Chapter Two: The Reveal
766 Words
My intended husband did not attend the wedding.
The priest said he’d been informed to proceed with the ceremony. One look at Papa through the veil thrown over by bead, said he knew too.
I’d been lied to once again.
The ceremony was brief. Just like my dreams. And then I was ushered into a black, sleek Mercedes with tinted windows, without a moment to say goodbye.
I lean back, closing my eyes as I force myself to remain calm. “Panicking isn’t going to change anything, Belinda,” I mutter under my breath. “You're a Rossi. This is what you’re supposed to do.”
Duty. Responsibility. Like Papa said, I’m only playing my part.
The ride goes on for what seems like forever. I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to see anything outside the window. It’s no longer my life. This is my new life now.
I open them when I feel the car slowing down, gazing through the window at a line of tall trees. There’s nothing else for another couple minutes…and then it turns into an open, bright space.
A fountain.
It’s the first thing that catches my eye.
It’s in the shape of a giant lion, with both paws raised. Then a garden. Far bigger than Mama’s, but without the pretty roses.
“We’re here, Miss.”
My door opens before I can reach for it, and an unformed man with a polite smile holds out a hand. I take it. “Thanks,” I mumble.
He nods. “You’re welcome, Miss. Don Moretti has asked that I take you inside. He’s waiting for you in his study.”
The driver grabs a tiny duffle bag from the trunk, heading for the house ahead of us.
Don Moretti. My eyes squint slightly as I tilt my head. I don’t have time to think, because he’s already walking away, leaving me to catch up with him.
But the name. It sounds so familiar.
The double French doors swing into a grand foyer—three times the size of ours back home. The walls are a dull gray color, but the chandelier catches my attention and my breath.
I stop, without thinking, watching the lights bounce off the gemstones.
“Miss?”
My gaze snaps forward. The man—butler—is staring at me. “The Don…he’s not a man to be kept waiting, I’m afraid.”
I nod quickly, moving on to catch up with him. “I’m sorry.”
I keep my head down the rest of my way, as my pulse races and roars in my ears. I know three things about my husband now. His name, Moretti. His title, Don. And that I might’ve married an impatient man.
The butler stops in front of a door, knocking once. Then he pushes the door open, then steps back, sweeping a hand out.
“You can go in.”
In?
I stare into the room. It’s pitch black, without a single trace of light. I glance at him, confused. “You want me to go inside?”
He nods.
I take a breath and step inside. The door slams shut behind me, the sound sharp enough to make my heart stutter. I freeze where I stand, the silence pressing in.
Seconds pass. Nothing.
What am I supposed to do?
“I—”
A light flickers on, dim and unsteady, coming from a lamp beside a desk I hadn’t noticed before.
I squint, stepping forward—the chair moves.
The quiet roll of wheels cuts through the room as it emerges from the shadows, circling the desk with slow precision.
It glides to the wall.
I flinch, raising a hand to shield my eyes as brightness crashes over me.
“Miss Rossi.” His voice is low, rough, making my pulse stutter. “I’m Cassian Luca Moretti.”
I lower my hand and finally see him. He’s in a wheelchair. But that’s not what makes my breath catch.
It’s the scar. A deep, jagged line cuts across his face—from his left eye, down to his cheek—raw, merciless, impossible to ignore.
A horrified gasp slips from my lips before I can stop it. I slap a hand to my mouth. “I’m…I’m so sorry.”
“Most people try to hide their revulsion better,” he says, his voice even.
I swallow. Is this why he didn’t show up at the wedding?
“You’ll learn quickly, I’m sure.” His eyes hold mine, his lips slightly curling. “After all, this is now your home.”
- Writer
