I hate him. I hate this.
And yet...I would comply. Because there’s really no other choice. Gemma was right. Our child ties us together.
I follow my handler into the bridal suite. The furniture is white, filled with fresh Ivory flowers, and it’s elegant and cold.
There’s a full-length mirror, and I avoid looking at myself.
I’m alone for only a moment before I hear the click of heels and the creak of the door.
I look up and Bianca is walking through the door, her silver eyes calculating.
"Nervous?" she asks.
"Terrified," I answer honestly.
"Good. That means you're smart." She moves into the room with the grace of someone who owns every space she enters. "Most girls would be pretending to be brave right now. Putting on a show to try and show me they are worthy.”
"I'm too tired to pretend.” I close my eyes slightly. “And honestly, I don’t want to be worthy of this family.”
She smiles and sits in one of the white chairs, crosses her legs. She gestures to the one across from her. "Sit, Seraphina. We should talk."
I perch on the edge of the other chair, my dress rustling around me.
"Do you know why I arranged this wedding?" Bianca asks.
"Because I'm pregnant."
She laughs. It's a cold sound. "That is partially why," she says. "This wedding is about legitimacy. About making sure that child you're carrying is recognized as a Nero heir and making sure that my own son is safe. Being a Nero comes with many perks."
"I don't care about being a Nero?—"
"You should." Bianca leans forward. "That child you carry is already in danger. The Morozov family. The Marinis. A dozen other families who'd love to see the Neros fall will target you." Her eyes are sharp. "Without our protection, without our name, your baby would be a target. A liability. A weakness to exploit."
The words settle over me like ice.
"So, you see," Bianca continues, "this isn't about you. It's about that child. About making sure they have every advantage. Every protection. Every opportunity."
"By forcing their mother into a marriage she doesn't want."
"Yes." Bianca doesn't flinch.
I want to hate her. Want to rage at her. But there's something in her expression. Something almost... understanding.
"You're worried about Adrian, aren't you."
Bianca's smile is thin. "Very perceptive."
"He doesn't seem to want your help."
"No." She stands, moves to the window. "But you will see when that child is born. A mother's love knows no bounds. I'll do whatever is necessary to protect Adrian, even if it means protecting him from himself."
I swallow thickly.
"You need to understand something. It's important." She turns to face me. "I was twenty-one when I was arranged to marry Adrian's father. I didn't want to. I had dreams. Plans. A life I'd imagined. I was forced to give up all that to secure the line of a criminal syndicate."
The words sound clinical. Transactional. I don't know what she's getting at, but I'm hooked.
"But I also learned how to control that family," Bianca continues. "How to make myself indispensable. How to turn my position as wife and mother into real power. Power unlike anything I could ever imagine." Her eyes gleam. "When my husband died, I didn't step aside for Adrian. I took over. Me. The woman who was forced to marry in. I became the Don," she smirks.
