling you once — put the gun down, or God help me, I will fucking kill you today!” D’Angelo thundered.
Mom turned her glare to him. The air crackled. If this escalated, it would be my fault. If she died today, it would be on me.
“You like playing these games, don’t you, D’Angelo?” Mom spat. “You’ll only get the chance to kill me when you escape from me.” Her words landed hard; his eyes widened. Even I was stunned — Mom had never stood up to him like this.
“You wouldn’t do that, Valentina — so I’d like to see you try,” he sneered.
“This is not a challenge, D’Angelo. I’m desperate. Help me — I’m trying to save our daughter from something that could ruin her life forever. Give her back to me and I’ll put the gun down. Please.”
“Ariana’s life will not be ruined, Valentina — you have to see this from my point of view. Please, darling, just put the gun down. You wouldn’t shoot your husband over this.” D’Angelo tried to reason, but his words wouldn’t sway her. She was desperate — and right. This was our only chance.
“It doesn’t matter if you are my husband or not,” Mom said, voice trembling but fierce.
“What comes first in my heart is my daughter, whom you neglect. I love her more than you do — so let her go.” She shook as she aimed at him.
“If you do not let her go, I will shoot your brains out. .. just like how you threaten me."
The tapping of my foot echoed off the walls like a countdown; every click wired me tighter.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw D’Angelo losing patience by the second.
His fists balled, his jaw clenched. He wanted to give the order to shoot, but he knew he couldn’t — not with his own wife pointing a gun at him in front of everyone. That would be humiliation.
“And then what? You both run away?” he sneered. “You know, Valentina, you cannot run from me. I will find you wherever you go.”
Mom looked back at me, then returned her glare to D’Angelo.
She kept the gun steady, fighting for each breath, pain written across her face.
I stood in the middle of the aisle, eyes darting between them, praying like hell that nothing would explode.
Nicola tightened his grip on my wrist so I couldn’t move toward her.
“The only thing that’s stopping me is you,” Mom said, voice breaking, “and I hate to do this, D’Angelo, but you made things complicated the day you built this empire that’s done nothing but ruin us.
” Tears fell down her cheeks and it cut me open.
She was right — he’d dragged us into this life and then acted surprised at the cost. She’d carried the fallout alone while he chased his power.
“And I’m sorry, Valentina,” D’Angelo muttered, but his apology was thin. “Now put the gun down. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Vito D’Angelo,” Mom spat, fury replacing fear, “the only thing I can do right now is put a bullet in your head, because change means nothing to you.” Her voice trembled but she was steady. “Go to hell, D’Angelo. Go to hell.”
“You wouldn’t—” D’Angelo shook his head, disbelief flaring on his face. “Valentina, no. Don’t do this. I’ll send my men away.” He barked orders and, one by one, his men lowered their guns and backed off.
I thought for a moment she might listen. She didn’t. She raised the gun back up and aimed straight at him. D’Angelo trembled.
That’s when everything happened so fast. “I’m sorry... ti amo,” Mom whispered — and at that exact second a gunshot cracked through the air. I shut my eyes, arms instinctively covering my ears.
When I opened them again, D’Angelo was on the floor, a widening pool of blood spreading under him. My body froze. Was he dead?
Mom stood at the center of the church, weeping. I stared at her, then back at D’Angelo. He lay badly hurt; Nicola and his men moved to him instantly.
This was the opening I needed.
“Mom, let’s go,” I whispered, scooping her up. She pushed herself up and grabbed my hand. We ran for the exit. I risked one last glance back and, for the first time in years, felt sure D’Angelo wouldn’t make it out alive.
I didn’t feel remorse. Not for him. He’d built our misery. Seeing him fall felt like taking back what had been stolen from us — our lives. I ripped at my dress to make running easier and kept moving, heart pounding.
I hadn’t thought about what would happen if Nicola noticed we’d bolted. The thought made me move faster until I almost fell.
Then another shot rang out behind us; birds exploded into the sky and shook the air. Mom pushed me to run farther. “Ariana! Go hide. I’ll handle it here. Keep running until it’s safe,” she urged.
I started to run, then turned — and my escape vanished. Nicola was suddenly in front of me. I kicked and screamed, clawing at him, but he handled me like I weighed nothing and threw me to the ground.
I looked up at his face and froze. He stood a few steps off, pistol in hand, face carved with rage I knew too well.
“After all I’ve done for you — treated you like a queen — you decide to betray me like this?
What the fuck are you playing at, Ariana?
!” he snarled as he hauled me to my feet, his nails biting into my clothes.
“Nicola, let her go!” Mom yelled. He sneered and rolled his eyes.
“Or what? You gonna shoot me dead like you shot D’Angelo?” he spat.
Mom charged, but before she could reach us, his men seized her and held her back—stopping her cold.
“Nicola, I’m sorry!” I cried as he gripped my wrists so tightly it felt like my bones would snap.
“I can’t believe you would do this to me, Ariana!” he shouted, shaking me violently. “I thought you fucking loved me! We were supposed to get married today! What the fuck?”
I covered my face and ears, sobbing. “Nicola, how can I marry you if I don’t love you?” My voice cracked. “I’ve never loved you. It was always Alessandro. It’s always been him.”
The second the words left my mouth, Nicola’s eyes flared with fury. He released my wrists only to seize my jaw in his hand, his grip crushing.
“You’re out of your fucking mind!” he roared. “Why? Why can’t you just accept me?”
“Because Alessandro is still out there!” I cried, pushing him off with everything I had. The move caught him off guard, and he stumbled back a few steps before glaring at me — the kind of glare that could kill.
His voice dropped, low and final. “If I can’t have you, then no one else can.”
He raised his gun, aiming it straight at me.
“No—no! Nicola, no!” Mom’s voice tore through the air.
“Valentina,” he said darkly, “I have to do this. Your daughter asked for this — and now she’s going to get it. You’ll see exactly what I can do in one second.”
My eyes darted between them. My throat closed. I couldn’t breathe. I could barely speak.
“Nicola, no, plea—”
The gunshot split the air.
Mom screamed.
An excruciating, burning pain ripped through my stomach.
My world stopped the instant the bullet hit.
Everything blurred. My mind went silent.
I pressed my trembling hands against my abdomen and felt hot blood pouring through my fingers.
The pain was unbearable, deep and searing.
My hands—my whole body—were covered in red.
My chest felt heavy, every breath shorter than the last. The sounds around me faded. I didn’t even realize I’d collapsed until I saw the ceiling—white, distant, spinning. My body was numb, the pain burning only in one place.
“Ariana!” Mom’s voice reached me, muffled and broken. I blinked and saw her through hazy vision as she dropped to her knees beside me. Her arms were around me before I could even speak.
“Oh my God! Ariana, stay awake, cara! Stay with me! Keep your eyes open!”
“M...mom...” I whimpered, “it h-hurts...” My body shook as I tried to reach for her hand. “Mom...”
Her sobs were the last sound I heard before everything went dark. My eyes fluttered once, twice—then the darkness swallowed me whole.