The Family Gala

MARLOWE'S POV

The dress was blood red. Fitting, I thought. Tonight was going to be a bloodbath.

I stood in front of the mirror in my childhood bedroom, adjusting the straps of the gown my mother had left on my bed. It was beautiful. Expensive. The kind of dress a woman wore when she was being sold to the highest bidder.

I wasn't going to be sold.

Not anymore.

My phone buzzed. A text from Elowen.

"Are you sure about this?"

I typed back quickly. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"What did your father say when you told him?"

"He doesn't know yet. That's the point."

She sent back a string of exclamation marks. Then, "Marlowe. This is going to blow up in your face."

"Maybe. But at least it'll be my explosion."

I pocketed my phone and grabbed the marriage certificate from my nightstand. It was folded neatly, tucked inside a small clutch purse. My secret weapon. My freedom.

The gala was in full swing when I walked down the stairs. The Whitmore mansion was packed with people. Politicians. Businessmen. Socialites. Everyone who was anyone in the city. They were all here to celebrate my engagement to a man I'd never met.

I walked through the crowd, my heels clicking against the marble floor. People turned to look at me. Some smiled. Some whispered. I ignored them all.

I was looking for my father.

I found him near the grand staircase, talking to a group of men in expensive suits. He was laughing at something. Loud. Obnoxious. Playing the part of the proud father.

He didn't see me coming.

"Father," I said, loud enough to make the group turn. "I need to speak with you."

Everett's smile faltered. Just for a second. Then it was back, wider than before.

"Marlowe, darling. We're in the middle of something."

"This won't take long." I held up my clutch. "I have something to show you."

One of the men, a senator I recognized from the news, raised an eyebrow. "A surprise for your father? How sweet."

"Very sweet," I said. "You might want to stick around for this."

Everett's eyes narrowed. He didn't like the tone of my voice. He could sense something was wrong. But he was too proud to back down in front of his guests.

"Fine," he said, through gritted teeth. "What is it?"

I opened my clutch and pulled out the certificate. Held it up so everyone could see.

"I'm married."

The room went quiet. The kind of quiet that made your ears ring.

Everett's face went pale. Then red. Then pale again.

"What did you just say?"

"I said I'm married." I smiled. Bright. Innocent. Dangerous. "To a wonderful man. We tied the knot last night. I know it's a little sudden, but when you know, you know."

"You're lying."

"I have the paperwork to prove it." I waved the certificate. "Signed. Sealed. Delivered. I'm Mrs. Marlowe Grant now. So sorry to disappoint everyone, but the engagement to the Bellandi family is off."

The senator's jaw dropped. The other men exchanged glances. Somewhere behind me, I heard someone gasp.

My father took a step forward. His hands were shaking. His face was twisted with rage.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I've saved myself." I tucked the certificate back into my clutch. "That's what I've done."

"You stupid, selfish girl." His voice was low. Dangerous. "You have no idea what you've cost us. What you've cost me."

"Good." I met his eyes. Didn't flinch. "Maybe now you'll understand what it feels like to lose something you care about."

He raised his hand. For a second, I thought he was going to hit me. In front of everyone. In front of the senator and the businessmen and the socialites.

But he didn't.

Because the doors to the grand hall opened.

And the room went even quieter.

I turned around. So did everyone else.

A man was walking through the crowd. He was tall. Dark hair. Wearing a black suit that fit him like it had been made for him. And it probably had been.

He was flanked by security. Men with earpieces and eyes that scanned the room like they were looking for threats. The guests parted for him like water. Some bowed their heads. Others stepped back. No one spoke.

My heart stopped.

I knew that face.

I had seen it last night. In a dimly lit bar. In a courthouse. In a hotel room where I had woken up alone.

It was him.

Edward.

Or whatever his name was.

He walked toward us. Slow. Deliberate. Every step echoed in the silent room. When he reached my father, he stopped.

Everett's face was gray. His hands were trembling. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Godfather Bellandi." His voice cracked. "Welcome to our home."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

Godfather Bellandi.

Bellandi.

Dashiell Bellandi.

No. No, no, no.

The certificate slipped from my fingers. Fluttered to the floor. The room spun around me.

