He Stole My Wedding; I Fell In love With Him Anyway

Evangeline “Happy eighteenth birthday, Piccolina.” The diamonds around my throat felt heavier than chains. The bodice the maids had laced me into was painfully tight, deliberately so, forcing every curve into view. I wanted to knock away the hand of the maid fussing over a wrinkle that didn't exist. I wanted to scream that I hated the red lipstick staining my mouth and the curls they'd pinned into my hair. Most of all, I hated what the mirror reflected. I didn't look like a girl who had just turned eighteen. I looked like a woman. A fully grown woman, groomed for whatever awaited downstairs. Groomed for the hungry eyes of men whose attention made my skin crawl. “Try to smile a little, Evangel,” Rebecca Adina Costa murmured, her breath brushing my bare shoulder as she circled behind me. I tilted my head, swallowing the rage simmering beneath my skin, and forced a smile. What else was there to do? “Better now, Mother?” “Much.” Rebecca smiled softly, but I caught the twitch at the corner of her eye. “I'm so glad you're finally eighteen.” Her voice was warm, almost wistful. “Your father has made sure nearly every influential family is present tonight. Families from Sicily, Liguria—even your cousins from Palermo. He wants tonight to be memorable.” Of course he does. Of course he invited them. Of course he wanted to make an impression. Tonight, the ballroom would smell of wealth, power, and me. For five years, Lucio Alessandro Costa—my adoptive father—had been preparing me for this day. For five years, he had made certain I never forgot it was coming. And this wasn't even the eighteenth birthday I wanted. I wanted to dance barefoot in the rain. I wanted to read the novels girls my age whispered about at school. I wanted one reckless moment without security guards shadowing my every step or Lucio's gaze assessing the length of my skirts and the shape of my dresses. “The only memorable thing about tonight,” I muttered, “is Don Nicolosi securing my placement at the university for the fall term.” “Going somewhere, amore mio?” I heard the disappointment in Lucio's voice before I saw him. My throat locked. My spine straightened instinctively. I kept my eyes on my reflection as the maids adjusted the silk gown clinging to my body. White satin. Hand-stitched pearls. Long sleeves designed to make me look pure…and untouchable. “Not yet, Father,” I said politely. “I was just talking about the university and Don Nicolosi—” “He expects you to show your appreciation for his efforts.” Lucio muttered, cutting me off. “Of course, Father.” I smiled. “That's why, once I get to the university—” “You don't need to get to the university to show your appreciation, amore mio.” His voice was gentle. “You can do that tonight by focusing on the party downstairs.” The breath caught in my throat. “B-but how do I show my appreciation by attending a party?” I asked, maintaining my smile. “I've already arranged that, tesoro.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “See how I always look out for what's best for you.” Against my will, I smiled back. Lucio always knew the right thing to say. Always knew exactly how to make me lower my guard. Then his tone shifted, enough to make the room seem colder. “I need you to remember something tonight,” he said. “When you walk into that ballroom, every man's eyes will be on you.” The smile died on my lips instantly. “And while they're imagining what they'd like to do with you; standing behind you, bending you over the dinner table—” “Father—” “Shh.” His finger pressed lightly against my lips. The gesture was gentle but the warning beneath it was not. “Don't be shy, bambina. It's important that you understand these things.” His words crawled beneath my skin. I didn't want men fantasizing about me. I didn't want the attention of Lucio's associates or political allies. I wanted university, books, a life that belonged to me. Nothing more. I dropped my gaze immediately. “No, amore mio.” Lucio's voice hardened. “Look at me.” His eyes searched my face with unsettling judgment. “Lift your head.” It wasn't a request. I obeyed. Anything else would have been foolish. My eyes settled somewhere near his shoulder, refusing to meet his. His gaze drifted to the corset. “Does it hurt?” I noticed colour drain from the maid standing to my left. I ignored her and nodded. A small movement. Hopeful and pathetic. For a moment, Lucio studied the bodice. “You should have begun corset training sooner,” he said. “But that's easily corrected.” His eyes returned to mine. “You're a woman now.” The words settled heavily in my chest. “You can bear the pain.” Silence stretched across the room. Then he added, almost thoughtfully, “Women are born for pain, tesoro.” Rebecca's hand tightened at her side. The maids behind lowered their eyes. “...born to conceal it. Endure it. Allow it to sharpen their focus.” The last thread of