CHAPTER 6: "THE WEDDING"

The night before the wedding, Evageline was dragged out of the basement.

The door opened hard. Hands grabbed her arms. She cried out, pain shooting through her head where the stitches still pulled. The guards did not slow. They hauled her up the stairs, her bare feet scraping the floor. Her body was weak, her stomach empty, her head light. She could barely stand, but they kept pulling.

“She has to look decent,” one of them said. “Orders from Roman.”

Eva’s heart jumped at the name. Roman. Tomorrow. Death.

They pushed her into a bedroom upstairs. Bright lights burned her eyes. A maid rushed in right after, her face tight with fear. The door was locked behind them.

“Hurry,” the maid whispered. “We don’t have time.”

Eva stood there, shaking, while the maid stripped off her thin clothes. Bruises showed on her arms. The cut on her forehead was still wrapped, the bandage stained. The maid sucked in a breath but said nothing. She wiped Eva down fast, careful near her head. Then she brought out a dress laid on the bed.

It was white. Simple. Clean. Too clean for someone like her.

“Roman sent this,” the maid said quietly. “He said it must fit. He said his bride must look nice.”

Eva laughed once, sharp and broken. “Bride,” she whispered. Her knees almost gave way.

The maid helped her into the dress. It was soft but felt heavy on her skin. She pulled it down, smoothed it, fixed the back. Her hands moved fast, nervous. She brushed Eva’s hair, trying to hide the dullness, the fear. She put light makeup on her face, but it could not hide the dark under Eva’s eyes.

Before the maid could finish, the door opened.

Stella walked in.

She was smiling. Dressed well. Calm. Like this was a game.

“Well,” Stella said, clapping her hands once. “Look at you.”

Eva looked at her through the mirror. Her chest tightened.

Stella walked closer, circling her. “So this is the dress,” she said. “Roman has good taste. Imagine that. The cold Roman De Luca, ordering a dress himself.”

She laughed, light and mocking. “He doesn’t even do this for most women. And I’m not even marrying him yet.”

Eva said nothing. Her fingers curled into the fabric of the dress.

Stella leaned close, her voice low. “You see how much he cares? He sends cars, dresses, guards. For me. Even now.”

The maid stiffened. “Miss, you should”

Stella waved her off. “Relax. I’m just talking.”

She looked back at Eva, eyes sharp. “Tomorrow, he will stand there waiting. And you will walk to him. Poor thing.”

Eva’s lips trembled. “Why are you here?” she whispered.

Stella smiled wider. “To see this. To enjoy it.”

Footsteps came from the hall. Their father walked in, face hard.

“That’s enough,” he said to Stella. “You need to leave.”

Stella frowned. “Now?”

“Yes,” he said. “You’re being sent away. Another country. You will stay hidden. If things go wrong, Roman must not find you.”

Stella’s smile slipped. “You’re sending me away?”

“For your safety,” he said. “Go.”

She stared at Eva once more, then laughed again, forced this time. “Enjoy your wedding,” she said. “If you can.”

She walked out just as a car engine sounded outside.

The maid hurried again. She placed a thick veil over Eva’s face, hiding her eyes, her tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Eva was led downstairs. The front door opened. Cold air hit her skin.

The car was black. Roman’s car.

Matteo stepped out from the front seat and opened the door. He paused when he saw her, really looked at her. His brows pulled together.

“What’s your name?” he asked gently.

Eva was shaking too hard to answer. Her teeth clicked. Her hands would not stop.

“Get her in,” Damien said.

He grabbed her arm and shoved her into the back seat. He leaned close, his mouth near her ear. “I’ll celebrate when you’re dead,” he whispered. “I’ll drink to it.”

The door slammed shut.

The drive was quiet. Too quiet. Eva stared at her hands in her lap. Her mind raced. Three days. No, today. This was it.

The car stopped.

They helped her out. Her legs felt like water. The place was small. Simple. No guests. No music. Just silence.

Matteo stood to the side. Roman stood ahead, waiting.

He was dressed in black. Still. Calm. His eyes were on her.

Eva took one step. Then another. The floor felt far away. Her chest hurt. Her breath came fast.

Halfway there, her knees buckled.

She fell to the floor, sobbing. Her body shook so hard she could not breathe.

“Please,” she cried. “Please don’t kill me.”

Roman did not move.

“I’ll do anything,” she said, her voice breaking. “Anything. Just let me live.”

She reached up with shaking hands and pulled the veil off her face. Mascara ran down her cheeks. Tears blurred her sight.

“My name is Evageline,” she said. “I’m not Stella. She didn’t want to marry you. They sent me instead.”

Silence filled the room.

Eva looked up.

Roman turned his head and looked at Matteo. A slow smirk touched his face, like he already knew.

Matteo let out a breath, sharp. He pulled out his wallet and handed over cash.

Roman took it. He did not look angry. He did not look shocked.

He looked calm.

Roman took the cash from Matteo without a word.

