CHAPTER 3

Dahlia’s POV

A tall man stood near the table, his back partly turned toward us. I didn’t need to see his face to know who he was. The air around him felt… heavy, powerful, like he was someone people didn’t dare to cross. Luca Romano.

My throat went dry the moment I recognized him. He turned slowly, and for a few seconds, I forgot how to breathe. He was—well, there wasn’t any other way to say it—dangerously attractive. The kind of man you’d think twice about staring at, because just one look could make you feel like you’d done something wrong.

His tuxedo was perfect, not a wrinkle in sight. The black fabric seemed to catch the candlelight in a way that made him look even more intimidating. His jawline was sharp—so sharp it honestly looked like it could cut glass. His midnight-black hair was slicked back neatly, not a strand out of place. And those eyes—stormy grey, cold and unreadable—locked on us the moment he turned. Or maybe just on me. I couldn’t tell.

My father immediately tensed beside me. I could hear his breathing change. Then he spoke, his voice trembling slightly, “Mr. Romano, forgive us for being late.”

Luca didn’t reply. He just stood there, silent, his eyes moving slowly from my father to my mother, then stopping on me. My heart thumped hard against my ribs, so loud I was sure everyone could hear it.

When I glanced at Mum, her face was pale. She looked horrified, like she wanted to be anywhere but here. Her hands clutched her shawl tightly, knuckles white.

Father nudged me lightly, his fingers shaking. “Say hello to Mr. Romano,” he whispered, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

My lips felt dry. I lowered my gaze to my shoes and tried to sound calm, though my voice came out soft and unsure. “H-hello, sir.”

I tried to mimic my sister’s tone—polite, confident—but it didn’t sound right. I sounded scared.

I heard slow, deliberate footsteps moving toward me. Each one made my chest tighten a little more. I didn’t dare look up until I saw his polished black shoes stop right in front of mine.

My whole body stiffened when I felt his fingers under my chin. They were cold, strong, forcing me to lift my head. My breath caught when my eyes met his.

Luca Romano was staring straight at me. His gaze was deep and unblinking, searching my face like he was trying to figure out what I was hiding. I tried my best not to look away, but it felt impossible. The room suddenly felt too small, the air too heavy.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Father shift nervously. His hand twitched at his side, and I heard him clear his throat softly, like he didn’t even mean to. He didn’t say a word though. He just stood there, stiff and silent, like even breathing too loudly might make things worse.

Mum’s breathing was uneven too. Her lips were moving quietly, whispering a prayer I couldn’t hear. She kept her eyes on the floor, and I noticed how pale she looked. For a moment, I thought she might faint, but she didn’t. She just stood there, holding herself together somehow.

The whole room felt heavy. Cold. No one moved or spoke. Luca’s fingers slipped away from my chin, and his eyes stayed on me for a moment—calm, but impossible to read. The silence dragged on and on, until it felt like time itself had stopped.

Then he spoke.

“This should never happen again.”

His voice was low and smooth, the kind that sent chills through you without even trying. He didn’t raise it, but every word felt sharp. Like a warning that didn’t need to be repeated.

He took a step back, slow and controlled, his gaze sweeping over all of us one last time. Then he turned and walked out. The sound of his shoes echoed on the floor, fading away until there was nothing left but silence.

For a few seconds, no one moved. It was like we were all afraid he’d come back. Then Father let out a long breath, his shoulders dropping as if someone had cut a rope off him. Mum finally looked up, her eyes shiny, her lips still trembling.

“He didn’t suspect a thing,” Father said. His voice was low, shaky, but there was relief in it. He even tried to smile, though it barely lasted a second.

I didn’t say anything. My heart was still racing, my hands cold and sweaty. I could still feel Luca’s touch on my chin, still hear his voice in my head.

Maybe Father was right—maybe Luca hadn’t suspected anything.

The church ceremony went by like a blur. I barely remembered the vows or the music or even the part where Luca slid the ring onto my finger. Everything felt distant, like I was watching someone else’s life happen right in front of me. My palms were sweating the whole time. I was scared he would notice something, that he’d see through the lie and put a bullet in our heads right there in front of everyone.

When it was finally over, I felt dizzy with relief. But it didn’t last long. The reception started almost immediately, and people were everywhere—smiling, laughing, taking pictures, clinking glasses. Guests flowed left and right, congratulating us like this was some fairytale love story.

Luca stood beside me, calm and unreadable as always. He shook hands, nodded, smiled just enough to be polite. I copied him, forcing myself to smile too, my cheeks already aching. Every second felt like a test. Every time someone said my name—Denise—my heart skipped a beat.

After a while, Luca excused himself and walked away to talk to a group of men in dark suits. The air around me finally loosened, and I could breathe again. I reached for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, my hand trembling just a little. I took a sip, the bubbles sharp on my tongue, and let out a shaky breath.

“Denise!” a voice called behind me.

I turned quickly and saw a young woman heading straight toward me, her face lighting up like she’d just found her long-lost sister. Before I could even react, she threw her arms around me in a tight hug.

I froze, my mind racing. I didn’t know her—but she clearly knew Denise.

“Congratulations!” she gushed, pulling back to look at me. “I still can’t believe you’re actually married! And to him of all people! You hit the jackpot, girl.”

I forced a small laugh, hoping it sounded natural. “Thank you for coming,” I said, my voice soft but steady.

She smiled, totally unaware of the panic twisting inside me. “So tell me,” she said, leaning closer like we were sharing a secret, “now that you’re Mrs. Romano, are you still going to come clubbing with us? Or are you officially too fancy for that?”

I didn’t even have to think about it. I already knew what Denise would say.

“Of course I’ll still come,” I said, forcing a brighter smile. “Why would I stop?”

She laughed, tossing her hair back, but then something changed. Her smile froze, then slowly faded. Her eyes shifted past me, and she straightened up fast, like she’d just been caught doing something wrong.

Before I could ask what was wrong, she mumbled something about seeing me later and hurried away.

That’s when I felt it—the heavy presence behind me.

I turned slowly and found Luca standing there. He was close. Too close. His expression was unreadable, calm but sharp, like a blade hidden in silk.

“Oh really,” he said, his tone soft but mocking.

My throat went dry.

Then he leaned in just slightly, his eyes fixed on mine. “Tell me,” he said quietly, “where is your sister?”

For a second, my whole body froze. My heart stuttered in my chest, my palms went cold, and every sound around me faded. Had he found out? Did he know I wasn’t Denise? My mouth opened, but no words came out. I couldn’t even breathe.

And then—clink.

The sharp sound of a glass tapping broke through the silence. A man’s voice rose above the chatter, cheerful and booming.

“To Luca Romano and his beautiful new wife! May their marriage be long and filled with happiness!”

Everyone turned toward him, waiting for the toast to end. I managed a shaky smile, ready to lift my glass, pretending everything was normal.

But before anyone could cheer, the first gunshot rang out.

Bang.