Page 1 of Darkest Oblivion
Chapter 1
PENELOPE
“See how far you’ve come, Penelope,” Antonio sneered, his voice dripping with venom as he adjusted his tie at the altar. “Paraded up here like a pig in lace. Even the gown can’t hide it—your belly looks swollen, your arms soft and jiggling. You look like a bloated mess.”
My heart lurched. The man standing before me was my fiancé—Antonio Bellanti. Three years together. Three years of whispered promises and stolen kisses. Three years of me believing he cherished me.
And here he was, tearing me apart on our wedding day.
The church fell into a heavy silence. The priest shifted uneasily behind us. Mafia men in sharp suits lined the pews. Their women wore diamonds, their lips curled with cruel amusement.
I blinked back tears. This can’t be real.
“Antonio... what’s wrong with you?” I whispered, barely moving my lips, terrified of drawing more eyes.
“What’s wrong with me?” He grinned cruelly, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if amused. “The real question is—what’s wrong with you? Did you actually believe I’d ever love you? A pig, Penelope. A soft, greedy pig. No man will ever love you. Not truly.”
My stomach turned to stone.
“I married you,” he continued, lowering his voice but not enough that the front row couldn’t hear, “because your family bleeds money. Because your father and uncles trust me like a son. You, Penelope—you were just the easiest way in. Once the rings are on, you’re my key to all of it. My puppet.”
My hands trembled, clutching the bouquet of white roses, their thorns pricking my palms.
The church spun, the stained-glass windows casting blood-red light across Antonio’s smirking face.
This was our wedding day, the most anticipated moment of my life, and the man I’d loved was shattering me in front of everyone?
He’d mocked my weight before, calling it a “joke” when I’d begged him to stop, but this was different—vicious, deliberate, meant to wound.
“Antonio,” my lips trembled, “please tell me this is a joke.”
He smirked. That mocking, sharp curl of his lips that I had once found charming now looked monstrous.
“A joke?” he scoffed, then leaned closer, his breath hot against my cheek. “I fucked your cousin an hour before the ceremony. Sofia. Sweet little Sofia with her tight waist and pouty lips. She begged for it, and I gave it to her. Do with that what you want.”
The words split me in half.
My knees weakened.
Images flooded my mind—Last month, at my father’s gala, I’d caught them in the garden, Sofia’s hand lingering on his arm, their laughter too intimate.
Two weeks ago, at the family dinner, she’d sat beside him, her thigh pressed against his under the table, his smile too warm.
I’d told myself it was nothing. I had believed him. But now the truth burned through me.
My hands shook, the bouquet slipping, as fear coiled in my gut.
Antonio was taking me to Italy after the wedding—a helicopter waited outside, ready to whisk us to his hometown.
What would he do to me there, in a place where no one would hear me scream?
The priest cleared his throat, the sound brittle in the silence. Sweat gleamed at his temple as his gaze flicked nervously to Marco—my father—then to Rocco and Carlo, my uncles, as though begging for their approval to continue.
His hands trembled around the Bible, knuckles pale against the leather binding.
“L-let us...” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. “Let us proceed to the vows. Penelope, Antonio—please... please take each other’s hands.”
My fingers shook violently as Antonio clasped them with his smug grip, tightening until my bones ached. My chest felt hollow, panic scraping my ribs raw.
