The old, classic European-style church was filled with light. White marble, lilies, high-society guests—everything was perfect.

Today was Dante's little sister's wedding. Dante stood at the entrance, his custom-made black suit fitting perfectly. His face was cold, his gaze impassive.

Everyone turned. Some whispered. The big boss. The bride's scary-looking brother.

He stepped in… then stopped. In the front row, a small girl stood, adjusting her soft pastel dress. Her hair was half-tied, her face naturally beautiful—not the type to steal attention, but still taking his breath away without permission.

His blue eyes narrowed, his hands clenched tightly, trying to stay sane even though his little sister's husband's daughter was making his legs tremble like jelly.

"You look like a cupcake."