The man from the bar. The man I married. The man I thought would save me.

He was the monster I was trying to escape.

"Ah." Dashiell's voice was smooth. Calm. Amused. "Mr. Whitmore. I believe you have something that belongs to me."

My father's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No sound came out.

Dashiell turned to me. His eyes were dark. Unreadable. But there was something in them. Something that looked like triumph.

"Hello, wife," he said.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move.

"You look surprised." He stepped closer. "Didn't you read the fine print?"

"You lied to me." My voice was barely a whisper. "You told me your name was Grant."

"I told you my name was Dashiell." He tilted his head. "You assumed the rest."

"You let me think you were someone else!"

"I let you think whatever you wanted to think. It wasn't my job to correct you."

"You tricked me." My hands were shaking. "You knew who I was. You knew what my father was planning. You knew everything."

"I did."

"Why?"

He leaned in. Close enough that only I could hear.

"Because you were mine from the moment your father signed the contract. The bar was just a formality."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to run.

But I couldn't.

Because he was right.

I had walked right into his trap. I had married the exact man I was trying to escape. I had played right into his hands.

And now there was no way out.

"Well." Dashiell straightened. Looked around the room. Raised his voice so everyone could hear. "It seems there's been a change of plans. The engagement is off. But the wedding is still on. My wife and I were married last night in a private ceremony. We'll be hosting a reception next week to celebrate."

The room erupted in whispers. People were staring at me. Pointing. Laughing. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to die.

My father was still standing there, his face pale, his hands shaking. He looked like a man who had just watched his entire world collapse.

"Bellandi," he started. "Please. We can fix this. We can—"

"Don't." Dashiell's voice was ice. "You had your chance. You tried to play games. You lost."

He turned to me. Held out his hand.

"Come, wife. We're leaving."

I stared at his hand. The hand of the man who had tricked me. The man who had trapped me. The man who had made me think I was free when I was more caged than ever.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"You don't have a choice." His eyes were cold. "You signed the papers. You said the vows. You're mine now."

"I'll get an annulment."

"You can try." He leaned in again. "But you should know. I have lawyers. The best in the country. And they're very good at making sure things don't happen. Especially things I don't want to happen."

"You can't keep me here forever."

"No. But I can keep you long enough." He straightened. "Now. We're leaving. And you're coming with me. Whether you like it or not."

I looked around the room. At my father, who was still pale and shaking. At the guests, who were watching me with a mixture of pity and amusement. At the security guards, who had closed in around us.

I was trapped.

I had walked into the lion's den thinking I was the hunter. But I was the prey. I had always been the prey.

"Fine," I said, my voice hollow. "Let's go."

I took his hand. It was warm. Strong. It felt like a cage closing around me.

He led me through the crowd. People stepped back. No one spoke. The silence was deafening.

As we passed my mother, I saw her face. She wasn't angry. She wasn't surprised.

She was terrified.

And that's when I knew. Whatever was happening, whatever game my father had been playing, my mother had known all along. She had known about the contract. About the trap. About everything.

And she had said nothing.

We walked out of the mansion together. Dashiell's car was waiting at the curb. The same black car from last night. The same driver.

He opened the door for me. Gestured for me to get in.

"After you, wife."

I climbed in. The door closed behind me. The locks clicked.

I was trapped.

I was married.

I was Mrs. Dashiell Bellandi.

And I had no idea how I was going to survive.

The car pulled away from the curb. The mansion faded behind us. I stared out the window, my hands clenched in my lap, my heart pounding in my chest.

"You're going to regret this," I said.

Dashiell turned to look at me. His face was calm. Unreadable.

"Maybe," he said. "But so are you."

He reached over and took my hand. I tried to pull away, but he held tight.

"Welcome to the family, Marlowe."

I stared at him. At his dark eyes. At his calm face. At the man who had ruined my life in a single night.

"I hate you," I whispered.

He smiled. A real smile. Small. Almost hidden. But real.

"I know," he said. "You will."

The car drove into the night. The city lights blurred past. And I sat there, holding the hand of the devil, wondering how I had fallen so far so fast.

I had thought I was winning.

I had thought I was free.

I had thought wrong.