Page 114 of Isaia

Anthony waits at the altar, his expression soft, his eyes filled with a kindness I don’t deserve, and I feel the full force of my lies. It’s a relentless storm, each beating of my heart another lightning strike scorching my veins.

I yearn to feel the old comforting beat, but it's now replaced by this alien rhythm—a graveyard's rhythm, slow, somber, and dreadfully final.

As we reach the altar, Anthony shakes Michele’s hand, then turns and takes mine, smiling softly as if to say, “It’s okay.” And I’m sure I see something flicker in his eyes—happiness? Affection?

His gentleness breaks me further, and I feel like I’m floating, detached from my body, watching the scene unfold as though it’s happening to someone else.

My hand trembles in Anthony’s as we stand at the altar, the weight of hundreds of eyes pressing down on me like lead. My chest tightens as the priest glances between us, his expression serene, oblivious to lies. To the act.

“We are gathered here today,” the priest begins, “to witness the union of Anthony Paladino and Everly Rinaldi?—”

I look at Michele, shocked. The bastard actually did it, replaced my surname with his. An imprint of his cruel name on my identity. I see the malicious twist of his mouth, the satisfaction that swells in his eyes. He’s relishing every moment, ensuring the world knows this wedding means an alliance.

A Rinaldi-Paladino alliance.

“…in holy matrimony,” the sound of the priest’s words penetrates my thought, “a bond that represents commitment, love, and trust.”

Love and trust.The words hit me like a sledgehammer, and I force myself to keep standing, to keep holding Anthony’s hands—which somehow feels wrong. This is all wrong. This is nothingbutwrong.

I glance at him, his expression calm but watchful, his eyes flicking over my face like he’s searching for something. A sign of hesitation. A flicker of truth.

I can’t let him see it. Not now. Not when everything’s at stake.

The priest continues, his voice a dull hum in my ears as my mind races.

This isn’t real.

The thoughts loop in my head, trying to anchor and numb me to the crushing weight of this moment. But it’s real. Too real. Every word spoken in this church feels like another nail in the coffin of my freedom, my heart, my life.

“Do you, Anthony Paladino,” the priest continues, his gaze settling on Anthony, “take Everly Rinaldi to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?”

Anthony doesn’t hesitate. “I do.”

I swallow hard as the priest turns to me, his eyes kind, his tone soft.

“Do you, Everly Rinaldi, take Anthony Paladino to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?”

The silence stretches, my throat closed up as the weight of the vow crushes me from the inside. I taste the lie on my tongue, but the words refuse to spill. Everything slows.

The scent of church incense hangs suffocatingly thick in the air. I hear the rustle of silk dresses, the uncomfortable cough from someone in the crowd. My fingers are going numb from Anthony's unwavering grip.

Oh, God. Please…

Panic surges, and I glance at the sea of faces watching me. My mother’s hopeful smile, Michele’s sharp gaze dark with warning, and I’m not sure I can breathe. I need to breathe.

“Breathe, baby girl.”

I close my eyes as his voice rings in my head, the memory a haunting lullaby that somehow stills the fear and calms the chaos. A phantom whisper from the past, an echo of something that could have been, but now never will.

Anthony’s hand tightens on mine, grounding me, tethering me to the reality of what I’m about to do—what I have to do.I have no choice.

“I…” The word comes out as a whisper, and I clear my throat, forcing myself to say it. “I do.”

The lie burns as it leaves my lips, scorching through my chest and lodging deep in my soul. I feel like I’ve just signed my death warrant and condemned myself to a life I don’t want with a man I don’t love.

Guilt claws at me as Anthony’s face softens, a small, almost relieved smile pulling at his lips. He believes me. And it kills me.

“Do you have the rings?” the priest asks.

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