CHAPTER THREE: Walk Or Bury Your Mother

The morning of the wedding arrived quickly. For forty-eight hours, Raina had been a prisoner in her own bedroom, the four walls closing in on her until the air felt thin and toxic. She hadn't slept or eaten the bland meals the guards slid through the door. 

She felt exhausted, her body aching from the lack of movement, but the fire in her gut hadn't dimmed. It had only refined into a sharp edge of pure hatred.

She sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers white-knuckled as she gripped the small silver necklace around her neck. It was the only thing she had left of her mother, and the only thing her father hadn't been able to strip away. The cool metal was a reminder of a woman who was the exact opposite of the monsters downstairs.

The heavy thud of the deadbolt echoing through the room made her spine stiffen.

The door swung open, and Lorenzo stepped in, looking far too smug for a man who had his jaw nearly shattered two days ago.

 Behind him was a small army of stylists carrying garment bags and makeup kits. Trailing them like shadows were three of Michael’s elite guards, their hands resting on their belts as they fanned out to block any possible exit.

"Rise and shine, sister," Lorenzo sneered. His jaw was still slightly swollen, turning a nasty shade of yellow and green. "It’s your big day. Try not to look like you’re heading to the gallows, even if we all know you are."

Raina didn't move, she stared at him with eyes so hollow and cold they looked like glass. "Get out, Lorenzo, and take your circus with you."

"Not a chance," he laughed, gesturing for the stylists to set up. "We have a schedule to keep. The Retroferds don't like to be kept waiting, and neither does the Don."

One of the stylists, a thin woman who looked terrified to even be in the same room as a Valente, stepped forward tentatively. "Um, Miss Valente? Would you... would you like to take a quick shower before we begin? It might help you relax."

Raina opened her mouth to speak, but Lorenzo’s voice cut through the air like a whip from the doorway.

"She doesn't have time for a shower," Lorenzo barked, his eyes narrowing at the stylist. "Scrub her face, paint her up, and get her in the dress. She’s already late…Get her ready exactly as she is."

The stylists flinched and hurried to work. Raina sat like a stone statue as they pulled at her hair and smeared powders onto her skin. She didn't fight them, she didn't have the energy to waste on the help. She would rather save it all for the men standing guard.

For hours, they plucked, curled, and painted her face. When they finally pulled the wedding gown from the bag, Raina felt a surge of nausea. It was a massive, lace-heavy monstrosity that looked more like a cage than a garment. They forced her into it, tugging at the corset, but as they stepped back, the stylist’s face fell.

"It’s... it’s a bit big," the woman whispered.

The dress was slightly oversized, the heavy lace falling off Raina’s shoulders, making her look smaller and more fragile than she actually was. To Raina, it felt like wearing the skin of a dead woman.

The door opened again, and Don Michael Valente walked in. He looked impeccable in his tuxedo, the embodiment of a man who had never felt a moment of guilt in his life. The stylists scrambled out of his way, bowing their heads.

Raina stood up, the heavy fabric of the dress rustling around her feet. She looked at her father in the mirror, her reflection a pale, ghost-like version of the girl who had been hitting the heavy bag just two days ago. She decided to try to change his mind one last time…She had to.

"You really think this is what she would want?" Raina asked, her voice hoarse from restrained emotions.

Michael stopped in the center of the room, his face a mask of blank indifference. "Who?"

"Mother," Raina snapped, her voice gaining strength. "She wouldn’t be happy with what you’re doing to me. You’re selling her only daughter to the family that tried to kill her. If she ever wakes up, Michael, she will never forgive you for this and she’ll hate you even more than I do."

Michael didn't blink or flinch. He just kept staring at her with those dead black eyes. His lack of reaction sent a jolt of lightning through Raina’s veins. She stepped toward him, the oversized dress slipping further down her shoulders.

"Do you have any remorse at all?" she yelled, her voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Does it even cross your mind that she is in that hospital bed, in a coma, because she took a bullet that was meant for you? She saved your life, and this is how you repay her? By ruining her child's life?"

The room went silent. Even the guards looked away, uncomfortable with the raw truth hanging in the air.

Michael finally spoke. His voice was chilling, devoid of any warmth or humanity. It was the sound of a man who had long ago traded his soul for power.

"I never asked her to be a martyr, Raina," Michael said, his tone as casual as if he was discussing the weather. "She was foolish to jump in front of that gun. She made a choice, and now she's a vegetable because of it."

Raina gasped, the air leaving her lungs as if he had punched her in the gut. "A vegetable? She’s your wife!"

"She is a body in a bed," Michael corrected her, stepping closer until he was inches from her face. "And her continued existence depends entirely on my generosity. Those machines are expensive, Raina. The doctors, the private suite, the round-the-clock care... it costs a fortune."

He leaned in, his breath smelling of expensive cigar. "So, let’s be very clear about the stakes today. Do you want her to stay a breathing vegetable? Or should I pull the plug and end her miserable life this afternoon? Because I can call the hospital right now and tell them to stop the treatment. It would be so much easier for everyone."

Raina’s heart shattered. She looked at Lorenzo, hoping to see some spark of horror on his face, but her brother was busy checking his gold watch.

"Oh, for God's sake, Raina, let’s go," Lorenzo said, completely ignoring the conversation about his mother’s life. "The Retroferds just messaged and they’re already at the venue. Think about the shipping routes, Dad. Think about the ports we’ll control by tonight. Once this deal is inked, the Valente name will be untouchable…We’ll be billionaires within the year."

To them, Raina wasn't a daughter or a sister, she wasn't even a human being. She was a ticket to a larger bank account, a pawn to be moved across a board of blood and greed.

Raina felt a single tear escape, but she wiped it away before it could ruin the makeup. She wouldn't let them see her cry..not anymore. She turned back to the mirror, staring at the woman in the oversized white dress.

She caught her father’s eye in the reflection. He was standing behind her, looking at her with a chilling, satisfied smile.

"You’re already dead to me," Raina whispered, her voice thick with a very deep hatred. "Both of you. From this moment on, I don't have a father, and I don't have a brother. I hope you choke on the money you get from selling me."

Michael didn't lose his smile. Instead, he reached out and picked up the bouquet of white lilies from the vanity, holding them out to her…The flowers looked more like funeral lilies and Raina stared at them in disgust.

"Keep your drama for the altar, Raina," Michael said, his voice hard and emotionless. He shoved the bouquet into her hands, his fingers digging into her palms.

"Now, you’re going to walk down that aisle. You’re going to smile, say your vows, and save this family’s legacy."

He leaned down, whispering the final threat directly into her ear, his voice sounding like a low and terrifying growl.

"Just walk, Raina. Walk or bury your mother."

Raina gripped the bouquet so hard the stems snapped in her hand. She looked at the door, then back at the monster beside her. She had no choice…She had to save the only person who had ever loved her.

The guards stepped aside, opening the door to her room for the last time. Raina took a step forward, the heavy lace dragging on the floor, her heart turning to stone with every inch she moved.