Chapter 20 : THE RECEPTION

Everything felt like it was happening through a fog.

Kyrian stood beside Lorenzo.

People came up to them. Said things. Congratulations probably.

He nodded. Smiled when he thought he should.

But he wasn't really there.

His body was present but his mind had gone somewhere else.

Somewhere safer.

Someone handed him champagne.

He stared at the glass. Watched the bubbles rise.

Didn't drink it.

"You should eat something," his mother said quietly beside him.

"I'm not hungry."

"Kyrian—"

"I said I'm not hungry, Mama."

His voice came out harsher than he meant.

Arina flinched but didn't push.

Lorenzo was talking to Vincenzo.

Some business thing probably.

Kyrian wasn't listening.

He was too busy trying to breathe normally.

Standing this close to Lorenzo was... difficult.

Even with his medication. Even with all the air purifiers they'd installed in this room.

He could still smell it.

That distinct Enigma scent

Dark. Heavy. Overwhelming.

It made his skin crawl.

Made his chest feel tight.

"Time for photos," someone announced cheerfully.

No. No no no.

But people were already moving.

Arranging themselves.

The photographer gestured to a spot. White backdrop. More flowers.

Kyrian walked over because what else could he do?

Lorenzo followed.

They stood together.

Too close.

Way too close.

"Perfect! Now if the groom could just put his arm—"

"No," Kyrian said.

Everyone stopped.

"No touching," he said quieter.

"Just... stand next to me. That's fine."

Lorenzo's jaw tightened but he nodded.

They stood side by side. Not touching. Barely even looking at each other.

The photographer seemed confused but kept going.

"Okay, smile for me!"

Kyrian tried.

He really did.

But his face wouldn't cooperate.

Click. Click. Click.

"Beautiful! Now with families—"

More people crowded around them.

His parents. His brother. The Morettis.

More photos.

Kyrian felt like he was suffocating.

Too many people. Too many Alpha scents mixing together.

His vision started to blur at the edges.

"One more with just the couple—"

"I need a minute," Kyrian heard himself say.

"What?" Lorenzo turned to him

"Excuse me." Kyrian stepped back. "I need—bathroom."

He walked away quickly.

Didn't look back.

Found a hallway. A door.

Locked himself in the bathroom.

His hands were shaking.

He gripped the sink. Looked at his reflection.

The makeup was still perfect. Hair still neat.

But his eyes looked wrong.

Panicked.

He reached into his jacket pocket. Found his emergency medication case.

Two pills inside.

He wasn't supposed to take these unless absolutely necessary.

They made him drowsy. Nauseous.

But he needed them now.

He swallowed both without water.

Splashed cold water on his face.

Breathed.

Just breathed.

Fifteen minutes. The pills would kick in after fifteen minutes.

He could do this.

He dried his face carefully. Fixed his hair.

Looked presentable again.

Opened the door.

Ivan was waiting in the hallway.

"You okay?"

"Had to take emergency meds."

"Fuck." Ivan stepped closer. "You need to lie down? I can make an excuse—"

"No. I'm fine." Kyrian straightened his shoulders. "Let's just get through this."

They walked back together.

The reception continued.

Eating. Talking. Toasting.

Kyrian pushed food around his plate.

The nausea from the pills was setting in.

He just had to hold on a little longer.

LEAVING

"Cars are ready," Dante said.

Kyrian's stomach dropped.

Right.

They had to leave now.

Go to the Moretti estate.

His new home.

Everyone started moving outside.

Two black cars waited in the driveway.

Lorenzo walked toward the first one.

Kyrian stopped.

"I'm not riding with you," he said.

Lorenzo turned. "What?"

"I said I'm not riding in the same car as you." Kyrian kept his voice flat. "I'll take the second one."

"Kyrian—"

"You know why." Kyrian looked at him directly. "Extended time in an enclosed space with an Enigma.

That's not safe for me."

Lorenzo's expression shifted. He wanted to argue.

But he couldn't. Not without looking like he didn't care.

"Fine," he said finally. "Take the second car."

Kyrian turned to his family.

