Chapter 1

"Go get married. Don't worry about me."

I stared at the words and suddenly wanted to laugh.

"'Don't worry about me'?" I said. "Then why did she ditch her guards and go to that nightclub, of all places?"

My father, Vito Moretti, frowned. "This isn't the time to get into that. She's in danger right now. Sofia's father died saving you. If anything happens to her, how would our family ever answer to her father?"

"Fine." I looked up at him.

The bells outside had already rung once. Every guest was here. Allied families from New York and New Jersey filled the church, and the priest was waiting too. Three years ago, I was supposed to have a wedding just like this one.

But the ambush at the docks before that wedding cut everything short. I was shot and spent three whole years in a coma. Sal took the last burst of gunfire meant for me and died on the spot. The daughter he left behind was Sofia.

It wasn't until I woke up that I learned she had moved into my family's home, the Moretti estate, while I was in the coma. My parents said it was because Sal had saved my life. Matteo said that when he lost me, he nearly fell apart, and Sofia was the one who stayed with him through it.

Everyone told me she was just the daughter of the man who saved my life, that all she had done was be there for them in my place through the worst three years of their lives.

Matteo came over, hugged me, and kissed my forehead. "Baby, I swear I'll be back soon."

The door closed.

The dressing room went quiet all at once. The warmth of that hug still hung in the air. Outside, I heard the priest ask the staff for the second time when the groom would get there.

Twelve minutes later, I walked into the church alone.

I was calling off the wedding.

More than 200 pairs of eyes landed on me at once. I stood at the very front, my white train stretching down the long aisle behind me. The whole thing felt like the most ridiculous show on earth.

"I'm sorry," I said, taking the microphone. "There's been a last-minute security incident. The ceremony is canceled."

Some people whispered. Others were already reaching for their phones. I knew that by tomorrow, everyone in our world would know that Matteo Rossi had failed to marry Elena Moretti for the second time.

The first time, it was because I almost died.

The second time, it was because another woman might die. I saw every guest out and went back to the dressing room to change out of my wedding dress. Three hours later, word came back.

Sofia had been rescued, with only minor injuries. I sat in the car for a long time. In the end, I asked the driver to turn around and take me to the private clinic anyway. I told myself her father was the man who saved my life.

She'd been trapped in enemy territory. My parents and Matteo hadn't been wrong to go get her. As long as I saw for myself that she was okay, this would be behind us.

The door to her room wasn't fully closed.

I had just reached the doorway when I saw my mother, Isabel Moretti, wrap her own shawl around Sofia's shoulders.

"Are you cold? The doctor said you have a mild concussion. Be a good girl and stay still."

At the other end of the hall, my father was telling his men, "From now on, double her guards. If anyone lets her run off alone and walk into danger again, none of you need to bother coming back."

I looked further into the room. Matteo was down on one knee beside the bed. Sofia's right hand was still shaking. He held her wrist and slowly wiped every trace of blood and gunpowder off her hand.

In that moment, I froze.

When I was 15, my father let me come along to the shooting range for the first time. The recoil left the web of my hand numb, and when I got home, I wouldn't let the staff touch my gun. So Matteo sat on the rug in my room, took the gun apart, and cleaned it piece by piece.

From then on, he did it for me after every training session. He once told me I was the only person he'd ever do that for. Now here he was, head bowed, wiping the gunpowder off another woman's hand.

Sofia saw me first, and she pulled her hand back a little.

"Elena..."

Matteo turned around. He hadn't had time to wipe the worry off his face. As I looked at them in that hospital room, a cruel truth hit me.

Those three years in a coma hadn't been a pause. Nobody in that room had stood still, waiting for me. They had spent three whole years living their lives together.

But now that I was awake, I was the one who felt like the outsider who had barged in.