Chapter 4

"I'll head to the altar first."

His brow was still furrowed, but his tone had softened.

"You can punish me all you want when we get back. But today, please be my bride, alright?"

After the door closed, my phone began lighting up repeatedly. It was a series of messages from my mother.

[Sweetheart, we've just found our seats.]

[Your dad hasn't said a single word since we got here. I think he's even more nervous than you are.]

I reached out to touch the screen, but my fingertips passed straight through it again and again.

When I left home this morning, my father had personally threaded an old ring of his onto a chain and hung it around my neck.

"If you ever feel mistreated or unhappy, just come home."

Tobias had taken my hand tightly back then, promising with complete conviction, "That day will never come, sir."

My father's eyes had instantly welled up with tears.

Now, that ring, which I had resized for my finger, was right there with me, but I could never go home again.

With three minutes remaining, Rhea walked back in. She was holding the replacement ceremonial bouquet and a pair of white gloves. Tobias had already ordered the entire chapel to be redecorated, swapping everything back to the flowers I had originally chosen.

Staring at the bouquet, the corners of Rhea's mouth tightened into a hard line. Her gaze flicked to the family crest on my chest and the lace shawl draped over my shoulders, jealousy burning within her all over again.

"He actually swapped out the entire chapel's decor... He really gives in to your every whim, doesn't he?"

From outside, a staff member gave a quiet reminder. "Miss Rhea, it's time to take your place."

Rhea walked over to the door, then turned back to cast an icy glance at me. "If you really have the heart to leave Tobias standing at the altar all by himself, then by all means, keep sitting there."

She finally turned and left.

Moments later, the heavy doors of the main chapel slowly swung shut, and the wedding march began to play.

I had picked that piece of music myself. During rehearsals, I had complained that the march down the aisle was way too long. Tobias had wrapped his arm around me, chuckling. "No changing it. I want to watch you walk all the way toward me from the entrance."

Now, he stood proudly in front of the altar.

The priest raised his hands. "Let us welcome the future Donna."

Thunderous applause broke out, and everyone turned toward the entrance simultaneously.

Yet long seconds ticked by, and the side doors failed to open.

The applause gradually fizzled out. Several mafia Dons began exchanging uneasy glances, and a low murmur started spreading across the room.

My mother began calling me continuously. Inside the lounge, the phone vibrated again and again. The caller ID flashed "Mom" over and over, but no one answered.

Up at the altar, Tobias pulled out his phone as well and texted me.

[I'm waiting for you.]

Ten seconds passed.

[Ophelia, answer me.]

Still, total silence.

Standing near the front row, Rhea lowered her voice and offered, "She's probably still throwing a fit over what happened earlier."

The slight smile on Tobias' face vanished, his frown deepening. Staring at the stubbornly closed doors, a sudden, terrible premonition flashed through his mind. He remembered how I had kept my eyes tightly closed the entire time, never giving him a single response.

Tobias' face turned ashen in an instant. "Something's wrong..."

The next second, he whipped around and bolted out of the chapel, his speed picking up with every stride. By the time he reached the back hallway, he was sprinting.

He slammed open the lounge door.

"Ophelia?"

No one answered. Only my phone rang incessantly on the coffee table.

Standing at the threshold, Tobias turned pale.

"Ophelia?" He rushed over in long strides and lifted me straight into his arms.

My body had already begun to stiffen, my head drooping limply over his forearm.

Tobias froze.

The lace shawl slipped right off my shoulder, tugging the high-collared bridal gown down with it. The large, dark patch of angry red swelling across my throat was suddenly laid bare, and my veil slid away from the side of my face.

He finally saw it—my purplish, cyanotic lips, and my cold, bloodless gray face.

Tobias' eyes widened in sheer horror as the color completely drained from his face.

"Ophelia... Ophelia?!" He reached out to touch my face, his fingers trembling uncontrollably.

Pressing two fingers together, he slowly moved them toward my carotid artery.