I caught a glimpse of his face through the veil. Roman Moretti—the mafia Don who controlled everything, and nothing, was above his reach. His sharp jawline, the stoic set of his expression—it was like staring at a piece of marble. Cold, unreadable. But even as I stood there, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders, I couldn’t help but notice how my heart picked up its pace under the intensity of his gaze.

His eyes... they weren’t as cold as I had imagined. They were dark—almost too dark to be real—and they seemed to be searching for something. My sister, Chloe, would have been a perfect match for him. She was blonde, poised, elegant—everything this life demanded. I, on the other hand, had never been a part of their world. I was just a quiet brunette, used to hiding in the shadows. But it wasn’t just my appearance that would fool him. It was my blood.

Then the moment came.

The priest lifted his hand, motioning for the veil to be lifted, and with it, my fate was sealed. I could hear the collective gasp from the guests around us.

He was staring at me now, his face unreadable, but I felt the intensity of it—like he was trying to make sense of a puzzle that didn't quite fit.

“Who are you?” he finally asked, his voice a dangerous whisper that sent a shiver down my spine.