Just a cold, unflinching calculation.
My chest tightened.
How could a man make such an impulsive, terrifyingly absolute decision?
For what purpose?
Renzo had warned me that the marriage was meant to temporarily pacify the war between the Spanish and Italian mafias—the original bride was Spanish, her family seated here in the hall, eyes sharp and calculating, ready to defend their honor.
And yet... he had abandoned her entirely.
Right there.
In front of everyone.
Choosing instead to marry me, a girl he barely knew, in the presence of her entire family.
What kind of man does something so reckless, so impossibly audacious?
Was it truly because of those fourteen hours we had shared as children?
Could such a fleeting, fragile memory justify humiliating entire families, shattering a bride’s heart, discarding the woman who had stood at this very altar moments ago as if she were nothing?
The audacity, the sheer weight of his power, left me reeling.
My mind spiraled, grasping for reason, for logic—anything to make sense of this act—and yet, no matter how I tried, I could not understand it.
It was madness.
The priest’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God and these witnesses...”
The priest’s hands rose slightly, fingers brushing the ornate Bible before him. “...to join Elena Vasquez and Vincenzo Orsini in the sacred bonds of Holy Matrimony.”
He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the hall, eyes lingering on the two factions seated like opposing armies.
“This union is not to be entered into lightly, but reverently, and in accordance with the will of God and the laws of man.”
He adjusted the folds of his vestments and cleared his throat. “If any here can show just cause why these two should not be lawfully joined, let them speak now...”
His eyes shifted briefly to Vincenzo, then to me, steady and expectant. “...or forever hold their peace.”
A heavy silence followed, a pregnant pause so dense I could almost feel it pressing against my skull.
The room seemed to inhale as one, waiting.
No voice dared rise.
Not a whisper.
Not a protest.
Not a single sign of resistance.
The tension hung in the air like a living thing, and my stomach tightened in response.
The priest turned his attention fully to me, his gaze softening slightly while his voice remained commanding.
