1. I Do Not.

Yvaine's POV.

I stood at the altar, dressed in a white gown that felt more like a cage. I gripped the bouquet in my hands so tightly the stems threatened to snap. My eyes stayed locked on Xavier Volkov as we stood on the altar, the man who was supposed to become my husband in the next few minutes.

The glittering hall was filled with the most dangerous people in the mafia underworld. Two powerful families sat on opposite sides watching and smiling like wolves who had just agreed to share a kill.

The priest’s voice droned on.  

“Do you, Xavier Volkov, take Yvaine De Luca to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold…”

“I do.” Xavier’s voice was smooth as he slid the heavy ring onto my finger. The same man who minutes earlier in the private chamber, had looked me dead in the eye and said, “This marriage is nothing more than a business arrangement. Don’t expect love from me.”

The priest turned to me.

“Do you, Yvaine De Luca, take Xavier Volkov to be your lawfully wedded husband…”

Dark energy pressed against my skin from every direction. I could feel my father’s gaze burning into the side of my face.

This was the moment I was supposed to say yes. The moment I had been trained and threatened into accepting.

I lifted my chin.

“I do not.”

My voice came out calm and clearer than I expected.

Xavier’s sweet smile froze. “What?” he let out an awkward laugh, staring at me as though I had grown horns.

I pulled the microphone from the stand and turned to face the entire hall.

“I, Yvaine, refuse to take Xavier Volkov as my husband.”

I left out the surname De Luca on purpose. I hated that name and the man who forced it on me.

Murmurs exploded across the room.

Xavier stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

I raised the microphone and pressed it against his throat, stopping him from coming any nearer.

“Dead sure.”

I brought my hand to my mouth, pulled the ring off with my teeth, and spat it straight at his face.

“Yvaine!”

My father’s roar cut through the hall like a blade, causing the entire room to fall into dead silence.

I turned toward Nikolai De Luca. If looks could kill, I would already be on my way to hell. No, I do not deserve heaven, not after everything I had done these past three years since I entered his world.

Still, the twisted, furious expression on his face was deeply satisfying.

A small part of me trembled at the thought of what he would do for this public humiliation.

But he should have kept his promise.

Or better yet… he should never have found me in the first place.

I was done.

I dropped the microphone. The sharp sound echoed through the silent hall as I turned and walked down the aisle, white dress trailing behind me, my heart slamming hard against my ribs.

I didn’t look back, not even once.

It was high time I returned to where I belonged.

Three years earlier……………

The chirping of birds woke me up again. They always did. The little creatures had built their nests in the gaps of the old roof and were multiplying at an absurd rate. Grandma never chased them away.

A short distance from the house sat our small farm, where the two of us grew fruits and vegetables. Grandma had gifted hands that made the soil generous. I had a gifted mouth that could sell almost anything at the market. Together, we made a perfect pair.

I rose quickly from my thin mattress and glanced at the old photographs on the wall. One showed my mother as a teenager. Another captured her pregnant and smiling. The last one, she held a newborn Yvaine in her arms with grandma. Those pictures were the only way I knew my mother’s face. My mother had died before I could speak, taking the name of my father with her to the grave.

Every time I looked at those smiling photos, I felt the quiet message they carried.

Smile, dear child. Be happy.

I brushed my thumb gently over my mother’s face, then carried my toothbrush and a pail of water to the backyard.

Grandmother was already awake, as usual. The soft clatter of pots came from the separate kitchen building a short walk away. After washing, I went to find her.

“Grandma, I’m leaving now,” I said, reaching up to help pull a meal container from the high shelf.

She scooped streaming rice into the container, then took my hand to give it a warm squeeze. She brushed a few strands of hair from my face and smiled.

“Oh, my beautiful Yvaine?”

I chuckled. “You say that every day. It’s starting to sound like a lie.”

“Go look in the mirror. You are the most beautiful girl in the whole village.”

I smiled and nodded, gently pulling my hand free. “I have to go, Grandma.”

“Don’t stay out late!” She called after me.

The market was already alive when I arrived. Noise filled the air as traders called out to the early customers. A few of my regulars were already waiting at my stall. I pushed the wheelbarrow faster, greeted them with my usual cheer, and slipped extra produce into their bags as thanks for waiting.

Normally it took me eight hours, sometimes until nightfall, to sell everything. Today, I sold out in four hours.

A man in a fine dark suit had come to my stall. One glance told me he did not belong in our village. He was handsome, but there was something cold and watchful in his eyes. The market quieted around us as he stood there. I treated him the same as any other customer. Handsome or not, my heart still belonged to Alan, the village chief’s son, the shy boy who brought me flowers and walked me home under cute excuses.

The man bought every last item and told me to keep the change. Before leaving, he looked at me with the same cold gaze and said quietly, “You’ll see me again.”

I only smiled and nodded. After he left, I allowed myself a small dance of joy. My grandmother would be happy about the early sale.

Before heading home for another load, I stopped at the cosmetics stall and bought a little makeup with the extra profit. My grandmother always said I needed none of it, but tonight I wanted to look my best. Tonight I planned to tell Alan how I felt. He was too shy to say it first.

I could read him easily. The way he blushed when I looked at him too long. People said Alan was proud and hot tempered, but I had watched him dip a leaf in the river to rescue a spider.

When I reached home, two large black cars were parked outside.

No one in the village owned cars like these.

I left the wheelbarrow against the wall and stepped inside, calling, “Grandmother-”

The rest of the word died in my throat.

My grandmother sat hunched in one of the two chairs we owned, face tight with anger. A man occupied the other chair, the one that was usually mine. Two more men stood nearby. The man from the market stood beside the seated stranger, arms folded and expression unreadable.

My eyes moved from face to face before locking on the market man.

“I gave you a heads up, remember?” he said with a thin smile. He lifted a small device, a light flashing from it, and he brushed past me on his way out.

I hurried to my grandmother’s side and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“ Grandma, what’s going on?”

“Like I said,” the seated man spoke, voice low and calm. “I’m taking my daughter with me.”

Daughter?