Lily POV

The cavernous corridor leading to the grand altar was lined with towering marble columns and stone-faced armed guards.

My hand rested on Jasper's arm, and beneath the fine fabric of his suit, I could feel the steady, calm rhythm of his breathing.

Before we could reach the main doors, a woman stepped out from the shadows to intercept us.

It was Vanessa.

She wore a crimson dress that was entirely too revealing for a traditional Syndicate wedding.

I knew exactly who she was—a ruthlessly ambitious associate connected to the Family's money-laundering fronts.

Her eyes raked over me before dismissing me completely.

She locked her gaze onto Jasper's face with a knowing, predatory gleam.

She knew him for what he was beneath the fine Italian wool.

After a brief, calculating stare, a triumphant smirk twisted her painted lips.

"Congratulations, Lily," Vanessa purred, emphasizing the name Julian Blackwood with dripping sarcasm.

"You really secured a powerful mafia husband today."

Her words struck me with the force of a physical blow, and for a moment, my stomach seized as if I had swallowed a shard of ice.

She was mocking me right to my face, fully convinced I had chosen the wrong twin and sealed my own doom.

I remembered Julian's past excuses—how he always claimed Vanessa was just an unstable associate stressed by the FBI heat.

But the vivid flashes of my nightmare had shown me their sick wager in an underground speakeasy.

If I chose wrong today, Julian would use Jasper's identity to run the European cartel routes with Vanessa for three months.

They thought I was a fool, but I decided to let them dig their own graves in the eyes of the entire Syndicate.

I flashed a cold, radiant smile at her.

"Thank you, Vanessa," I said smoothly.

"I hope you get exactly what you deserve."

Her smirk faltered for a fraction of a second.

Without giving her another glance, I pulled Jasper toward the grand doors, my grip on his arm unyielding.

The brass-bound oak doors swung open, and a somber, liturgical strain of orchestral music filled the vaulted space.

The grand altar was surrounded by hundreds of hardened Capos and Soldiers, a sea of tailored suits and concealed weapons.

The towering screens flanking the altar displayed the intertwined crests of Shaw and Blackwood.

My name and Julian's name were written in bold gold letters.

I walked down the aisle, feeling the weight of a thousand dangerous eyes on me.

I looked toward the front pews.

Julian and Vanessa were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder.

They were blatantly disrespecting the sacred ceremony by whispering to each other.

Jasper led me up the velvet-lined steps to the altar.

The Syndicate Priest began the ancient, sacred vows in Latin.

I stood nestled against Jasper's chest, feeling the radiating heat of his body shielding me from the predatory crowd. His heartbeat beneath my palm was slow and steady—the calm before a storm that would either crown me or destroy me.

I cast a sideways glance at the pews, and a sickening flash from the dream assaulted my mind.

Julian kissing my earlobe, whispering that he finally owned me.

My stomach churned with nausea.

When Julian's eyes finally met mine from the pews, a primal instinct seemed to kick in.

He abruptly dropped Vanessa's hand, as if suddenly remembering he was supposed to be the spectator today.

He awkwardly rubbed his jaw, trying to mask his sudden panic.

Vanessa glared at her empty hand, her eyes darkening with a toxic, uncontrollable rage.

The Priest finished the final blessing, his voice echoing as he commanded the groom to kiss the bride to seal the blood oath.

A silence fell over the room, so profound one could have heard a pin drop.

I remembered Julian specifically ordering the Priest to skip the kiss today—he had been disgusted by the thought of his brother touching his property.

Julian's entire plan was built on Jasper acting as a passive, silent stand-in.

Shattering the quiet, a woman's voice suddenly cried out from the pews. It was Vanessa, on her feet, breaking Omertà and every unspoken rule of respect.

"Kiss her! Let's see the happy couple seal the deal!" Vanessa taunted, her voice echoing off the high ceilings.

The hardened Capos and Soldiers in the crowd began to holler and instigate, pounding their fists on the wooden benches, demanding the tradition be honored.

Julian violently yanked Vanessa back into her seat.

He roared at the crowd to shut up, but his authority was slipping fast as the room descended into chaos.

I looked up at Jasper. I could see the hard line of his throat as he swallowed, a difficult motion that forced a heavy breath down into the confines of his starched collar.

He was waiting for me to pull away—waiting for the charade to end.

Instead, I defied them all.

I grabbed Jasper by his dark silk tie, pulled his head down, and crushed my lips against his. The room erupted, but all I could hear was the single, sharp crack of Julian's composure shattering like a bullet through glass.

Lily POV

The kiss was a fiery, undeniable claim.

Jasper froze for a split second before his hands fisted in the delicate silk at my back, the knuckles white against the fabric.

He pulled me flush against his hard body, erasing any space between us.

His mouth devoured mine, taking complete control with a predatory grace.

The taste of him was dark and intoxicating, like expensive whiskey and raw danger.

A sharp report, like the crack of splintering ice, cut through the room. Julian had crushed a heavy crystal tumbler in his bare hand; blood welled between his knuckles and dripped onto the polished floor.

He surged to his feet, his face a mask of contorted fury, and took a menacing step into the aisle as if to rip me from Jasper’s arms, but was anchored in place by Vanessa’s nails digging into his forearm.

Even from a distance, I could read the venomous shape of the words on his lips.

“What the hell are you doing?” Julian snarled.

I peeked out from behind Jasper’s broad shoulder, catching my breath before I spoke.

I feigned perfect innocence.

“Why can’t I kiss my own husband?” I asked, questioning his explosive rage with an arched brow.

Jasper stared down his twin from across the hushed expanse of the room.

His voice was a lethal, quiet warning that carried over the hushed crowd.

“She is your sister-in-law now,” Jasper said.

“You will treat her with the respect of a Don’s wife.”

