Page 118 of Maddening Fixation

Then my father would soon face the consequences of that decision.

And knowing Romeo Flynn...

They wouldn’t be merciful.

But it hurt.

It hurt that he could simply disappear from our lives without a word.

He’d walked away from the empire he’d spent decades building, leaving the Bratva in the hands of his lieutenant and his younger brother.

He’d abandoned my mother when she needed him most, knowing how fragile her health had become.

And he’d abandoned me...

Even after being the one who’d pushed so relentlessly for this arranged marriage, insisting it was the only path forward.

No farewell.

No explanation.

No letter waiting on his desk.

Only an empty chair at breakfast and hushed conversations among armed guards who suddenly refused to meet my eyes.

I blinked rapidly, forcing the tears gathering in my eyes to retreat before they could ruin the careful work the makeup artist had spent hours perfecting.

Not today.

Straightening my shoulders, I lifted my chin and met my reflection one last time.

The woman staring back looked poised and elegant.

No one would guess how utterly alone she felt.

Drawing one steadying breath, I turned away from the mirror and stepped into the long stone corridor leading toward the church nave.

The cool air wrapped around me immediately, carrying the rich scent of incense, polished wood, melted candle wax, and fresh white lilies decorating the sanctuary.

Every measured step of my heels echoed softly against the ancient stone floor, each click sounding impossibly loud in the otherwise hushed hallway.

My gown whispered around my ankles as though even the fabric knew this walk would change everything.

I was never meant to make this journey alone.

My father should have been here, offering me his arm with quiet pride, whispering reassurances.

Instead, there was only silence beside me.

My grip tightened around the bouquet of deep crimson roses until I felt the hidden thorns press painfully through my satin gloves.

The sharp sting grounded me.

My eyes lifted instinctively, drawn toward the altar as though an invisible thread had wrapped itself around my heart and was pulling me forward one reluctant step at a time.

Two figures waited.

The priest stood with solemn dignity in richly embroidered vestments, his weathered hands folded over an ancient leather-bound Bible.