Chapter 7
LORETTA
The following day arrived like a sentence being carried out by an unseen judge.
I stood at the altar in a heavy silk wedding gown that whispered against my skin every time I breathed.
It wasn’t a dress meant for comfort; it was meant to be seen, even if I couldn’t see it myself.
The church swallowed sound.
No organ music. No soft murmur of guests. No gentle rustle of celebration.
Just hollow silence stretching through high ceilings, broken only by the faintest creak of old wood as if the building itself was settling into discomfort.
I knew the priest was there because his voice kept drifting through the space.
Ramiro had brought me here.
Now I stood at the altar, waiting for the moment Rafael and I would exchange rings.
He was already beside me. I knew it from the faint scent of cedarwood and leather and the quiet awareness of his presence.
While others relied on sight, I relied on sound, scent, and proximity.
This wasn’t a wedding.
It was a contract being sanctified beneath a church roof.
A transaction dressed in ceremony.
The priest spoke a series of solemn, ritualistic words, welcoming the witnesses gathered before God and affirming the sacred covenant of marriage.
He spoke of commitment, fidelity, and the lifelong bond that would unite two people as husband and wife.
Then came the question I had been dreading.
“Loretta Orsini, do you take Rafael Pérez to be your lawful husband? Do you promise to love him, honor him, and remain faithful to him in times of abundance and hardship, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”
My heart nearly stopped.
For as long as you both shall live?
What the hell?
For one terrifying second, the word ‘no’ hovered on the tip of my tongue.
Then I remembered Zara.
“...Yes,” I heard myself say.
The answer came out far too quickly.
Not because I wanted this marriage.
But because some rituals demanded sacrifice.
The priest turned to Rafael.
