Even now, he still believed he had done nothing wrong.

I looked at him calmly, my gaze distant and indifferent.

"If you feel wronged," I said lightly, "we can choose another day to get married."

The moment the words left my mouth, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist tightly, his grip strong enough to hurt. Two soldiers flanking the corridor entrance shifted their weight but didn't move. They knew better than to intervene when the heir's temper surfaced.

"You don't want to marry me, is that it?" he demanded, his voice low and tense. "If you don't want to get married, just say it. Who are you trying to show this attitude to?"

His eyes locked onto mine, filled with anger and accusation.

Even at this moment, he still believed that everything was my fault.

I didn't back down. I met his gaze and said coldly, "Hasn't it always been your decision whether we get married or not?"

"You…"

Dante was clearly caught off guard. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. It was as if he hadn't expected me to speak to him like this, not here, not today, not with half the Family's capos still milling through the cathedral vestibule beyond the heavy oak doors.

Dante had always cared deeply about his image. In front of so many people, especially on an occasion like this, reputation meant everything to him. Among the Families, a man's composure was his currency. The fact that he hadn't stormed off after everything that had just happened was already unusual.

For a moment, I thought he wouldn't be able to take it anymore, that he would lose control and call off the ceremony on the spot.

But instead, he suddenly spoke, his tone firm and resolute.

"Of course we're getting married!"

I was briefly stunned, a flicker of something uncertain passing through my mind.

But before that thought could settle, he shattered it completely with his next sentence.

"But I want Valentina with me."

As he said it, his hand had already reached out to take Valentina's, their fingers interlocking naturally, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His thumb smoothed once across the face of his watch before he let it drop, the gesture so habitual I doubted he even noticed it anymore.

Valentina's face lit up instantly. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and a faint blush crept across her cheeks as she quickly nodded, clearly delighted by his words. I caught the briefest flash of her tongue pressing against her canine before her smile widened, sweet and triumphant.

Anyone who didn't know the situation would have easily mistaken them for the real couple getting married today.

They walked ahead together, side by side, leaving me a few steps behind. And just like before, every gaze in the room followed me. Capos' wives, consiglieri, associates with stakes in the Moretti name. Every one of them reading the distance between me and the heir like a line in a ledger.

This time, there was no need to guess what they were thinking. The disdain, the mockery, the barely concealed amusement — it was all painfully clear.

I let out a soft, cold laugh. "What? Should I throw a tantrum right here and give you exactly the show you're all waiting for?"

My voice was light, but my smile carried a sharp edge. Then I simply lifted my chin and followed behind them without another word.

When we reached the car — a black armored sedan idling at the cathedral steps, driver standing at attention — I instinctively reached for the handle of the lead vehicle. Just as my fingers brushed against it, Valentina suddenly leaned out from inside.

She tilted her head slightly, her smile full of provocation.

"Adriana, Dante wants me by his side for the most important moments of his life. That's okay with you, right?"

Her tone was soft, but every word was a deliberate challenge.

"You two getting married?" I almost said it aloud, the words rising to my lips.

But just as I was about to respond, I caught sight of Dante's expression. His face was calm, almost indifferent, as if he didn't think there was anything worth explaining.

I swallowed the words back down.

Instead, I opened the passenger door without hesitation.

"If the groom doesn't even care," I said lightly, "why should I? Am I supposed to humiliate myself on purpose?"

With that, I smiled faintly and handed the bouquet in my hands over to Valentina.

Through the rearview mirror, I saw Dante staring at me. His brows were tightly furrowed, his gaze sharp and probing. I knew he was angry, though I couldn't tell whether it was because of my words or my attitude. The soldier in the driver's seat kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, jaw tight, the way men did when they heard everything and pretended to hear nothing.

But I didn't respond. I simply leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes, as if none of it mattered. My thumb drifted toward the edge of the St. Christopher medal at my throat, then stopped. I let my hand fall to my lap instead.

The car remained unusually quiet for most of the ride. No one spoke, the air heavy with tension. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the faint crackle of a radio the driver had turned almost all the way down.

It wasn't until we were almost at the estate that Dante finally broke the silence.

"Adriana, what exactly is your problem?" he demanded, his tone edged with irritation.

I opened my eyes slowly, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

Without warning, he snatched the bouquet out of Valentina's hands and threw it onto the back seat. The fresh petals scattered everywhere, filling the car with a faint fragrance that felt strangely out of place against the leather interior and the faint residue of his cologne.

"I really don't understand what game you're playing," he said, his voice growing colder. "Who are you trying to impress with this act?"

"I've already made it clear. Valentina is just a friend. I'm marrying you. What more do you want?"

