Page 47 of His Bride

Adriana

The gravel crunches under the tires as Enzo pulls up to my parents’ sprawling vacation home. My stomach twists. I’m not ready for this.

“We’re here, Mrs. Rossi,” Enzo says, his gruff voice oddly gentle.

I nod, unable to speak. I exit the car. The tension coils tighter in my chest with each step toward the house. Music and laughter spill out onto the manicured lawn. How can they act so normal when everything’s falling apart?

Inside, the party’s in full swing. Crystal glasses clink. Champagne flows. But beneath the festive veneer, I sense an undercurrent of unease. Or maybe that’s just me projecting.

I scan the room for my father, dreading our inevitable encounter. How can I face him after learning what he’s done? The betrayal cuts deep, reopening old wounds I thought had healed.

“Adriana! There you are!”

I plaster on a smile as Valentina rushes over, enveloping me in a perfumed hug. “Val, it’s so good to see you.”

She pulls back, dark eyes sparkling. “Where’s that handsome husband of yours? Don’t tell me he’s working on your mother’s birthday!”

My throat tightens. I hate lying to her. “Unfortunately, yes. An urgent business matter came up at the last minute.” The words taste bitter on my tongue.

Valentina’s brow furrows. “Oh, what a shame. I was looking forward to seeing you two lovebirds together.”

If only she knew the truth. I force a laugh. “You know how it is with Dante. The business always comes first.”

“Well, his loss is my gain. Now I get you all to myself!” She links her arm through mine. “Come on, let’s get a drink. You look like you could use one.”

As we weave through the crowd, I catch sight of my father across the room. Our eyes meet for a brief moment before he turns away. The weight of unspoken words hangs heavy between us.

I down a flute of champagne, trying to quell the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. How long can I keep up this charade? One thing’s certain - this birthday celebration is just the calm before the storm.

I sip my champagne, the bubbles dancing on my tongue as I scan the room. The beautiful vacation home feels less welcoming tonight, its grandeur quite different to the undercurrent of apprehension I am feeling.

Dante’s absence looms large in my mind. His earlier words echo: “It’s better if I don’t attend, Adriana. My presence would only complicate things.”

I understood his reasoning, but part of me still wishes he were here. His steady presence would be a comfort amidst this sea of false smiles and veiled threats.

My mother’s laugh rings out, too high-pitched to be genuine. She stands beside my father, her hand resting on his arm in a picture-perfect pose. But I see the strain in her eyes, the slight tremor in her fingers as she lifts her glass.

“Your parents seem… off tonight,” Valentina remarks, following my gaze. “Is everything okay?”

I swallow hard. “Just the usual family drama,” I lie smoothly. If only she knew the half of it.

The walls feel like they’re closing in, the weight of secrets and lies pressing down on me.

“I need some air,” I mutter, setting down my empty flute. As I slip away from Valentina, I can’t help but wonder: how long before this carefully constructed façade comes crashing down around us all?

I’m halfway to the terrace when the first shot rings out.

The sound slices through the air, shattering glasses and conversations alike. For a heartbeat, everything freezes – a grotesque tableau of shocked faces and raised hands.

Then chaos erupts.

Screams fill the room, a cacophony of terror drowning out the frantic pounding of my heart. Bodies surge around me, a panicked tide of silk and perfume. I stumble, nearly falling as someone shoves past.

More gunshots. The acrid smell of gunpowder mixes with spilled wine.

“Get down!” a voice bellows.

My mind unhelpfully supplies vivid images of blood spray and bullet holes. I force them away, survival instinct kicking in.

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