Black Veil Dynasty: The Devil’s Widow

Seraphina walked down the aisle alone. The cathedral was chilly and filled with foes who looked like they were there as guests. Black dahlias shook in her hands, and the rain slammed the stained glass. People whispered as she passed. His brother's widow. She'll kill this one, too. She held her head high and had a neutral expression on her face. At the altar, Lucien Moretti stood as if he were made of stone. No smile. Just dark eyes that followed her every move. He seized her left hand and placed it in the centre, feeling the weight of the ring with its golden texture sinking into her skin. He leaned in close, his mouth next to her ear, speaking softly like a whisper. “If you betray me, I’ll make sure you end up next to him.” Seraphina turned her head. For a brief moment, they looked directly at each other. She could smell the whiskey and rain on him. She smiled, shining and flawless, for the audience. “Then you'd finally have us both.” His hand twitched on hers, just a flicker. Then it disappeared, and the priest began to speak. Lucien kissed her cheek, like a man who had made a promise he already wished he hadn't. Thunder cracked. It was done. The reception hall was filled with the warm glow of candles and soft black velvet. A group of four musicians playing string instruments performed a piece that was slow and had a sad feeling. Seraphina was next to Lucien, resting her hand on his arm, taking on the part of a bride. He hadn't spoken to her at all since they walked away from the altar. Dante Belladonna found them first. He twirled his champagne, his eyes shining with a wicked glint. “That was a daring choice, Lucien.” Marrying the woman who buried your brother.” Lucien didn't blink. “Careful, Dante. My wife is standing right here.” The room around them went still. Dante's smile became more intense, but he stepped back. Others followed him, speaking more gently now, their congratulations feeling very insincere and weak. Seraphina held onto Lucien's sleeve more firmly. “You didn't need to say that.” “Yeah,” he replied, still not looking at her. “I did.” She wasn't certain whether he intended it to be a way to protect her or a way to control her. Whenever they were together, the two of them always shared the same feelings. The last guests fled into the storm. Seraphina stood next to a big window, looking at lightning flash across the sky. She heard Lucien's footsteps behind her.“The car is ready,” he said. “Where are we going?” “Home.” That word landed like a stone. Home was the Moretti estate, where she had spent two years as Leone's wife and just one day as his widow. In the place where the hallways still had the scent of his cologne, the staff still addressed her as Madam, their voices filled with disapproval. She turned. Lucien was standing by the door with his collar unbuttoned, and a dark curl fell loosely over his forehead. He appeared weary in a way that wasn't related to lack of sleep. “My things?” she asked. “Already moved.” Of course. He set everything up the way he wanted and thought everyone else should follow his lead. She walked past him. His hand rested gently on her lower back, firm yet gentle, as he led her out into the rain. The car slid through wet streets. Verona looked like a mix of grey stone and streetlights, getting lost in the storm. Seraphina looked at her reflection in the window. A pale woman in a black dress. The Devil's Widow. Now married to Lucifer himself. The heavy iron gates of the estate creaked as they opened. The mansion stood tall and dark, its windows glowing bright yellow in the night. Dead ivy clung to the walls. The fountain in the courtyard was empty and full of leaves. The car stopped, Lucien stepped out, and offered his hand. She took it. His hand was warm and strong, and he released it the moment her shoes touched the gravel. Inside, the entrance area was made of marble and felt dark and cold with still air. The chandelier cast long shadows along the staircase. A servant took her coat but didn’t look her in the eyes. Lucien was already on his way. “Your room is the east suite,” he said, his tone emotionless. “It’s the same one.” The same one she had shared with Leone. He wanted her to understand that he still remembered. That she wouldn't either. He went up the stairs without turning around, and his steps slowly disappeared into the dark house. Seraphina stood alone in the marble hall. Rain beat the windows. The chandelier hummed. And in a far part of the mansion, a door quietly closed that she was aware had been locked for many years. She followed him up.