Chapter 83 – The Final Wedding
****Isabelle’s POV****
The morning sunlight felt softer than I remembered it ever being. Not weak—no, it was golden, warm, spilling over the lace curtains of the villa bedroom where I had been sequestered since dawn—but softer, as though even the sun knew today wasn’t a day for battles, for violence, for iron and gunfire. Today was meant to be a day where I put down my armor, where I walked toward Dante not as his comrade, not as his enemy, not even as his shield, but simply as his wife.
And yet, as I sat before the ornate mirror, my breath caught in my throat, my reflection blurred with a haze of memory.
How many times had I stood before mirrors like this one and seen only scars? Not all of them physical—the ones carved deeper were the invisible fracture
