Page 20 of Twisted Vows

Maybe the tightness of the dress is cutting off oxygen to my brain because I know it can’t be possible. “You think I’m strong?”

“Stronger than you know. But you’ll need every ounce of it where you’re going. You will also need to be ruthless.” She smooths out an invisible wrinkle in her dress. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t always like this.”

I grab the half-full glass of champagne and empty it. This is a side I’ve never seen of the great Donatella Bianchi. It’s unsettling, like watching a statue crack and crumble before my eyes. “What happened to you?”

Ma looks away, her gaze fixed on the floor as if the answers lie in the patterns of marble. “I fell in love once. I thought love could protect me from this life, from the choices I had to make. But I was wrong. Love makes you weak, Arianna. It blinds you. I couldn’t afford to be weak. Not when everything depended on me being strong. So, I let it go and buried it deep, becoming what I needed to be.”

Is it possible she wasn’t always the cold, calculating woman I’ve known? Was there something softer crushed under the weight of duty and sacrifice? “I’m not you, Ma. I won’t let this life destroy me.”

Her gaze hardens, and the vulnerability vanishes as quickly as it appeared. “I hope you’re right. But remember this—if you want to survive, you can’t afford to let anyone in. Protect yourself, Arianna. Because no one else will.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and final. For a moment, I want to argue, to push back against her bleak view of the world. But for what? Her mind is set, and nothing I say will change it.

As she turns to leave, I feel a surge of conflicting emotions—anger, sorrow, and a flicker of something I haven’t felt in a long time: empathy. I’ve never considered that my mother suffered when she made the same sacrifices I’m about to make.

The door creaks open, and I don’t need to look up to know it’s Enzo. His presence is like a warm, steadying hand on my shoulder, something I’ve always been able to count on. But today, the warmth is tinged with something else—sadness, maybe, or regret.

“Sis, it’s time,” he says, his voice soft but firm. He’s dressed in a tailored suit, sharp as ever, but it’s his eyes that catch my attention. They’re not the hard, calculating eyes of a made man. They’re the eyes of the brother who used to sneak me out of trouble, who taught me how to throw a punch and keep my chin up, no matter what.

I force a smile, though it doesn’t reach my eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be the one dragging me to my own execution,” I say, trying to keep my tone light, but it comes out flat, almost bitter.

Enzo steps closer, his expression softening. “It doesn’t have to be like that.” He places a hand on my shoulder, a rare show of affection between us. “You’re stronger than all of us. Don’t forget that.”

For a fleeting second, I want to collapse into his arms, to let the weight of this day crush me just so I don’t have to carry it alone.

But I don’t. Swallowing hard, I push down the lump in my throat. “You make it sound easy,” I say, trying to sound flippant, but my voice wavers. “Even though it’s not.”

Enzo’s eyes darken. “You’ve never taken the easy way out before, and I know you won’t start now.”

He pulls me in for a brief, tight hug, something we haven’t done in years. “Just... be careful,” he says softly, but there’s something behind his words—something he’s not telling me.

“You don’t trust him?”

Enzo’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t answer right away, and for a second, I think he’s going to brush it off. But then he rubs the back of his neck, a sure sign that he’s about to deliver a hard truth. “It’s not just him. There are …people. Things in motion. Just…watch your back. Not everyone is as loyal as they pretend to be.”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, but before I can press him for more, he glances toward the doors and offers me a tight smile.

“It’s time to go,” he says, his voice back to its usual controlled tone, the moment of vulnerability gone.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself as I follow him out. The conversation with Ma lingers in my mind, but Enzo’s words are the ones that unsettle me.

I catch my reflection in the mirror, the veil framing my face like some tragic painting of a girl about to be led to the gallows. The reflection stares back, perfect and poised.

For a second— just a heartbeat—I consider running. The doors are right there. I could vanish.

But the fantasy is fleeting. Running wouldn’t solve anything. And I’m not a coward.

Enzo glances back at me, a small, reassuring smile on his lips. “You ready?”

I nod, more for his sake than mine. “Yeah,” I say, my voice firmer than before. “Let’s do this.”

My brother offers his arm, and I take it, ignoring the cold sweat trickling down my back. The grand hallway feels like it’s closing in on me with each step I take. I feel the eyes of our ancestors in the portraits lining the walls. “I think our relatives are judging me.”

“They’re probably just jealous you’re the prettiest bride this family has ever had.”

“Or they’re thinking I’m the next sacrificial lamb.”

The door leading to the patio sits slightly ajar and I’m able to see Maxsim standing beneath the archway. Tall and composed, he is a formidable figure in a perfectly tailored tuxedo.

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