Chapter 4

Noah's POV 

The day was finally here, my wedding day. Most people would be excited they were getting married to the love of their life but here I am, sold to my husband like I mean nothing.

I have always dreamt of getting married one day, to start a family but I don't think that is possible anymore.

I stood in front of the mirror, the suit I wore was expensive. Tailored to perfection. Black silk with silver accents, hugging my frame like it had been sewn into my skin. I could barely recognize myself in the mirror. I looked… elegant. Put together. Like someone who belonged in a place like this.

But on the inside, I was still the same broken boy trying to breathe through the tight cage of fear that had wrapped around me for as long as I could remember.

This wasn’t how I imagined getting married.

There were no flowers. No soft music. No whispered promises or shared dreams.

Just gold, glass, and power.

The Moretti estate was massive, elegant in that cold, intimidating kind of way. And at the center of it all stood Damian Moretti.

My soon-to-be husband.

Cold. Composed. Untouchable.

He looked every bit the mafia king he was born to be, tall, broad, with sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes that stripped away every layer I tried to hide behind. He didn’t say much. He didn’t have to. His presence alone filled the room.

I was the shadow next to him. Quiet. Waiting. Trapped in a moment I couldn’t escape.

The ceremony was brief. No priest. No vows.

Just a binding signature on a piece of parchment older than both of us, sealed by blood and tradition.

I stood beside Damian in front of a  witnesses, his father, his mother, his younger sister, the two men that picked me from my father's house which I have come to learn are his best friends, my father, my stepmother and my step sister. 

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my hands from shaking as the elder Moretti stepped forward.

“Do you, Noah Smith, take Damian Moretti as your husband, bound by blood and name under the sacred vow of unity?”

I hesitated for the briefest second.

But then I nodded. “I do.”

My voice sounded foreign.

Damian’s answer was swift. “I do.”

Our blood was drawn. A small cut on our thumbs, pressed together, the old tradition meant to symbolize binding souls. I couldn’t help but wonder if he felt anything. If this meant anything to him.

To me, it meant a door closing behind me. Locking. Sealing my fate.

“Then it is done,” the elder declared.

The weight of silence that followed was heavier than any applause.

After the ceremony, we moved into the main hall for a small reception. Not one for guests or family photos or dancing. Just close Moretti associates, a table lined with fine wine, and a future I couldn’t quite comprehend.

I sat stiffly beside Damian. He didn’t touch me, didn’t even look at me unless someone addressed us both.

I could feel eyes on me from all directions, measured, assessing, curious.

Then came a soft voice. Feminine. Calm.

“You must be Noah.”

I looked up to see a woman approaching our table. She was Damien mother, Damian looked so much like his mother, his mother looked beautiful. 

She smiled gently, her red lips painted like art. “I am Isabella ,Damian’s mother." She said 

I stood awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

Her gaze softened further. “It’s okay. You don’t need to impress me. I just wanted to finally meet the boy with the painter’s eyes.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

She stepped closer and placed a hand on my arm. “Your mother. Aria. She had your eyes.”

The world tilted.

“You knew my mother?” I asked, my voice quieter now, nearly a whisper.

Isabella nodded. “I did. We all did. She was… something special.”

Another figure approached, but this time it was Damien father.  He gave a small nod. “I am Dante. Damian’s father. We were friends with your mother a long time ago.”

I stared at them, unable to speak.

“She was painting at a small gallery,” Isabella continued. “Pregnant with you. Alone but radiant. She used colors like emotions, and she talked about you like you were her miracle.”

“She… talked about me?”

“All the time,” Dante said. “She told us she was married, but her husband didn’t love her. Didn’t even want the child.”

My throat closed.

“She told us,” Isabella added gently, “that the only reason she stayed in that house was for you. That you were the only light she had left.”

Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes. I hadn’t cried in front of anyone since I was twelve.

“She never mentioned any friends,” I whispered. “Not to me. Not once.”

“She probably wanted to protect you from that world,” Isabella said. “We… aren’t exactly saints. But we loved her.”

“We would’ve helped her if she had asked,” Dante added. “But she vanished one day. Went back to him. We searched, but your father kept her hidden until we heard the news that she passed away. We offer our help but she refused " Dante said.

“Her paintings usually tells a story, a meaningful one. That was why we were so drawn to her. She was telling her stories through her paintings" Isabella said 

A tear slipped down my cheek.

"Your mother will be proud of who you are today, I know everything that is happening now is unexpected but with time, everything will make sense, trust me" Dante said while putting his hands on my shoulder.

It was the first time in years that someone had spoken about my mother with kindness. Not anger. Not silence.

Just love.

Then my father and stepmother walked up to me.

"Well, I am still surprised you are still breathing" Vivian, my stepmother said

"Now that you are married to them, there is nothing connecting us together anymore " my father said with anger. I did not say a word because it was of no use. Then they walked off.

Later, after the reception ended and the last guest left, Damien did not say a word to me at all, he just went upstairs to his room. 

I then went up to my room, when I got there, I saw something on my bed, I saw a gift. Then I proceeded to unwrap it. What I saw took my breath away. I saw different kinds of paint brush and paint and canvas too, everything I needed to continue painting. Then I saw a note.

"This was what we could think about to gift you as a wedding gift, your mother always told us about how you were following in her footsteps, so with this, we hope you can continue doing that. Love mom and dad"

The note were from Damien parents, as I read the note, tears started falling down my eyes, I stopped painting when my mother died because my father didn't like it. But in college, I started painting in secrete and sold my paintings in order to have money.

Then a knock came through, I stood up to open the door thinking it was Elena, but it was Damien. I was shocked to see him standing in front of my room.

"Do you need anything?" I asked him

"No, I just wanted to remind you about you starting work tomorrow" he said 

"Yes, I remembered " I replied 

"Good, you must be at my office by 8am, I don't like lateness and you will find your way yourself" he said and handed me a pass

"Show this to the receptionist when you get there" he said and walked away. I just looked at his shadow disappearing down the hall.

I was already used to taking public transport so it was nothing new to me. I closed the door and went to the bathroom to shower, after I was done, I wore a loose t shirt and a loose joggers and went to my bed.

I lay in bed that night, curled on my side, facing the moonlit window. I was thinking about how tomorrow would be or how my life will be from now on. But knowing there was someone who knew my mother for who she was, was enough for me. 

I took the pendant from my bed side drawer and held it close to my heart. The pendant was the only thing I had of my mother, the only thing that reminded me of her. I did not know when I drifted off to sleep.