Before I could respond, Valentina chimed in, her tone soft but pointed.

"Adriana, I don't mean to offend you, but as a woman, you really should be more generous," she said with a faint smile. "Yes, I like Dante, but you're the one he's marrying. What exactly are you worried about?"

"An alliance wedding is supposed to be a happy occasion for everyone, isn't it?" she continued, tilting her head slightly. "A little teasing during the reception is completely normal. And later, during the reception games, there might be more intimate moments, like kissing. You're not going to stop us, are you?"

I raised my eyelids and looked at her, a knowing expression flickering in my eyes.

"Of course," I replied calmly. "When it's time for the reception games, I'll leave with everyone else. You can do whatever you want."

There was no hesitation in my tone, no trace of sarcasm. Just simple acceptance.

It was obvious what Valentina was trying to do. She wanted to take Dante away from me, openly and without shame. The daughter of an allied capo, raised inside the Moretti circle since childhood, she had always treated that proximity as entitlement.

That was why she kept provoking me again and again. She wanted me to lose control, to get angry, so she could play the victim afterward.

And every time, she succeeded.

Because Dante's heart had always been on her side.

Whenever I reacted, he would accuse me of being jealous, petty, unreasonable. He would defend her without question, the way a man defends someone whose family name carries weight at every sit-down.

Thinking about it now, I couldn't help but find my past self ridiculous. All those arguments, all those tears. It felt like I had been fighting in some absurd war of attrition, competing for something that was never truly mine.

Valentina clearly didn't get the reaction she wanted from me this time. Her expression stiffened for a brief moment before she let out a cold, sarcastic laugh. Her tongue pressed once against her canine before her smile returned, sweet and practiced.

"Your mind is as filthy as ever," she said lightly. "Dante and I are completely innocent. Why do you always imagine things like that?"

"It's your wedding with him," she added, her tone turning sharper. "Do you really have to humiliate him like this?"

I let out a quiet laugh, my gaze turning cold.

"Who's humiliating who?" I shot back. "Does someone who knowingly plays the third wheel even have the right to speak?"

My voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear and sharp.

It wasn't about jealousy anymore. I wasn't fighting over Dante.

I just didn't want to keep lowering myself, didn't want to keep being trampled on like before.

Dante immediately seized on my words, as if finally finding proof of what he had been waiting for.

He let out a sigh, his expression filled with exaggerated frustration.

"Adriana, how long are you going to keep acting this childish?" he said. "If I didn't love you, would I have married you?"

In the past, I would have argued back without hesitation. I would have told him that marriage didn't equal love, that Valentina was manipulative, that he was blind to it all.

But now, I didn't feel like arguing anymore.

I simply turned my gaze forward, looking out at the road ahead. The convoy rolled through streets the Moretti name owned in everything but deed, and I let his words pass over me without response.

My silence seemed to irritate him even more than any argument ever had.

Finally, he lost his temper completely.

"Adriana!" he snapped, his voice rising. "What does your silence mean? Do you think I'm the one who's wrong?"

His thumb smoothed once across the face of his watch, a quick, controlled motion. The driver's eyes stayed fixed on the road, carefully seeing nothing.

I let out a soft, cold laugh and decided to play along with him.

"How could you possibly be wrong?" I said lightly. "It's me who judged you unfairly."

The words were the same as always, the familiar response I had repeated countless times before. But this time, my tone carried something different, something loose and almost mocking, as if I were speaking from a distance rather than from within the situation.

For a brief second, I thought I saw something flicker across Dante's face. It looked like panic, or maybe unease. But it vanished so quickly that I couldn't be sure if I had imagined it.

With his pride and arrogance, he wasn't the type to dwell on something like that. He simply assumed I had backed down again, just like I always did.

Thinking I had been frightened into submission, he straightened slightly and said in a smug, almost condescending tone, "I'll take you inside."

The way he spoke made it sound less like an offer and more like a favor, as if he were granting me some kind of undeserved mercy.

When we arrived at the front hall of the cathedral, it was already filled with capos' wives, associates, and old family allies who had been invited to the ceremony. The entire space buzzed with chatter and anticipation, the low hum of conversation rolling beneath vaulted stone ceilings where candlelight caught the gold leaf overhead.

Dante walked ahead of me without slowing down, holding onto Valentina's arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I followed a few steps behind, like an afterthought.

The usher approached them and, without hesitation, turned to Valentina and said politely, "The bride should be separated from the groom for a while before the ceremony."

Valentina lifted her chin slightly and glanced at me, her eyes filled with pride and quiet triumph. She didn't bother explaining anything, as if my presence didn't even warrant clarification.

