THE ITALIAN'S MISTAKEN REVENGE

Sacrifice of the Lamb Walking arm-in-arm with my father, Mauricio Rossetti, I can feel everyone's gaze in the church upon us. This is not just a wedding, much less a union between two lovers; "nothing could be more distant from reality." What the inhabitants of Florence witness today is the end of a war between two families that has lasted more than a hundred years; with this ceremony, we seal the end of the enmity between the Rossetti and the Di Sante. Well, at least that's what's expected. I look ahead and see my future husband with his back turned, waiting for me to reach his side. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mother wiping the corner of her eye, and on the other side, Gianluca Di Sante, my future father-in-law, gives me a pleased look as he sees me walking toward the altar. When I finally reach the altar, I am met with the intimidating gaze of Salvatore Di Sante. My future husband. My father takes my hand and kisses it before placing it on that of this man unknown to me. The priest begins his usual service, and each word feels like it drags me down further; my head screams that it's a mistake, but loyalty to my family weighs more. We Rossetti never let the family down when they need us. Today it's my turn as the only daughter of the patriarch of the Rossetti family, and I will carry it with all the dignity I can, even though the man beside me is detestable. «Why is he? Simple, he's a Di Sante.» The priest calls for our attention, and I realize I've been lost in my thoughts for most of the service. I look at the man in front of me as he takes a platinum ring and says: "I, Salvatore Di Sante, take you, Helena Rossetti, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part." He slides the ring onto my finger and leans in so only I can hear. "And I promise to make every day of your life miserable." I hold my breath and take the ring as he steps back. "I, Helena Rossetti, take you, Salvatore Di Sante, as my detestable husband." Murmurs arise, and he looks at me with a raised eyebrow. The priest clears his throat, and I take a deep breath before continuing. "To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part." "We'll see who buries whom," he whispers as I slide the ring onto his finger. "Sleep with one eye open," I reply in a sing-song voice without losing my fake smile. "May the Lord confirm the consent you have declared before the Church and fulfill in you His blessing. What God has joined together, let no man separate. You may kiss the bride." I hold my breath as he leans in and leaves a kiss on my cheek. At least he didn't touch me with his miserable lips. "Well, wife," he whispers as we walk down the aisle, "welcome to your new life." I nod at the people taking photographs and smiling at us. Outside, there are more people who couldn't enter the ceremony, and a car is waiting to take us to the reception at the Di Sante villa. As the classic car takes us to our destination, following a longer route to give the guests a chance to arrive first, I can't shake the feeling of wanting to flee. When my father informed me that I should return home because I had a task, I didn't think it would be this: to be the wife of a Di Sante. Both families have been enemies since our great-grandparents decided so. Years earlier, the Di Sante and the Rossetti were partners in a chocolate factory that ended with the theft of a recipe. My family claims Di Sante stole from my father's grandfather, while they accuse the Rossetti of being freeloaders. The dispute ended in tragedy. My great-grandfather was murdered, and the Di Sante were blamed for never giving our family recognition for the creation of the most exquisite chocolate factory in Italy. Besides that, each family owns a chain of hotels; of course, they are direct competitors. My father sent me to London when I turned fifteen, and I lived a life away from the conflicts, never allowed to return, only receiving news from a distance about how the family was dying. The last death, that of my father's younger brother many years ago, nearly destroyed him. However, after so many conflicts, it's time to make peace. Now both families face a common enemy. This is just an agreement to prevent any family from joining the Ferretti, a family that wants the financial center of Florence. The car enters the villa and parks in front of the main door. The driver gets out, leaving us alone, where the atmosphere is tense. "Smile, it looks like you're going to a funeral and not to your wedding celebration," Salvatore snaps beside me. "Should I smile because I married you? Tell me, what benefit is there in being married to scum like you?" Before I see it coming, he reaches out and wraps his hand around my neck, causing me to gasp. "So the kitten has claws," he whispers, squeezing a little. I strike his hand, but he doesn't release me, and I meet his gaze. "Let me tell you something, girl," he spits in a serious tone, "I have no patience, and I'm not one of your lackeys, so I suggest you behave, or I won't be very friendly." With that, he releases me, and I gasp for air. "Vaffanculo!" I exclaim, looking at him with hatred. "What a delicate flower," he mocks in response before getting out of the car. I get out of the car and follow him inside the villa. The place is sublime, exuding luxury and comfort. He leads the way as we cross the room, and I ignore the staff bustling around with trays of