Chapter 7. The Wedding

* Miranda *

I tried to stop the time by delaying everything as much

as I could but Salvatore De Luca is someone who have many people working for him. Even the fittings and my bridal gown were done in just two days.

The ceremony unfolded carved with legacy and intention. Rows of guests rose as I walked down the aisle, my dress whispering against the floor, ivory silk and hand-embroidered lace, old-world and deliberate. Maybe for some women awedding is such a wonderful and joyous occasion but to me it's like the end of my life is being finalize.

My father, Emmanuel, stood at the front, waiting for me with eyes too bright to hide the emotion he refused to show. While my sister Yolly is with the audience, she knows how I feel but there is no time to stop me.

Dad took my hands when I reached him, squeezing once, grounding me more than he knew.

"You are radiant," he murmured. "Your mother would have been proud, Miranda."

I swallowed, nodded, and kissed his cheek even when I felt like scolding him because this is all his fault. But the fact is, he is still my father and I couldn't turn my back on him. I let go of his hand and turned toward Salvatore.

He looked, formidable. Immaculate in black, tailored to perfection, power resting on him as naturally as breath. When he took my hands, his grip was warm, certain. Whatever storms existed in his world, the old man stood unshaken.

The vows were spoken clearly, deliberately. Promises of loyalty, protection, unity, and not flowery. This was not a fairytale marriage like the others. This is me repaying for my father's debt.

When he said my name Miranda, there was something real in his voice. When I said his, my voice almost trembled. A loud applause thundered through the hall as we were pronounced husband and wife.

Salvatore kissed me on the forehead not for show, not for the crowd, but brief, controlled, just enough to make a statement that I was his. Publicly and permanently. The back of my neck burn from the eyes of someone who had been staring at me throughout the ceremony. But I managed to ignore it.

The reception that followed was nothing short of grand. Music filled the vast ballroom as servers moved in perfect choreography, crystal glasses chiming softly. Old money mingled with newer power, alliances measured in smiles and handshakes.

My father remained close for a while, introducing me, introducing us, to those who mattered for the De Lucas. Dad carried himself with quiet dignity, pride evident in the way his hand rested at my back when he spoke of me. He was genuinely happy, perhaps it is because his debt has been cleared out.

"My daughter," he said more than once. "A woman of discernment.

When my sister managed to get a hold of me, she embraced me tightly, whispering blessings in my ear, her eyes shining.

"Just try and be happy Miranda, the old man is generous towards you. At least you would never run out of money or have to go to work anymore."

My smile was bitter. "Thank you Yolly and you focus on your studies, don't worry about me. I'll be just fine."

After I said that I caught the eyes of Lorenzo. And all of a sudden I asked my self I would really be alright? His eyes is full of masked resentment, I can feel it loud and clear.

I saw him across the room first, standing beside Salvatore's inner circle as if nothing in the world had ever unsettled him. His tuxedo jacket was back on, his posture relaxed, a glass of whiskey hanging loose in his hand.

Beside him stood a younger man, same dark hair, same sharp features, but lighter somehow. His curious eyes taking everything in.

"Marcial De Luca," Salvatore said when he noticed my attention. "My youngest son who flew in from Brazil."

He smiled warmly when introduced, bowing his head just slightly. "It's an honor to finally meet you, Miranda. I've heard, many things from Dad."

"Only good ones, I hope," I replied politely.

He laughed. "Of course. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."

Lorenzo's gaze met mine then, his mouth twisted upward. We did not acknowledge the incident in the parking lot. Not with words. Not with expressions. But something unspoken settled between us, an awareness sharpened, not dulled, by proximity.

Then a beautiful woman walked towards us. She moved through the room with ease, older than me by a handful of years I could tell, her confidence woven into every step. She was beautiful in a way that did not ask permission, dark hair swept back, emerald silk hugging her figure, eyes knowing and calm.

When she greeted Salvatore, she kissed his cheek familiarly.

"You clean up well, cugino," she said, smiling. "Congratulations on your wedding."

"Laura," he replied warmly. "I'm glad you came."

She turned to me then, studying me openly, not unkindly. "So this is the woman who finally anchored him."

I met her gaze evenly. "Nice to meet you, just call me Miranda."

Her smile widened, approving. "And you can call me Laura, I think we'll get along just fine."

She lingered near Salvatore for much of the evening, close, trusted, clearly part of his world long before I entered it. I noted the way Lorenzo watched her too, guarded and distant, as if whatever history lay there was complicated.

Everything in this family was. But it really doesn't matter anymore.

When the night drew on, the music softened, laughter rose, and the dance floor filled, Salvatore pulled me into his arms for our first dance. I fought the urge to push him and run.

The world narrowed to the slow sway, the warmth of his hand at my waist, the weight of the ring on my finger.

"You did beautifully tonight," he murmured.

"Thank you," I replied.

From the corner of my vision, I caught Lorenzo watching us. His expression unreadable. But with calculation. The silent war I had felt before did not vanish.

It merely changed its battlefield. And as the applause rose again, as glasses lifted in our honor, I understood one undeniable truth with perfect clarity. I was now a De Luca by marriage.

And nothing in this family, least of all Lorenzo, would ever be simple again.

The first dance was finish and I was about to go back on our seat with the old man when a voice stopped us.

"May I have this dance with my stepmother, Dad?"

I gasped out loud but the music has made it unrecognisable. There was sarcasm in his voice but Salvatore did not seem to bother as he smiled.

"Please do son, I needed to have a chat with Laura. Take Miranda and enjoy the music."

He did not even look back at me when he wave his hand to the woman and hurriedly walked towards her.

I did not want to look up or meet Lorenzo's eyes but it was a mistake because he hold my chin upward to make me face him.

"You heard my father, let us enjoy the music."

His hand is warm when he swept me away holding my waist. I can't even struggle free of his hold, his strength overpowering whatever energy I have left for the day.