SHADOW

CHAPTER FIVE

The footsteps got closer .It was him-Antonio.

He sat down without a word-a careful distance away.

"As the host of the dinner are you meant to be here"I said with a knowing mocking tone,which felt wierd cuz that was the first conversation I'd strike with him since the wedding

What followed was a long silence before he finally said"I'm not a fan of crowds"

"Shouldn't you be with your family"He said with the same mocking tone.

I smiled and finally looked at him,he was staring at the rose-he didn't have his usual cold and haughty expression on.He looked quiet,almost tired-vulnerable even.Something was hiding behind that icy mask he had on all the time,not a monster but a man carrying too much.And somehow that made my heart shift.

He must have noticed because he stood abruptly,turned to leave "Get some rest we are meeting with more people tomorrow.

THE NEXT DAY

The De Cante estate was like a museum tonight-packed again with tailored suits and women dressed like porcelain.I moved through the crowd almost unnoticed,smiling when expected,nodding when spoken to-invisible to most. Antonio hadn't arrived yet.

I stood quietly near the drinks,swirling champagne in a crystal glass, ignoring the murmurs, the stares. Silently observing the guests Then I saw him

Vincent Morelli. Older, silver-haired, respected by some, feared by many, and full of venom masked with charm.

“Holla Milady” he said smoothly, picking up a drink from the tray beside me,"You must be the substitute bride everyone is talking about"

“not saying much tonight I guess.”

I kept my voice soft. “Just observing.”

He let out a low chuckle. “They always send the quiet ones in first. I remember when your sister was meant to stand in your place. Pity. She had a bit more... spine.”

"Funny" He said "history always have a way of repeating itself, doesn't it." "I remembered this was the same that happened with your mother"

I gripped the stem of my glass tighter, my smile starting to falter at the mention of my mother

“I wonder,” he continued, “does your husband know what he really got? A placeholder? A paper girl who flinches too easily?”

Suddenly, the urge was there — to take his wrist and twist until I heard the pop of cartilage. But i couldn't risk it Antonio was already doubting my identity- I couldn't allow this fool let my cover be exposed.

Then—

“Don’t.”

Antonio's voice.

Calm,Commanding and dangerous than a blade at your throat.

Vincent turned, trying to sound casual, unbothered. “I was only talking—”

“She's not interested So don't talk to her "

The room was frozen around us, all eyes quiet. All waiting for a fight to break out.

Vincent then stepped back.

“Of course,” he murmured.

Antonio didn’t even watch him leave. His gaze was locked on me now, not angry… just focused.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

He leaned in slightly, as if making sure I met his eyes. “You didn’t need saving.”

“I know.”

“But I did it anyway.”

He turned and walked off, back into the crowd of wolves in suits.

And I stood still.

Because for a moment, I wasn’t thinking of pretending or hiding but I was thinking about him.

And that scared me more than Vincent ever could.

I stepped out onto the rear balcony to breathe. The party was starting to be suffocating.The night air was cool, brushing over my skin so gently. was lost in thought when the sound of soft footsteps reached me.

I didn’t turn.

“Thought I’d find you here,” came a voice — syrupy with alcohol and arrogance.

Matteo Valez. An acquittance of my sister.Drunk.

He wobbled forward with a smirk and held something out between two fingers. “Gift. From a fan.”

I took the folded paper carefully, instantly recognizing the hurried, narrow handwriting on the outside: S.

My fingers twitched.

But Matteo didn’t walk away. He leaned lazily against the marble railing beside me, too close for comfort.

“You know,” he drawled, “when you walked in tonight, I thought — now there’s a ghost in silk.”

I didn’t answer.

He chuckled. “Your sister had fire. You? You’re… smoke.”

I finally looked at him. “You’re drunk.”

“I’ve been worse,” he said with a shrug. “But I do remember things, . Like the way your sister used to smile right before someone got hurt...”

I said nothing, but my hand curled tight around the paper.

Matteo tilted his head, expression shifting. “Tell me something. Did you come here to be a bride... or a bomb?”

My heartbeat was too loud. Too clear. But my face stayed calm.

“Goodnight, Matteo.”

He gave a mock salute and swayed away, humming something off-key as he disappeared into the shadows of the garden path.