hope I had been clinging to snapped. Completely. Lucio circled me slowly.Unhurried. Certain. Then stopped behind me. He stood tall in his Immaculate black suit, one hand tucked neatly behind his back as he inspected me. His silver cufflinks caught the chandelier light as he spoke. “Tonight, your focus should be Don Nicolosi,” he said calmly, “and how to…show your appreciation.” I nodded once. “Yes, Father.” “And remember,” he continued, “your loyalty to this family is your greatest asset, amore mio.” My fingers curled into the fabric of my dress, my throat tightening, but I forced the words out evenly. “Certainly, Father. I am aware. That is why I chose international business; to support the logistics company—” “Enough!” The word was sharp and final. “Enough talk about university, tesoro.” Rebecca flinched at the shift in his tone. I didn't. “Just focus on tonight.” Silence pressed in again. Then, almost absentmindedly, he murmured, “You’re quiet.” My nails dug into my palm. “What would you like me to say?” And slowly, a faint smile touched his mouth as he stepped closer behind me. “That you understand what you are now.” His voice lowered. “You are eighteen. You have bled. You understand what that means. You owe people gratitude.” Something inside me cracked. I wanted to sweep everything off the dresser. Lipstick. Perfume. Pearls. The illusion of beauty carefully arranged around me. I wanted to scream that I was not ready. That I was still a girl who wanted barefoot mornings in the orchard, books pressed to her chest, laughter without consequence. But I stayed still and smiled. “Still no less a girl, Father.” “No.” His reply was almost immediate. “You are a woman now.” Another pause stretched. “One with responsibility.” I shifted slightly, attempting to turn but his hand landed on my shoulder. Not hard, not gentle either. Just enough to stop me. “Your fantasies,” he said quietly, “have no place in our world, amore mio.” My stomach twisted. “Let me talk to her,” Rebecca began, voice thin. Lucio didn’t look at her. He didn’t need to.The silence he gave her was enough to shut her up immediately. She fell quiet. He leaned in and adjusted the diamond at my throat as though I were a display piece. “I have made sacrifices for you, tesoro,” he said. “And all I ask in return…is honour.” Honour. The word felt like a cage. Like something I would never walk away from. “I understand,” I said. Because understanding was safer than resistance. Because obedience was what kept the air in my lungs. A maid hurried forward, voice trembling. “Sir… the guests have begun arriving.” Lucio straightened. At last. Stepping back, his eyes narrowed slightly as they moved over me. “Do you understand, amore mio?” “Yes, Father.” He paused briefly, eyes softening. “You look perfect.” Something flickered in his gaze before I could place what it was. “...Just like your mother did,” he added. “On the night of her engagement.” The words froze the air in my chest. My mother. A shadow stitched together from fragments I could never hold long enough to see clearly. Soft hands, the scent of roses, blood on white fabric, then nothing. Always nothing. Lucio tilted my chin upward, forcing me to meet him. “Enough of the past. I have a surprise for you downstairs,” he said, voice almost gentle.“Do you want to know what it is?” Cold spread slowly through my chest. “Yes, Father,” I whispered. He released me, then turned away, walking to the door. “Then come downstairs when you’re ready.” And just like that, he left. The doors closed behind him with a soft finality that felt louder than a gunshot. For a moment, no one moved. Then Rebecca exhaled. At the same time the maids resumed their work. “He only means well, dear,” Rebecca said softly, her hands shaking slightly as she took mine. “You know that, right?” I didn’t answer. Not because I agreed. Not because I didn’t. But because I was suddenly aware of something I had been avoiding all evening—Rebecca’s reflection in the mirror; the too-fast blinking, the tightness at the corners of her smile, the way she stood like a woman who had learned how to survive inside a beautiful cage—was exactly what I'd become. I turned back to the mirror. Red lips, heavy lashes, perfume clinging to skin that no longer felt like mine. A girl dressed like a promise. A prisoner dressed for an audience she didn't want to entertain. My gaze dropped to the diamond ring on my finger. Cold, demanding, and possessive. For a moment—only a moment—the thought returned. What if I ran? My pulse jumped. Lucio would find me. He would. I shook the thoughts away and straightened. “I know he means well, Mother,” I said at last, smoothing my voice into something obedient. Then I lifted my chin, forcing a smile. “Let’s not keep him waiting. I need to see what my father has prepared for me downstairs.” The hallway outside the room was already waiting. And somewhere beyond it… The party had begun..