I let out a silent sneer and was about to turn away when Dante suddenly reached back and grabbed my wrist.

"What are you talking about?" he said to the usher, his tone sharp. "This is my wife."

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze.

It was the first time he had ever called me that. The word felt unfamiliar coming from his mouth, almost surreal.

Dante stood up for me, acknowledged me as his wife in front of others.

But the moment didn't last.

As if he had touched something unpleasant, he quickly let go of my wrist, his expression returning to its usual indifference.

The ceremony itself proceeded without any major disruptions. Everything followed the expected sequence, smooth and orderly on the surface. The priest spoke his words, the candles held their flames, and the guests sat in their assigned pews according to rank.

Soon, it was time for the bouquet toss.

Without even looking at me, Dante simply took the bouquet and handed it directly to Valentina, completely bypassing me as if I didn't exist.

I noticed that his eyes were slightly red, glistening faintly under the lights.

"I hope you find happiness," he said softly.

Valentina clung tightly to him, her voice trembling as she spoke, her eyes filled with tears.

"Dante, you'll belong to someone else soon," she said. "As your friend… can you give me one last kiss?"

For a moment, I just stared at her, stunned.

I had seen shameless behavior before, but this was on an entirely different level.

What shocked me even more was the reaction of the crowd. Instead of discomfort or disapproval, there was excitement.

Dante and I hadn't informed either family's elders about this wedding. We had only invited a small group of close associates and inner-circle friends.

I didn't have many people to begin with, so most of the guests present were his. Made men. Crew loyalists. People who had grown up under the Moretti name.

Before the wedding, I had suggested making it more formal, inviting both families so it would feel meaningful, real. Otherwise, it would seem like nothing more than a childish performance.

But he had turned it against me, accusing me of not respecting his wishes. He had said that if I didn't want to get married, I should just say it.

Now, the crowd began chanting loudly, their voices filling the reception hall.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

The host stood there awkwardly, clearly unprepared for this situation, unsure of how to guide the ceremony forward.

Dante and Valentina stood close together, their bodies nearly touching. Their chests pressed together, their noses almost brushing, as if they were about to merge into one.

Even in that moment, Valentina didn't forget to glance at me, her eyes full of deliberate provocation.

Dante hesitated for only a few seconds before leaning in.

It lasted no more than ten seconds.

But it was enough.

Enough to humiliate me completely, right there in front of everyone.

At my own wedding.

Any other woman in my place would have already exploded, would have rushed forward and torn them apart.

But I didn't move.

My expression remained calm, composed, almost detached.

Was I not a woman?

Of course I was.

I just… didn't love Dante anymore.

That was all.

But my silence didn't stop his people from stepping in.

Rocco was the loudest among them, his voice cutting through the noise. He cracked his neck once to the left and then went still, settling into that unnatural calm of his before he spoke.

"Adriana, how many times do we have to say it?" he scoffed. "Dante and Valentina are just good friends. Friends hugging and kissing is completely normal. I don't get why you're so jealous."

He shook his head, as if deeply disappointed.

"We actually feel bad for Dante," he continued. "Having to deal with someone as controlling as you. He has no freedom at all."

"If it were me," he added with a sneer, "I wouldn't be able to stand it. This wedding shouldn't even happen."

One after another, Dante's associates joined in, their words twisting the situation, subtly shifting the blame onto me.

It had always been like this.

No matter what I did or didn't do, as long as I stood beside Dante, they would find a reason to criticize me, to lecture me, to make me the problem.

I looked at Rocco calmly and asked, "So that means we're friends too, right?"

He paused for a moment, slightly confused, but quickly nodded.

"Of course," he said. "Dante and I are like brothers, and you're about to be his wife. I already think of you as my sister-in-law."

Dante glanced at him, his eyes softening with emotion, as if moved by this declaration of brotherhood.

The atmosphere was suddenly filled with a sense of loyalty and camaraderie.

I almost laughed.

Without warning, I stepped forward.

Before Rocco could react, I leaned in, rising onto my toes, and pressed my lips against his.

He froze in shock, completely unprepared.

While Dante and Valentina's kiss had lasted only ten seconds, I didn't pull away.

Thirty seconds passed.

Then more.

The chanting died. Every voice in the room collapsed into nothing. Somewhere behind me, a glass was set down on a table with exaggerated care, as if the person holding it was afraid the sound might shatter whatever was left of the evening.

By the time I finally stopped, Rocco was visibly breathless, his face flushed with disbelief.

He stumbled back, finally snapping out of it, and pushed me away.

The entire room fell into stunned silence.

Everyone was completely dumbfounded.

No one looked at Rocco. Every pair of eyes in that hall drifted, slowly and inevitably, toward Dante.