Jasper deliberately lifted his thumb and wiped my smeared lipstick off his own bottom lip.

He licked the red stain off his skin while maintaining dead eye contact with Julian.

Julian’s eyes turned bloodshot with murderous jealousy.

His hand twitched toward his suit jacket, reaching for his weapon.

Before Julian could draw his gun, Vanessa rushed the stage.

She grabbed Julian’s arm, digging her manicured nails into his sleeve.

She hissed in his ear, “Don’t be a fool. The allied Bosses and corrupt politicians are watching our every move.”

I watched as Julian scanned the dangerous crowd.

The rigid set of his shoulders told me he realized a public brawl would fracture the Blackwood Syndicate’s alliances permanently.

Vanessa smoothly covered for him.

She projected her voice for the front rows to hear.

“The Underboss had too much whiskey celebrating his brother’s union,” Vanessa claimed, flashing a brilliant, fake smile as if Julian was simply the reckless brother.

The Consigliere quickly stepped in to smooth things over.

He ordered the musicians to play and the entertainment to begin.

Before retreating down the steps, Julian shot Jasper a look that promised a violent Vendetta.

An hour later, I slipped away from the stifling reception.

I walked down the quiet, guarded corridors toward the VIP lounges.

Through a door left cracked a mere inch, I heard the sound of shattering glass from a supposedly soundproofed room.

I peered through the gap.

Julian had just shattered a crystal tumbler at Jasper’s feet.

A sharp shard of glass flew up and sliced a thin line across Jasper’s cheek.

A single drop of blood traced a slow path down the hard line of Jasper’s jaw.

“You were never supposed to actually take the vows!” Julian barked, pacing the room like a caged animal.

“And you definitely were not supposed to enjoy that kiss.”

Jasper stood completely unfazed.

He slowly wiped the blood from his cheek with his thumb, staring blankly at the crimson smear.

“If I shoved the bride away, the Syndicate would look weak,” Jasper mocked him coldly.

“Do you want a war with the Shaw family?”

Julian grabbed Jasper by the lapels of his tailored suit.

“You are plotting a coup to steal Lily,” Julian accused, his voice shaking with paranoia.

Julian shoved him backward.

“You are leaving for Europe tonight,” Julian ordered.

“You will deal with the Bratva. It is a suicide run, and you will not come back until I say so.”

Julian beat his chest with his fist.

“I am the true Heir! Lily is my property!”

I stood in the shadows of the hallway, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach so profoundly it felt as though I had swallowed a knot of cold iron.

I finally understood the ultimate truth.

Don Blackwood had decreed that whoever marries me secures the seat of the Boss.

Julian’s outburst proved what I had always feared: he didn’t love me.

He only loved the crown that came with my hand.

Watching Jasper wipe the fresh blood from his face, I flashed back to a memory from when I was eighteen.

My family’s convoy had been ambushed by a rival cartel.

A masked man had jumped in front of me, taking a brutal blade to the gut to protect my life.

I had always thought it was Julian.

But looking at Jasper now, seeing the way he stood and the way he moved, everything clicked into place.

It was Jasper who had bled for me that day.

The realization dissolved whatever twisted sense of obligation I thought I owed Julian, like salt in water.

I slipped away from the door, my mind racing with a new, dangerous plan.

I pulled out my phone and made a covert call to arrange a private sit-down with Don Blackwood.

I navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the estate until I reached the Don’s private study. The great oak doors, bound in brass, swung open to reveal the Syndicate’s patriarch enthroned in shadow. I did not waste myself on pleasantries. I laid before him the raw truth of his son’s tawdry wager, of his plan to abandon the Family’s sacred vows for a street-level fancy. In return for his blessing, I offered the Don a more suitable heir—one forged in silence and lethality. The old man’s eyes, chips of obsidian in a withered face, gleamed with a cold, calculating approval as our new pact was sealed in the gloom.

Hours later, I sat in the heavily guarded bridal suite.

I was lounging on the dark leather sofa, sipping a glass of vintage red wine to calm my frayed nerves.

The heavy mahogany door clicked open.

Jasper stepped into the room.

He had defied a direct order to fly to Europe.

He locked the door behind him and stared at me.

“Join me,” I invited, holding out the glass.

Jasper walked over and took the glass from my hand.

He didn’t drink.

His predatory gaze was fixed entirely on the red wine staining my lips.

His intent was crystal clear.

He set the glass down on the table.

He leaned down and captured my mouth.

But before I surrendered completely, I pulled back for one breath.

In the darkness of that bridal suite, I whispered against his chest:

“I already made the call to your father. The Don knows about the wager. He knows about Vanessa.”

Jasper froze.

“I told him you would make a better Don than Julian. And he agreed.”

His hand tightened in my hair. Not with shock. With recognition.

“You’ve been playing chess,” he murmured.

“No.” I kissed the scar on his jaw. “I’ve been cleaning the board.”

Then his mouth found mine again, and the claiming was absolute.

He backed me through the suite, pushing me from the living room until my back met the silk sheets of a bed supported on four massive pillars of mahogany.

His hands were everywhere, possessing every inch of my skin.

Right before the point of no return, Jasper suddenly stopped.

His muscles were trembling with restraint.

He hovered over me, his chest heaving.

“Tell me,” Jasper demanded, his voice a raw growl.

“Do you truly know whose bed you are in?”

I reached up and dragged my nails lightly down his broad back.

“Jasper Blackwood,” I whispered against his hot skin.

“My husband.”

A dark, vibrating growl ripped from his throat.

Jasper took what was his, sealing our bond in blood and passion.

And as I fell into him, one final image from my nightmare surfaced: the man who jumped after me.

The set of those shoulders. The desperate arc of that reach.

Jasper.

It had always been Jasper.