champagne. I look through the glass, and there are already people waiting to celebrate with the new marriage. «The complete circus.» I stop next to this man I barely know, and we wait in tense silence. This gives me a moment to study his features: dark eyes and hair, strong chin, slightly crooked nose that tells me he's been in more than one fight. He's tall, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. From what my father told me, Salvatore is forty years old, which means there's a seventeen-year age gap! I've never dated someone with such a big age difference. «Well, face it, Helena, you're not dating him; he's your husband, and not by choice.» Dad also mentioned that Salvatore is now the head of the family since his father is suffering from arthritis. His dark eyes bore into me as he notices my scrutiny. «I don't understand his attitude. I mean, yes, our families are doing this as an agreement, but can't we be civilized?» I smooth my hands over my princess-cut wedding dress with an illusion neckline, trying to calm my nerves. In silence, Salvatore offers me his arm, and I know it's time for the show. When I take it, he makes an imperceptible signal, and the double doors open. I sip from my glass and look around, eager to get out of here. "I hope now that you're Salvatore's wife, you know how to take advantage of that for the family." I blink at my father's words as he stops next to me with my mother. "I don't understand what you mean," I whisper. "I did what you asked; we've sealed the peace between both families." He twists his expression. "You need the crown jewel, my dear," he says in a nonchalant tone while in front of us sit Gianluca and Evelina Di Sante, Salvatore's parents. "The head of this family is now your husband," my father continues in a low voice. "Ensure we have the next generation of Rossetti so we can dominate everything." My throat tightens at his words. "Dad, don't ask me that?" "Honey, he's your husband," my mom seconds. "Not by choice, we have nothing in common. My goal is to have a cordial marriage, not what you're planning." "Look, Helena, your husband has two siblings. Renzo and Martina can give the first Di Santi grandchild, and our only chance will go to hell." "I thought this was the end of any conflict." "It is, you just need to have a child with Salvatore." I don't respond; instead, I move away, heading inside the villa in search of a bathroom where I can hide. I wander in search of a private place while the staff ignores my presence and continues with their tasks. I find myself in the middle of a long hallway with its walls lined with artwork; the place feels almost eerie with all those portraits. I'm about to turn around and look for the bathroom signs when I hear a rough moan. I take a step back and bump into a hard body. "Seek and you shall find, little sister-in-law," the cold voice makes me turn, and I find myself with Renzo Di Sante. I swallow. His dark eyes study me mockingly, looking down from his height. "I was just looking for the restroom," I whisper. His almost sinister smile unnerves me, and he nods before looking over my shoulder. I follow his gaze to find Salvatore adjusting his pants; when he notices the two of us, he throws us a deadly look. "I told you," Renzo says in a low voice before turning around and leaving me alone with my newlywed husband who, from what I can see, can't keep his pants on. Do I care? Not at all, but I am a proud woman, and I won't allow the Rossetti name to be dragged down by this man. The door he just came out of opens, but he slams it shut. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your lover?" I cluck my tongue. "How inconsiderate." His expression changes, and he gives me a mocking smile. "You're not going to make a scene, are you?" "No, you see, I am a lady; of course, I doubt you've ever seen one," I continue, ignoring how my blood boils. "I thought at least between us there could be the intention of having a civilized marriage." "Since when have the Rossettis been civilized?" he chuckles. "You'll do as I say." «Really?» "Believe me, making your life easy is not on my agenda," he approaches me slowly, like a predator about to attack its prey. "The only thing we have in common is that neither of us wants this marriage, but it is what it is for now, so I expect you to play your role as a Di Sante wife properly or you'll see how bad it can be if you cross me." I lift my chin and look at him with disdain. "Am I supposed to take your threat seriously?" He gives me an enigmatic smile. "That depends on how smart you are, wife." "Salvatore, Helena," his mother's voice interrupts us, "your father wants you to join the guests." My gaze shifts from Salvatore to the door where the moans were coming from. "Now," the woman insists. "You go ahead, I need to find something first," his tone is harsh, leaving no room for contradiction. I turn around and leave the sinister hallway with Salvatore's mother; however, I remember the reason I came in. "Could you point me to a restroom, please?" She stops and looks at me with her upturned nose. I think she's going to say something rude, but she doesn't; instead, she points to an alternate hallway. "At the end, and don't take long." Not wanting to get into another argument over her order, I walk away, and when I enter the bathroom, I exhale deeply. I approach the sink, and my clear eyes stare back at me. "This is definitely not what I expected."