Seraphina POV
The heavy, suffocating silence brought by Damien Falcone’s arrival was suddenly broken by the frantic rustle of silk. My aunt Beverly Gallo rushed up the steps of the marble dais, her eyes wide with a perfectly manufactured panic. She grabbed my wrist, her nails digging into my skin.
"Sera, stop this madness now," Beverly hissed under her breath, desperate to keep the marriage market open for her own daughter, Hannah. "It's not too late to step down before you ruin yourself and this family."
I looked down at her hand, then up at the sea of vipers waiting for my downfall. I coldly yanked my arm from her grip. "I never regret, Aunt Beverly."
Beverly shrank back, her mask of concern slipping into bitter resentment. But before she could retreat into the crowd, the heavy iron gates of the garden swung open with a resounding clang.
Luca, the fiercely loyal emissary of the Moretti family, marched down the red carpet. He was flanked by a dozen stone-faced Soldiers whose presence instantly suffocated the remaining air in the garden. He stopped at the base of the dais, his voice booming with absolute authority.
"A message from the Matriarch of the Moretti family," Luca announced. The crowd froze. "Isabella Moretti formally recognizes Seraphina as the adopted daughter of her late, beloved friend, Isabella Gallo Marino. From this day forward, Seraphina enjoys the absolute protection of the Moretti bloodline."
A collective gasp rippled through the elite. Luca wasn't finished. He signaled a Soldier, who handed me a leather-bound folder. "A birthday gift from the Queen. The deed to a Fifth Avenue high-rise, and the controlling shares of a luxury import company."
Carissa’s face contorted, her manicured nails biting so hard into her palms they drew blood. Sophia looked as though she might faint. I was no longer the orphaned collateral; I was a Princess crowned in gold.
I leaned into the microphone, my eyes scanning the stunned crowd. "As I said. Any man who wishes to be my husband may step forward."
Sophia frantically nudged her useless nephew, Marco Conti. Marco puffed out his chest and took a step toward the dais.
He didn't make it to the second step.
Damien Falcone moved with terrifying speed. He didn't even spare Marco a glance; he simply clamped a massive, unforgiving hand onto Marco’s shoulder. Marco’s face drained of color, his knees buckling under the sheer, predatory force of the Chicago Underboss. Damien’s Soldiers seamlessly boxed out anyone else who dared to breathe in my direction.
Damien ascended the marble steps. He ignored the hundreds of staring eyes, dropping to one knee before me. It wasn't a gesture of submission, but a lethal promise. His dark eyes burned into mine.
"I accept your terms, Princess," Damien said, his deep, gravelly voice carrying effortlessly across the silent garden. "I'm here to claim what's mine."
"Absolutely not!" Francesca Marino’s cane struck the marble floor like a gunshot. Her face was purple with rage. "A Marino will never ally with a Chicago—"
"Signora Marino," Luca interrupted, his polite smile not reaching his cold eyes. He pulled a second document from his breast pocket. "Isabella Moretti sends her deepest blessings for this union. In fact, she has formally invited Don Augustus Falcone to New York next week to discuss the young couple's future."
It wasn't a blessing. It was a command from the highest power in our world. Francesca’s mouth snapped shut, her absolute authority within the family shattered in an instant. Angelo Valenti stood frozen in the crowd, his face the color of ash as he realized he had just lost the ultimate prize.
As the initial shock wore off and the jazz band nervously resumed playing, the party fractured into tense, whispering clusters. Sophia and Angelo wasted no time cornering me near the champagne tower.
"You are betraying your own blood," Sophia hissed, her eyes venomous. "We will never ally with their enemies."
Angelo stepped closer, his arrogance barely masking his wounded pride. "I could have given you a dignified way out for Carissa's sake. You chose the stupidest path. The Devil's reputation isn't a myth, Sera. He will destroy you."
I looked at the man I was supposed to marry, feeling nothing but pure disgust.
"It's Miss Marino to you now," I said, my voice dripping with ice. I stepped into his space, forcing him to look up slightly. "Are you questioning a union blessed by Isabella Moretti? Or perhaps, you believe you know better than the Queen of New York?"
Angelo’s jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might shatter. Sophia grabbed his arm, pulling him back before he could do something that would get him killed by Luca's men.
They retreated into the thinning crowd, but as the evening bled into the after-party, I caught Carissa whispering frantically into Angelo’s ear. Her eyes darted toward me, gleaming with a desperate, malicious light. The rats were cornered, and I knew they were about to bite.
