Let’s get this over with.
The wedding was a formality. A performance. A necessary illusion to keep the families quiet and the bloodlines clean. I stood there in a tailored suit that cost more than most men’s mortgages, watching GreenLee walk toward me like she was stepping into a trap she didn’t know she’d helped set.
She was radiant. Real. And I hated that this day—this moment—was tainted by what had to come next.
Ivan.
The after party was the real ceremony. That’s where the vows would be broken, the masks would slip, and the trap would snap shut. I’d planned every detail with Gio and Sal—timing, exits, weapons, backup. But none of it felt clean. Not with GreenLee’s laugh echoing in my chest like a promise I wasn’t sure I deserved.
I didn’t want her near the fallout. She’d seen enoug
