Chapter 2 - Shadows of the Wedding Night(Word Count: ~1,800 words)
“...Julian,” Eleanor whispered.
The name hit my ears like a physical blow. Julian Rossi. My younger half-brother. The black sheep who had tried to stage a coup within the Moretti syndicate four years ago.
Official records—and my own memories—dictated that Julian died during a shootout on the night of my wedding to Alina. We believed an rival faction had ambushed his motorcade outside the reception hall. I had spent three years believing Julian’s death was the tragic collateral damage of our blood feud.
“If Dante finds out Julian didn't ambush the motorcade, he will tear this city apart,” Alina begged her mother, her voice muffled as if burying her face in her hands. “He thinks Julian died taking a bullet meant for him. If he learns the truth about who Julian was working with that night, the fragile peace between our families will shatter.”
Outside the room, my knuckles turned white against the wooden frame.
Three years ago, on the night of our wedding, I had been lured out to the eastern docks by an urgent radio call claiming a breach in our weapons shipment. When I returned to the estate two hours later, Julian was dead, his body riddled with bullets near the perimeter gates. Alina had been waiting in the bridal suite, pale, shaking, and wearing a silk gown stained with faint splatters of crimson. She had told me she hid in the panic room when she heard gunfire.
I had spent three years admiring her quiet resilience. I had spent three years protecting her from my dark world, believing she was an innocent angel caught in the crossfire.
Now, standing in the dim hallway, the reality shifted beneath my feet.
“Julian didn't die defending the family, Mom,” Alina’s voice trembled, barely audible. “He came into my dressing room before the ceremony even started. He had a gun to my head. He told me that if I didn't poison Dante’s champagne glass during our first toast, he would have his men slaughter my father and younger brother within ten minutes.”
I stopped breathing. The air in the hallway felt thick, suffocating.
“And you took the vial,” Eleanor said softly.
“I had no choice!” Alina wept. “He showed me a live video feed of my brother tied to a chair in a warehouse. But I couldn't poison Dante. The moment I looked into Dante’s eyes at the altar, I knew I would rather die than hurt him. So I poured the poison into the floral arrangement when nobody was looking.”
Inside my chest, something broken began to mend, followed instantly by a wave of white-hot rage. She hadn't stayed with me out of fear. She had carried the weight of a death sentence from the moment she walked down the aisle.
“When Julian realized Dante wasn't dead after the toast, he dragged me out to the eastern pavilion,” Alina whispered, her voice cracking. “He raised his gun to shoot me for failing him. But my father’s enforcer, Marco, stepped out of the shadows. They fought over the weapon... and Marco shot him. We covered it up. We made it look like a rival hit to protect my family from Julian’s hidden allies inside the Moretti ranks.”
“And those allies are still inside Dante’s organization,” Eleanor said ominously. “Waiting for the right moment to finish what Julian started.”
Alina let out a ragged breath. “Yes. That’s why I can never tell Dante the truth. If he knew Julian’s network was still active inside his inner circle, he would burn Chicago to the ground—and he might not survive the war.”
I slowly pulled my hand back from the door handle.
The twenty-seven pages of divorce papers slipped from my fingers, fluttering silently onto the carpeted floor. My lawyer had drafted an exit strategy to protect a fragile woman from my violent life.
I didn't need an exit strategy. I needed a war plan.
I turned around without making a sound and walked down the long corridor toward my private study. My stride was no longer that of a hesitant, guilt-ridden husband. It was the movement of a predator that had finally identified its target.
I pulled out my secure phone and dialed my head of security, Dominic—a man I had trusted with my life for fifteen years.
“Boss?” Dominic’s low voice answered on the second ring. “Is everything alright with the legal documents?”
“Cancel the divorce, Dominic,” I said, my tone as cold as absolute zero. “And clear your schedule. I need a full, dark-level sweep of every communication log inside the Moretti inner circle over the last thirty-six hours.”
May you like
There was a subtle pause on the line. “Did something happen, Dante?”
“My wife has been carrying a target on her back for three years to keep me alive,” I replied, staring out the floor-to-ceiling glass window at the rain-slicked Chicago skyline. “It’s time I took the gun out of her hands.”
Related Stories
