Contract Wife for the Cartel Heir

Aria’s POV “Where’s the groom?” The question followed me for the fifth time in less than ten minutes. I forced yet another smile at the wedding coordinator standing in front of me. “Probably with his groomsmen”. I knew he wasn’t because one of them had come to ask for him earlier. The woman nodded quickly and hurried off again while two makeup artists circled around me like mosquitoes. My veil had already been adjusted more than three times, my bouquet had changed positions at least six more. Everything was perfect. The ballroom downstairs overlooked the Milan skyline, covered in white roses and gold lights, it was Luca’s idea, he insisted because he wanted our wedding to feel “expensive.” Guests had already started arriving; my phone hadn’t stopped vibrating for the last hour. Congratulatory messages, pictures, voice notes, texts from family friends but no messages from Luca; I had texted him earlier to ask where he was, still no response. I glanced at the clock again, it was three hours before the ceremony. “You’re shaking,” one of the makeup artists said softly. “I’m fine.” I wasn’t, something felt off all morning. Maybe it was nerves, maybe every bride felt like this before getting married. I tried calling Luca again, still no answer. I called my best friend Sofia, we had been besties since our first year, we were seatmates. Sofia had been there through every foster home, every heartbreak, every birthday that felt lonely; we became so close from the first day we met. She knows all about me, she was there before I met Luca, she was our biggest supporter. I really couldn’t be here without her, she was my emotional band aid and I needed her immediately but Sofia wasn’t answering either. A strange knot tightened in my stomach, I prayed and hoped they were safe. “They’re probably together planning something romantic,” another girl said with a laugh while fixing the train of my dress. I smiled weakly, maybe but Luca hated surprises. I stood from the chair before anyone could stop me. “I’ll be back.” “Miss Vale—” “I just need some air.” The hallway outside the bridal suite was quiet and cool, my bridal shoes clicked against the marble floors as I walked past hotel staff and security. I dialed Luca again straight to voicemail, a small line formed between my brows, I was starting to get frustrated. “Seriously?” I muttered. The private floor had been booked for wedding preparations, meaning only family and close friends were supposed to be upstairs. Luca’s room was at the end of the corridor. As I got closer, I slowed, I heard a sound, soft muted laughter, the feeling I had earlier got worse, I wanted to puke. Then a woman’s voice, my chest tightened instantly. No, no, maybe— I stopped outside but very close to the door, another laugh, not just any laugh, a familiar laugh. Sofia. My face turned pale, the blood drained from my face, for a second, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe, my fingers slowly reached for the handle, it was locked. My heart started pounding so hard it hurt, every pain I felt emotionally turned physical. I told myself I was overthinking, there had to be another explanation. Then I heard Luca’s voice, low but careless. “You’re better at this than she is.” Silence, my entire body went numb. The world around me suddenly felt distant, like I was underwater hearing everything from far away. Another sound, a kiss, I stepped back so fast my heel almost slipped against the marble floor. My stomach twisted, no, no, this wasn’t happening, it can’t be happening. I stared at the door while my chest rose unevenly beneath the white silk of my wedding dress. I wanted to burst in, scream, cry, throw something, hit something; but all I felt was cold, a terrifying kind of cold. Inside the room, they laughed again completely unaware I was standing right outside the door listening to my entire life fall apart. Three years, three years with Luca, a man I thought was perfection at its finest and Sofia– a sharp ache hit my chest, I covered my mouth before any sound could escape me, my eyes burned instantly, but I refused to cry there, not outside that door, not for them. I took another step back, then another, quietly and carefully like if I moved too fast, the last bit of strength I had would shatter right there in the hallway. Neither of them noticed, neither of them knew I had been there, good. I turned around and walked away. Not rushed, not dramatic, just gone. The elevator ride down felt endless, my reflection stared back at me from the mirrored walls, pale face, glossy lips, white dress, diamond earrings Luca bought me after our first anniversary. I ripped the earrings off the second the elevator opened. Outside, the cold Milan air hit my skin instantly, my gown wasn’t fully covered. People moved around me without noticing the bride walking alone through the front entrance of a five-star hotel. Cars lined the street, voices echoed. I couldn’t see clearly, the tears fogged my eyes, my breathing became harder, but I kept walking. I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew I couldn’t stay there. My heels hurt, my dress dragged against the pavement, the city lights blurred together. Humiliation burned through me hotter than heartbreak and betrayal. How long had it been happening? How many people knew? Did everyone pity me already? I kept asking myself I wrapped my arms around myself and crossed the street without looking, headlights flashed suddenly, a horn blared loud enough to jolt me out of my trance. Strong hands grabbed my arm hard enough to pull me backward just as a black car sped past. My breath caught. “What the hell are you doing?” The voice was unfamiliar, cold, controlled and deep. I looked up instantly and forgot how to breathe. Tall, dark suit, sharp jaw, dark eyes so intense they felt dangerous. His grip remained firm around my wrist as his gaze swept over me like he was making a purchase at a slave market, then his eyes stopped on the wedding dress, an unreadable expression crossed his face. “You almost got yourself killed,” he said flatly. I swallowed hard, for some reason, this stranger looked far more dangerous than the car that almost hit me.