Then he surprised her.

He knelt down in front of Eva.

The floor was cold under her knees, her body still shaking, her hands curled tight against her chest. Roman lowered himself until they were at the same level. His suit brushed the floor. The room stayed silent, heavy.

Eva swallowed. Her voice came out thin. “Aren’t you angry?”

Roman studied her face. Not the veil. Not the dress. Her. The fear in her eyes. The blood still faint under the makeup. The way she shook like she might fall apart if someone breathed too close.

Anger never came.

He reached out and picked her up.

Eva gasped as his arms slid under her knees and back. He held her steady, careful, like she weighed nothing, like she mattered. Her hands clutched his jacket without meaning to. His grip stayed firm, grounding.

Roman stood and began to walk down the aisle with her in his arms.

Slow. Thoughtful. As if he was deciding something with every step.

Eva stared at his face, her heart pounding so loud she thought he must hear it. “Roman” she whispered, unsure if she was allowed to say his name.

He did not answer right away.

At the front, a small table waited. On it lay a marriage certificate, already open. Two pens were tied together with white ribbon. Everything was ready. Everything had been waiting.

Roman stopped. He lowered Eva gently until her feet touched the floor. He did not let go until he was sure she could stand. His hands stayed at her waist, steadying her.

“Do you remember me?” he asked quietly.

Eva nodded, her throat tight. “Yes.”

Her voice dropped. “You were the one from that night.” She hesitated, pain flickering across her face. “But you wanted my sister.”

Roman shook his head at once. “No.”

The word was firm. Certain.

“I wanted you.”

Eva looked up, confused, unsure. Her brows pulled together. “But you asked for her.”

Roman’s hands slid away as he carefully placed her in front of the table, right before the document. He straightened.

The cold look people feared was gone.

What replaced it made her breath catch.

His eyes were dark, focused, full of intent. Not cruel. Not distant. Watching her like she was the only thing in the room worth seeing.

“I asked for her name,” he said. “Not her.”

Eva’s hands trembled. “You said you would marry her.”

“I said what I needed to say.”

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t understand.”

A small sound left his throat, almost a laugh. Soft. Controlled.

“Do you remember what you told me that night?” he asked.

Eva’s lips parted. Her mind rushed back. Heat. Fear. Words spoken without thinking.

She shook her head again. “I was scared. I don’t remember everything.”

Roman stepped closer. He lowered his voice, like this was only for her.

“You told me you were invisible,” he said. “You told me no one ever chose you.”

Eva’s chest tightened.

“You said,” he continued, “‘Whatever I have, my sister takes. And whatever my sister hates gets dumped on me.’”

Her breath broke.

Roman lifted his hand and touched her cheek. Slow. Careful. Like she might shatter. His thumb brushed away a tear that had slipped free.

“So,” he murmured, “to have you, my queen, I willingly let myself get dumped.”

Eva froze.

He leaned in just enough for his words to reach only her.

“I always knew it would be you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “This was the only way I could have you.”

Her world tilted.

She stared at him, stunned, shaking from head to toe. “I thought you wanted my sister.”

He shook his head again, gentler this time. “I wanted the girl who thought she was nothing.”

His thumb stayed on her cheek. Reverent. Possessive. Protective.

“The girl who didn’t know her worth,” he said softly. “The girl they were willing to kill.”

Eva’s knees weakened. “Why?” she asked. “Why go this far?”

“Because they would never give you to me,” Roman said. “Not freely. Not alive.”

Silence swallowed the room.

Tears slid down Eva’s face, slow and heavy. “Then why am I still alive?”

Roman looked at her like the answer was simple.

“Because you are mine,” he said. “And I do not break what belongs to me.”

Her breath shook. “You’re not angry?”

“No.”

“You’re not upset I’m not her?”

A pause.

Then, “I would have burned this city if they had send Stella. Or make her life a living hell.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

Roman turned slightly and gestured to the document. “Sit.”

Eva hesitated.

He noticed. His voice softened. “Eva. You are safe.”

The word felt strange. Unsafe things did not become safe overnight.

Still, she lowered herself onto the chair.

Roman picked up one of the pens and placed it in her shaking hand. His fingers closed over hers, steadying her grip.

“Look at me,” he said.

She did.

“This ends today,” he said. “No more basements. No more guards. No more lies.”

Her voice cracked. “And if I say no?”

Roman held her gaze. “Then I will still take you away from them. Married or not.”

Her breath hitched.

“But I want you to say yes,” he added quietly. “Not because you’re scared. Because you choose me.”

Eva looked down at the paper. Her name. His name. Ink waiting.

Her other hand went to her stomach without thinking.

Life. Fear. Hope. All tangled together.

She looked back up at him. “If I sign this”

“You live,” Roman said. “You breathe. You belong nowhere near that house again.”

A tear fell onto the paper.

Eva nodded.

Roman leaned closer, his forehead almost touching hers.

“Sign,” he whispered.

And the room held its breath.