Chapter 6: The Wedding Ring

The door closed behind Lucien, leaving me alone in the room with a hundred questions and not a single useful answer.

I stood beside the balcony doors, still wearing the wedding dress that had belonged to my sister, staring at the faint reflection in the glass. The woman looking back at me was supposed to be Sophia. She had her ring, her dress, her place in this house and, according to everyone downstairs, her husband.

But Lucien knew.

He had known before I reached the altar.

That should have been the first thing I dealt with.

Instead, one question kept pushing its way through everything else.

Why had he allowed it?

I lifted my left hand and examined the ring properly for the first time.

It was simple compared with the rest of the Moretti wealth. A large diamond sat in the center, surrounded by smaller stones, with a narrow band that looked almost ordinary beneath the expensive setting. There was something engraved inside the band, but the writing was too small to make out beneath the room's dim lighting.

I moved toward the bedside lamp and switched it on.

There.

Letters.

I tilted the ring until the light caught the metal.

L.M.

Lucien Moretti.

Of course.

I turned the ring around my finger, considering whether I could remove it.

It would not move.

I tried again.

Nothing.

"Having trouble?"

I spun around.

Lucien was standing in the doorway.

I had not heard him return.

He had removed his jacket and loosened his tie, but there was nothing relaxed about him. He stood with one hand resting against the doorframe, watching me examine the ring as if he had expected me to try removing it the moment he left.

"You walk very quietly."

"So do you."

"I was here first."

"That does not make it your room."

"It is my room."

He stepped inside.

I lifted my hand. "This is stuck."

"I know."

"You knew?"

"Yes."

"Then why did you give me a ring that cannot come off?"

"I did not."

I stared at him.

"What?"

"The ring was made for Sophia."

I glanced at it again.

"Then why does it fit me?"

Lucien stopped a few feet away.

"Because the ring was never the reason I gave it to you."

I lowered my hand.

"That sentence makes no sense."

"It will."

"Eventually?"

"Eventually."

I hated that word.

Everything with Lucien seemed to come with a promise that made me want answers immediately and gave me absolutely none.

I walked toward the dressing table and picked up a small jewelry box.

"Where is Sophia's ring?"

"That is Sophia's ring."

"No."

I turned around.

He waited.

"The woman you were supposed to marry had a different ring."

His face remained calm.

"I know."

"You bought another one?"

"No."

"Then whose is this?"

"Yours."

The answer was so unexpected that I stared at him.

"Mine?"

"It was made for you."

I glanced at the ring again.

"When?"

"Years ago."

The room became very quiet.

I lowered the jewelry box onto the table.

"You are telling me this ring was made for me before today's wedding?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I already told you."

"You saw me fight."

"That was when I first noticed you."

"And you ordered a wedding ring for me?"

"No."

I waited.

Lucien walked closer, stopping beside the dressing table. His attention settled on the ring rather than my face.

"I ordered it years later."

"How many?"

"Four.

I stared at him.

Four years.

He had known me for four years.

He had remembered me for four years.

And somehow, he had been carrying around a ring meant for a woman who had never known he existed.

My mind immediately began connecting possibilities.

Four years ago, I was nineteen.

Sophia had been nineteen.

Lucien had already been one of the most feared men in the city.

What could he possibly have wanted from me then?

"Did you know my name?"

"Yes."

"Did you know I was Sophia's twin?"

"Yes."

"Did you know my family?"

"Yes."

"Did you know I was investigating people?"

His silence lasted half a second too long.

That was enough.

"You knew."

"I suspected."

"You knew."

"I knew."

I walked away from him and began pacing slowly across the room, the skirt of the wedding gown brushing against my ankles. My mind was moving too quickly now. Every strange detail from the past few days suddenly felt connected to something I had not yet discovered.

Sophia disappearing.

My father forcing me into her place.

The warning hidden inside the dress.

Lucien recognizing me.

The ring.

Four years.

There was a story underneath all of this.

And I was standing directly in the middle of it.

"Why did Sophia agree to marry you?"

Lucien did not answer immediately.

"That is something you should ask her."

"She is missing."

"I know."

"Then help me find her."

"I am trying."

I stopped pacing.

"You?"

"Yes."

"You want to find your missing bride?"

"No."

The answer came without hesitation.

"I want to find out who took her."

"You think she was taken?"

"I think Sophia left because she believed someone was watching her."

That caught my attention.

"You knew she was afraid."

"Yes."

"Then why did you allow the wedding preparations to continue?"

"Because stopping them would have told whoever was watching her that I knew."

I moved closer.

"Who was watching her?"

"I do not know."

"But you have a suspicion."

"I have several."

"Vittorio?"

His eyes changed for a moment.

It was not much, but I noticed.

"Why did you mention him?"

"Because men like him do not attend a wedding simply to exchange congratulations."

"You noticed him."

"I notice everyone."

"Apparently."

Lucien reached into his trouser pocket and removed his phone.

He looked at the screen before putting it away again.

"Someone has been trying to find out what Sophia discovered."

"What did she discover?"

"I do not know."

"Then what do you know?"

"She was asking questions about my father's old business."

"My father?"

"Your father."

The distinction made my chest feel heavy.

"What does Dimitri have to do with your father?"

"That is what I am trying to find out."

I remembered the documents I had seen during my own investigations. Names. Companies. Payments. Old partnerships that had never appeared in the official records.

My father had always told us the Morettis were dangerous.

He had never explained why.

Maybe he had never intended to.

"Did Sophia know?"

"She knew enough to become frightened."

"And that was why she ran?"

"Maybe."

"That is not good enough."

"No."

He walked toward the door.

I followed him.

"Where are you going?"

"To sleep."

"You expect me to sleep after telling me all of this?"

"You need rest."

"I need answers."

"You will get them."

"When?"

"When I know which answers will keep you alive."

I folded my arms.

"You keep talking as if someone is going to kill me."

"Someone may try."

The casual way he said it made the statement more disturbing.

I stepped closer.

"Because I am Sophia's replacement?"

"No."

"Then why?"

Lucien looked at me for several seconds.

"Because you are now carrying something that belongs to my family."

My eyes dropped to the ring.

"The ring?"

He did not answer.

"Lucien."

He opened the door.

"Keep it on."

"Why?"

"Because if anyone sees that ring on your hand, they will know who you belong to."

"I do not belong to anyone."

He paused.

"No."

His voice became quieter.

"You do not."

Then he left.

I stood there long after his footsteps disappeared down the hallway.

The ring remained on my finger.

I tried removing it once more.

This time, I stopped when I noticed something I had missed earlier.

There was a tiny mark beneath the engraving.

Not part of the initials.

A symbol.

A small black diamond crossed by a single line.

I had seen it before.

In one of Sophia's notebooks.

I pulled open the drawer beside the bed and searched through the small collection of stationery someone had placed there. Nothing.

I checked the bedside table.

Nothing.

Then I remembered the note hidden inside the wedding dress.

Watch the Morettis.

I reached for the dress hanging over the back of the chair.

My fingers found the inside seam where I had discovered the first message.

There was another pocket.

Hidden much more carefully.

I opened it.

Inside was a folded piece of paper.

No name.

Only one sentence.

If Lucien gives you the ring, do not trust what it opens.