His mother hugged him tight. "Call me. Every day."

"I will, Mama."

His father's hug was brief but strong. "Be strong, son."

"Always."

Ivan hugged him last. Whispered in his ear. "One phone call.

Anytime. Day or night."

"I know."

Kyrian got into the second car.

The car started moving.

He watched through the window as everything familiar disappeared behind them.

"How long?" he asked.

"Forty minutes."

Forty minutes until his new life began.

Kyrian leaned his head against the window.

The medication was making him drowsy.

His eyes felt heavy.

He fought it for a while.

But eventually he gave in.

Let his eyes close.

Slept.

MORETTI ESTATE

"We're here.

Driver's voice pulled him back.

Kyrian opened his eyes. Blinked.

Looked out the window.

The Moretti estate.

It was... huge.

White stone. Tall windows. Beautiful in a cold way.

Nothing like what he'd seen in his dream.

In the dream it had felt warm somehow. Inviting.

This looked like a fortress.

The car door opened.

Lorenzo stood there. Waiting.

"Welcome home," he said quietly.

Kyrian got out slowly.

Looked up at the building.

Home.

What a fucking joke.

"Let me show you around," Lorenzo offered.

"No." Kyrian's voice was tired.

"Just show me where I'm staying. I need to lie down."

"Of course." Lorenzo gestured toward the entrance. "This way."

They walked inside.

Kyrian barely registered the details.

Marble everywhere. High ceilings.

Paintings that probably cost more than his parents' house.

It all felt cold.

Empty.

They climbed a staircase.

Down a long hallway.

Lorenzo stopped at a door.

"This is your room," he said.

Your room.

Not our room.

Kyrian looked at him sharply.

"I thought separate rooms would be better," Lorenzo said. "Given your condition. For now."

"Oh." Kyrian didn't know how to feel about that. "Okay."

"Your things are inside. If you need anything, my room is at the end of the hall."

They stood there awkwardly.

Married.

Strangers.

"I'll leave you to rest," Lorenzo said.

"Wait."

Lorenzo paused.

"Why separate rooms?" Kyrian asked. "You wanted this. You forced this marriage. So why give me space now?"

"Because I'm not a monster,"

Lorenzo said quietly. "I know you hate me. I'm not going to make it worse by forcing proximity you're not ready for."

Kyrian stared at him.

"You're confusing," he said finally.

"I know."

"You force me into marriage but give me my own room. You threaten my family but research my condition. You're controlling but call it protection." Kyrian's voice was flat. "Which one is real?"

"All of it," Lorenzo said. "I'm all of those things."

"That doesn't make sense."

"No. It doesn't."

Lorenzo turned and walked away.

Left Kyrian standing there.

Alone.

Kyrian watched him go.

Then opened the door to his room.

Stepped inside.

Locked it behind him.

The room was nice. Big windows. Cream walls. Comfortable looking bed

A pretty cage.

His suitcases were by the closet.

Someone had already started unpacking.

He walked to the bed. Sat down heavily.

Looked at his left hand.

At the ring Lorenzo had placed there.

Simple gold band.

He'd wanted to refuse it during the ceremony.

But that's not how this worked.

He was married now.

Kyrian Moretti.

The name felt wrong.

Like it belonged to someone else.

He lay back on the bed.

Stared at the ceiling.

And finally let himself cry.

DOWNSTAIRS

A knock on the door.

Kyrian had fallen asleep at some point.

Still in his wedding clothes.

Another knock.

"What?" His voice came out rough.

"Dinner's ready," a voice said through the door. Not Lorenzo's. Someone else's.

"I'm not hungry."

"Lorenzo says you need to eat something."

"Lorenzo can fuck off."

Silence on the other side.

Then: "Please. Just come down.

Even if you don't eat."

Kyrian groaned.

Sat up slowly.

His head hurt from crying. From the medication. From everything.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

Still in the white suit. Makeup smudged now. Hair a mess.

He didn't care.

Didn't change.

Just opened the door.

A young man stood there. Early twenties maybe. Dark hair. Kind eyes.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Matteo.

