FIORELLA’S POV
I hadn’t seen Papa since he sold me to Rhys, and suddenly every ugly memory of that day I had spent time trying to bury came rushing back.
Along with a surge of anger so sharp it made my chest ache.
I stood beside him and slipped my hand through his arm, while Mariah walked into the church.
He frowned at me when we were alone. “What do you have that face for, Fiorella?”
I didn’t respond.
“Do you know how much power you’re marrying into today?” he asked.
“I don’t want power,” I shot back, unable to hold my anger. “I was very satisfied with the life I built for myself. No thanks to you.”
“Are you talking to your father in that tone?”
I turned to look at him. “What are you going to do? Hit me before I walk down that aisle? Sell me off again? Or beat me?”
“Fiorella—
