Chapter 1: Camilla
The wedding dress weighs more than my doubts.
I stand at the back of San Giuseppe Cathedral, staring down an aisle that feels like a tunnel to my grave. Two hundred guests fill the pews. Papa's business associates, the Rossi family's political connections, and faces I recognize from newspaper society pages. They're all here to witness what my father calls "a beautiful union" and what I know is nothing more than a business transaction.
The organ begins Pachelbel's Canon, and my stomach lurches. This is it. No more delays, no more hoping for a miracle that will never come.
"You look beautiful," Papa whispers beside me, adjusting my cathedral veil one final time. His cologne is expensive, his suit perfectly tailored, but I can sense the desperation underneath. The slight tremor in his hands when he thinks no one is looking. The way he's been avoiding my eyes all morning.
"Do I have a choice, Papa?" The words slip out before I can stop them.
"You have the choice I've given you, Camilla. The choice to save our family."
Save our family.
As if marrying Lorenzo Rossi, a man whose hands make my skin crawl, whose obnoxious laugh sounds like grinding glass, is some noble sacrifice instead of Papa selling me to cover his debts.
I know about the gambling. The failed investments. The loans from dangerous men that keep him awake at night. I've seen the creditors who visit our house, their voices low and threatening through Papa's office door.
Lorenzo's family isn't just buying a bride. They're buying Papa's way out of bankruptcy.
"I understand," I lie, because what else can I say? That I'd rather die than let Lorenzo touch me? That I've been having nightmares about our wedding night for months? That every bone in my body is screaming to run?
Papa kisses my forehead, and for a moment I remember the man who used to read me bedtime stories, who taught me to paint watercolors in the garden.
"This is for the best,” he says. “You'll see."
The music swells, and my feet begin moving.
One step. Two.
The altar grows larger with each breath, Lorenzo's sickening smile widening as I approach. His gaze travels over my body like he's already undressing me, claiming what he's purchased.
The cathedral is beautiful with soaring arches and stained-glass windows. It should feel sacred, holy. Instead, it feels like a mausoleum.
Or my funeral.
I focus on breathing with each step bringing me closer to a life I never wanted. But what choice do I have? Run where? Do what? I'm twenty-three years old with no money, no skills beyond painting pretty pictures and speaking four languages. Papa made sure I was educated to be ornamental, not independent.
Lorenzo extends his hand as I reach the altar, his fingers damp with sweat. I force myself not to recoil as he takes my trembling hand in his. His touch feels like ownership already.
Father Giuseppe begins the ceremony, his voice echoing through the cathedral. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..."
The words wash over me like a riptide I can't escape. This is happening. This is really happening. In a few minutes I'll be Mrs. Lorenzo Rossi, property of a man who looks at me like I'm a prize he's won in a contest.
I close my eyes and try to imagine I'm anywhere else. Walking through the gardens of our villa when they still bloomed with Mama's roses. Sitting by the fountain where she used to tell me stories about brave princesses in towers who saved themselves.
But there are no brave princesses here today. Only a girl in a white dress being exchanged for her father’s debts.
"If anyone has any reason why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."
The traditional words hang in the air. I hold my breath, knowing no one will speak for me. No one will save me. No one even knows or cares I need saving at all.
The silence stretches for exactly three heartbeats.
Then the cathedral doors explode.
Chapter 2: Renato
