The devil's last bride

Chapter 3: The first twist

"Where is he?" Elena demanded. Damien paused, his hand still on the decanter. He didn't look back at her immediately.

"Who?"

"My father," Elena said, her voice cutting through the quiet room like a blade. She stepped closer to him, her heels clicking sharply against the polished marble. "I stood in that church. I wore your ring. I signed your contract. The deal was my father's life, Damien. Where is he?" Damien picked up his glass, took a slow sip, and finally turned to face her. His dark eyes

were completely expressionless. "I don't have your father, Elena." Elena let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "Do you think I'm stupid? Your men showed up at

my house three days ago. They handed me an invitation to this forced marriage and left my father's signet ring covered in his blood. They told me if I didn't marry you in seventy-two hours, they'd send me his hand!" Damien's brow furrowed slightly—the first real break in his stone mask since she had met

him. He set his whiskey glass down on the wooden counter with a soft clink. "What did you just say?" he asked quietly. "You heard me," Elena spat, reaching into her small handbag. She pulled out the blood-stained signet ring and the heavy golden invitation card, shoving them toward his chest. "Look at it! Your signature is on the contract! You threatened his life to force me here!" Damien didn't take the invitation immediately. He looked down at her hand, then slowly

reached out, taking the card and the ring from her fingers. He glanced at the gold lettering on the heavy stock paper. Then he looked at the dried blood

on the silver signet ring.

"Mike," Damien called out. His voice wasn't raised, but the tone made the air in the room drop ten degrees. Mike stepped into the foyer from the hallway, his usual relaxed smile completely vanishing

the moment he heard Damien's tone. "Boss?"

"Who collected the Rossi debt file three days ago?" Damien asked, keeping his eyes on the blood-stained ring in his palm.

"Nobody, boss," Mike replied, looking confused. "You put a hold on the Rossi file two weeks ago. You said Arthur Rossi's accounts were off-limits until we figured out where his ledger was." Elena looked back and forth between the two men, her heart beginning to pound against her

ribs. "What are you talking about? Your men came to my house in gray suits-"

"My men don't wear gray suits, Miss Rossi," Damien interrupted calmly, turning the invitation over in his hands. "They wear black. And I don't send wedding invitations to settle forty-two million euro debts."

The Devil's Last BrideElena felt the room sway slightly beneath her feet. "No... no, that's impossible. They knew

my father's debt down to the exact euro. They had his ring!" Damien looked up from the card, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a sharp, lethal focus.

"Whoever came to your house used my name. They used my reputation to terrify you into walking down that aisle today." "Why?" Elena whispered, her voice cracking for the first time. "Why would anyone force me to marry you if it wasn't you?!" Damien didn't answer right away. He walked over to the large fireplace on the far wall,

tossing the forged wedding invitation into the cold ash. "Because as long as you were Arthur Rossi's daughter, you were just a civilian," Damien said softly, turning back to her. "Anyone could kidnap you, torture you, or kill you to get whatever information your father left behind." He took a step toward her, his tall frame blocking out the warm light of the foyer lamps.

"But now?" Damien continued, his voice dropping into a dangerous register. "Now you are Elena Moretti. You are the wife of the Don. If anyone touches a single hair on your head, it means an all-out war with every family in Europe."

Elena stared at him, her chest rising and falling heavily. The sheer scale of the lie she had

been living for the past three days hit her all at once. She hadn't been traded for her father's life. She had been manipulated like a pawn on a

chessboard. "If you didn't send that letter..." Elena said, her thumb automatically finding the silver tearshaped pendant around her neck, "then who just tricked us into getting married?" Damien didn't answer immediately. He looked down at her fingers resting against the

necklace, his eyes lingering on the silver piece for a fraction of a second before meeting her gaze again.

"Someone who wants me focused on protecting you," Damien said coldly, "while they tear the rest of the city apart."

Before Elena could ask another question, a sharp, buzzing alarm echoed through the house,

flashing red lights along the perimeter walls outside. Mike pulled a silenced handgun from inside his jacket in one fluid motion, stepping toward

the glass doors. "Boss... we've got three vehicles coming up the driveway fast. No flags, no plates."

Damien didn't panic. He calmly reached inside his desk drawer, pulling out a heavy black

pistol and racking the slide with a crisp clack. He turned to Elena, his hand grasping her arm firmly.

"Welcome to the family, Elena," Damien whispered. "Now get upstairs before the real guests arrive."