It was done.
I was now, in every legal sense—and, more importantly, before God—married to Miranda Williams. Standing in the receiving line, flanked by my brothers and my new bride, I forced a polite smile as I shook hands with a parade of guests whose names I barely recognized. Most were more important to Cesar than to me, and judging by the endless line, my brother had made sure no connection was left uninvited. Each perfunctory greeting blurred together, my mind wandering even as I nodded and murmured thanks.
As I shook hands with strangers, the weight of the ceremony pressed in on me, coupled with uncertainty and the faint ache of betrayal with each congratulatory handshake.
“Savy!” A shout rang out above the crowd, unmistakably Oliver Thorpe’s. Ignoring custom and courtesy, he cut straight through the line, determined to reach Miranda. The moment he reached her, he swept her into a tight hug.
Miranda laughed, her relief plain as she returned his embrace. “Oliver,” she sighed, a genuine smile brightening her features as she let him go. “I can’t believe you’re here.” She turned to me and asked, “Did you invite him for me?” Her eyes searched mine, gratitude and curiosity shining through.
Before I could answer, Cesar—my older brother and, by default, the orchestrator of this farce—leaned in with his trademark warmth. “Happy wedding day, sister,” he said, then pressed a quick, affectionate kiss to her temple before she smiled up at him, clearly at ease with his familiar gesture when someone cleared their throat.
“If you don’t mind, we’d like to congratulate the happy couple—unless that’s too much to ask,” Leviticus Barbari declared, his voice cutting through the din and turning heads with his sneering undertone.
He strode forward with his daughter Katherine at his side, every step calculated. Leviticus’s eyes glinted with mischief as he fixed his gaze on me. “Massimo, I have to admit, I thought this whole thing was a farce. Yet here you are, standing next to your bride.” His lips curled into a smirk—the satisfaction of someone who’d been waiting to stir the pot.
Tension crackled instantly. Cesar stepped in, jaw clenched, eyes narrowing in warning. He positioned himself in front of Miranda, shoulders squared in a protective stance. My heart raced—I could feel the heat rising in my chest, fists instinctively curling at my sides as Katherine’s gaze flickered between our faces, searching for what, I didn’t care.
“Barbari,” Cesar snapped, voice raised, almost talking over Leviticus in his urgency. “You weren’t invited. Leave. Now.”
The command hung in the air, daring Leviticus to push further.
But Leviticus didn’t flinch. He met Cesar’s challenge with a slow, deliberate grin—his eyes flicking to the crowd for effect. “And what reason would I have to go, Vitale?” he said, almost relishing the mounting tension. Leaning in, he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper only just loud enough for the inner circle to hear. “I think the bride deserves to know her husband is about to become a father.” Beneath his words, his satisfaction radiated—this was more than gossip; it was revenge, a calculated move to disrupt the fragile peace.
Miranda’s gasp shattered the hush, her hand flying to her mouth as color drained from her cheeks. Cesar’s glare sharpened, every muscle rigid. I felt my stomach drop, a cold sweat prickling beneath my collar. Katherine shifted, eyes wide—caught between embarrassment and horror. Around us, guests murmured, their faces a mix of disbelief and eager curiosity, waiting to see how this scandal would unfold as security pushed their way through the crowd.
“Get him out of my house!” Cesar roared furiously as Barbari threw his head back laughing, defiant even as security dragged him from the premises. His daughter, silent and composed, followed him with measured steps, leaving the tension behind. But the damage was done. The instant they were gone, I looked around, searching for Miranda—only to realize she had slipped away, and Oliver Thorpe was no longer in sight either.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Massimo
Grabbing the nearest chair, I hurled it with all my strength. The wood splintered, pieces skittering across the marble floor with a deafening crash that echoed off the walls. My roar of anger seemed to shake the very chandelier above, its crystals trembling in the aftermath. The guests had long since fled, their judgmental voices still ringing in my ears, and I caught fleeting glimpses of their recoiling faces through the windows—eyes wide, mouths agape as they clung to each other, trading whispers that bled into the night.
The tension hung heavy, and I barely registered Cesar’s voice—sharp and commanding—as he strode through the chaos, his fists clenched and jaw set as he barked orders to our brothers, men loyal to the Vitale family, and the remaining staff. His fury burned hotter than mine, a storm that threatened to swallow the room whole, but all I could feel was the pounding of my own heart and the cold judgment radiating from every corner.
“Find her now!” Cesar barked, his voice rough as gravel, slicing through the tension like a blade.
I staggered backward, breath hitching with every step, the pressure in my chest growing unbearable. The walls of the room seemed to press inward, closing the space until every breath felt like a struggle. Leviticus’s revelation replayed relentlessly in my mind, reverberating through the silence and amplifying the sense of impending collapse. I watched, helpless, as the cracks in our family’s carefully built defenses widened with each passingmoment, threatening to destroy all the control we struggled to hold.
There was no undoing this.
The fallout would touch everyone, whether they deserved it or not, and a chilling realization settled in—I had been so consumed with my own agenda, with proving my worth to Cesar and the others, that I had utterly neglected the very person I was supposed to be protecting.
Miranda.
My wife.
And now, because of my blindness, she was vulnerable.
“Cesar,” I muttered, words rasping out through the storm of fury twisting inside me. “Barbari. He set this up. This was all him.” My accusation was a desperate attempt to deflect, to push the blame outward, away from the gnawing shame that was already starting to take root.
It was easier to hate Barbari than to confront the colossal failure that was my own doing.
Cesar’s eyes blazed as he strode over and clamped a heavy hand on my shoulder. “He’ll answer for it, brother. No one comes into my house and threatens what’s mine. Believe me, Barbari’s time is coming.”
His words, meant to be a reassurance, only amplified my inner turmoil. He saw this as an attack on the family, a personal affront. But what about Miranda? Was her safety truly his primary concern, or was it simply about the sanctity of the family? And how much of my own desperation to please Cesar fueled this frantic search, blinding me to the deeper truth of my responsibility?
Luca came skidding down the stairs, voice clipped. “House is clear. No sign of her.”