Lorenzo's brother."

Oh.

Right.

Kyrian had seen him at the wedding but they hadn't really talked.

"Kyrian," he said automatically.

Then realized how stupid that was. "But you know that already."

"Yeah." Matteo smiled slightly.

"Dinner's downstairs. The family's waiting."

Family.

Right.

His new family.

God, he hated this.

"Lead the way," Kyrian said.

They walked downstairs together.

Matteo kept glancing at him. Like he wanted to say something but didn't know how.

"What?" Kyrian finally asked.

"Nothing. Just..." Matteo hesitated.

"Are you okay?"

"No."

The honesty seemed to surprise Matteo.

"That's fair," he said quietly.

They reached the dining room.

Large table. Too many chairs.

Vincenzo and Isabella were already seated. Lorenzo too.

All three looked up when Kyrian entered.

"Kyrian," Isabella stood. "Come, sit. You must be exhausted."

Kyrian sat in the chair furthest from Lorenzo.

Matteo sat beside him.

Staff brought out food. Expensive looking dishes.

Kyrian stared at his plate.

"You should eat something," Isabella said gently.

"So I keep hearing."

The words came out sharper than he intended.

Isabella's smile faltered.

"I know this is difficult," Vincenzo said. "But we're family now. We want you to feel comfortable here."

Kyrian laughed. Short and bitter.

"Comfortable. Right."

"Kyrian—" Lorenzo started.

"Don't." Kyrian looked at him directly. "Don't pretend this is normal. Don't act like I'm here by choice. Just... don't."

Silence fell over the table.

Heavy and awkward.

Matteo cleared his throat. "So, uh. How was the drive over?"

Kyrian appreciated the attempt. Really.

"Fine," he said. "Quiet."

"That's good."

More silence.

This was unbearable.

Kyrian picked up his fork. Pushed food around his plate.

Took a small bite to keep them from asking again.

It tasted like nothing.

"We've made some arrangements," Vincenzo said after a moment.

"For your condition. Medical equipment. Emergency supplies. A doctor on call."

"How thoughtful," Kyrian said flatly.

"We want you to be safe—"

"You want me to survive long enough to not cause problems."

Kyrian set his fork down. "Let's not pretend it's about my wellbeing."

"That's not fair—" Isabella started.

"Isn't it?" Kyrian looked at her.

"Your son forced me into marriage. Threatened my family.

Dragged me here. And now you want me to what? Be grateful for the medical equipment?"

"No one's asking you to be grateful," Lorenzo said quietly.

"Just to try."

"Try." Kyrian's voice was cold. "Try to what? Be a good omega? Play house? Pretend I'm happy?"

"Try to stay alive," Lorenzo said.

That shut Kyrian up.

Because he was right.

That's all this was.

Trying to stay alive.

"I'm tired," Kyrian said finally.

"Can I be excused?"

"Of course," Isabella said quickly. "Rest. We can talk more tomorrow."

Kyrian stood.

Walked to the door.

Paused.

Looked back at Lorenzo.

"Just so we're clear," he said quietly. "Separate rooms doesn't change anything. This marriage? It's a piece of paper. That's all it'll ever be."

Lorenzo's expression was unreadable.

"We'll see," he said.

Something about the way he said it made Kyrian's stomach drop.

Like Lorenzo knew something he didn't.

Like there was another shoe waiting to drop.

Kyrian left the room quickly.

Went back upstairs.

Locked himself in his room again.

Changed out of the wedding clothes finally. Put on comfortable things.

Sat on the bed.

His phone buzzed.

A message from his mother: How are you, baby? Is everything okay?

Kyrian stared at the screen.

How was he?

Trapped. Scared. Alone.

But he couldn't tell her that.

I'm fine, Mama. Just tired. I'll call you tomorrow.

He set the phone down.

Lay back on the bed.

Stared at the ceiling.

And wondered what Lorenzo had meant.

We'll see.

See what?

What else could there possibly be?

He was already married. Already trapped here.

What more could Lorenzo take from him?

The thought kept him awake long into the night.

TO BE CONTINUED...