Liana POV:
The air outside my father's sprawling estate was humid and thick with the smell of ozone from an approaching storm.
Armed guards patrolled the perimeter, their assault rifles slung across their chests.
I stood on the massive stone balcony, my gaze fixed on the winding driveway below.
Behind me, my father paced like a caged predator. He was smoking a cigar, the heavy, acrid scent of tobacco mixing with the smell of the incoming rain.
Sienna's father, our faction's Consigliere, stood by the glass doors, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
Sienna sat on one of the patio chairs, watching me with a mixture of concern and disbelief.
"You have lost your mind, Liana," my father growled.
He stopped pacing and pointed his cigar at me.
"Gabriel openly flaunts his civilian whore in the streets. He points a loaded gun at the Consigliere's own daughter. And you still agree to marry him? I curse your blind, pathetic devotion to that boy!"
I turned slowly from the marble railing to face him.
"It is not devotion, Papa," I said calmly, my voice devoid of the desperate emotion that used to rule me. "It is business."
Sienna's father scoffed, a harsh, bitter sound.
"Business? Gabriel insulted my family's honor. He severed a decades-old alliance over a clumsy, insignificant civilian."
"Sienna dodged a bullet," I told the Consigliere, meeting his hardened gaze without flinching.
"Gabriel's house is a sinking ship, rotting from the inside. But the marriage pact is non-negotiable. It is the only thing that secures our faction's absolute control over the Westside smuggling routes. We need that power to survive what's coming."
My father threw his cigar onto the stone floor and crushed it beneath his expensive leather shoe.
"Your life is worth more than pieces of territory, Liana!" my father yelled, the vein in his neck bulging.
"I will not hand my only daughter over to a man who will treat her like disposable garbage. We will break the damn pact. We will go to war if we have to."
Sienna stood up from her chair, her expression resolute.
"Listen to your father, Liana," Sienna urged, stepping forward to grab my hand.
"Break the pact. We can run. My family will back yours with every gun we have. We can fight Gabriel together."
I looked at the three of them. They were ready to bleed for me.
The memory hit me like a physical blow: in my past life, I had let my father go to war for my broken heart, and it had cost him his holdings, his men, and ultimately, his life.
"I will not let a single drop of our Family's blood spill over a man like Gabriel Rossi," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument.
I walked over to the patio table and picked up the heavy leather folder containing the marriage contract.
I tossed it onto the glass surface, the slap of leather echoing in the quiet night.
"Read the exact wording of the Omertà," I instructed.
My father frowned. He exchanged a confused glance with the Consigliere before he stepped forward and opened the folder.
"I am not the bride," I revealed, letting the words hang in the air.
The silence that fell over the balcony was absolute, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder.
"The contract only requires a woman possessing the direct bloodline of our Capo faction to seal the Omertà," I explained, tapping a manicured nail against the parchment. "It does not explicitly state my name."
My father's eyes widened as he scanned the old Sicilian text.
He looked up at me, a horrifying realization dawning on his weathered face.
"No," my father whispered, shaking his head in denial.
"Yes," I said, my lips curving into a humorless smile. "Valerie."
My father slammed the folder shut with enough force to rattle the glass table.
"Absolutely not!" he roared.
Valerie was my cousin. She carried our legitimate Family name, having been adopted into our ranks after her own parents were killed in a cartel shootout.
But she was a venomous snake.
"She orchestrated the 'accident' that left your mother permanently paralyzed!" my father shouted, his chest heaving with rage.
"She actively tried to usurp my territory from under me! I let her live only because your mother, in her infinite grace, begged for mercy. I will not elevate that treacherous rat to the position of Mafia Queen!"
I moved to meet him, halting in the path of his cigar smoke, and at that moment a flicker of lightning from the balcony’s edge threw my shadow long against the flagstones, eclipsing his own.
"That is exactly why she is the perfect choice," I said, my voice dropping to a low, chilling calm.
"Valerie is inherently malicious. She is endlessly hungry for power. She is treacherous to her very core. Her ruthless ambition is the perfect poison to inject straight into Gabriel's life."
My father stared at me, momentarily stunned into silence.
He saw the cold, unforgiving calculation in my eyes.
He saw, perhaps for the first time, that the naive, foolish girl who used to cry over Gabriel was gone.
"I will give Gabriel exactly what he deserves," I promised my father, my vow sealed with icy conviction. "A wife who will tear his house apart from the inside out."
Three days later, beneath an overcast sky, the traditional Sicilian wedding took place.
The courtyard of my father's estate was filled with hundreds of Made Men, their tailored suits hiding concealed weapons.
The air was thick with the rich smell of roasted meat and the sweet tang of expensive wine.
I stood on the second-floor balcony with Sienna, hidden in the shadows of the stone pillars.
Down below, Gabriel stood rigidly by his armored car.
He wore a striking, blood-red suit.
His face was a tight mask of furious impatience, his jaw clenching repeatedly.
With a heavy groan, the massive wooden doors of the estate opened.
The bride emerged into the dim daylight.
She was covered from head to toe in a heavy antique lace veil that completely obscured her features.
Two of my father's Capos escorted her down the stone steps and handed her over to Gabriel.
Gabriel did not even look at her.
He grabbed her arm roughly and shoved her into the back of the car.
He slammed the heavy door shut and got into the driver's seat.
Bound by duty, the Don took his veiled, venomous bride away to his fortress.
Sienna leaned against the cold stone railing beside me.
We watched the motorcade of black SUVs pull out of the wrought-iron gates and disappear down the mountain road.
"I wonder who will draw blood first," Sienna mused, a dark amusement dancing in her eyes. "The treacherous cousin, or the manipulative mistress?"
I turned away from the balcony.
"It doesn't matter," I said, adjusting the strap of my bag. "They will destroy each other."
I picked up my duffel bag from the floor.
"Let's go," I told Sienna. "I have a private jet waiting on the tarmac. I've secured a remote, untraceable estate in Iceland. We are going to disappear."
Sienna grabbed her own bag. A sharp, knowing smile spread across her lips.
"Gabriel and Camilla just signed their own death warrants," Sienna said.
"Yes, they did," I replied, stepping into the shadows.
