Page 83 of Wrong Marriage. Right Groom
“After all these years, it’s only fair that something belonging to your family finally ends up in my hands.”
His voice carried a quiet satisfaction that terrified me far more than his anger ever had.
A cold weight settled in my chest.
Not fear alone.
Recognition that I was being moved through a sequence I had not been allowed to fully understand.
I understood enough about the history between our families to know it wasn’t a simple grudge.
The Spanish and Italian mafia have been locked in generations of unending war—an inheritance of rivalry, betrayal, and bloodshed passed down like a cursed legacy that neither side has ever been willing to lay to rest.
Had my family crossed the Pérez family in some unforgivable way?
Had they taken something from him that could never be returned?
And now he wanted me to pay for it.
The uncertainty was driving me insane.
He kept speaking in fragments. In threats. In promises wrapped in riddles.
Never clearly. Never enough.
I needed answers.
I needed to know what my family had done.
Needed to know whether I should spend the remaining hours before tomorrow’s wedding planning my escape instead of my vows.
Because there was still time.
A little time.
Enough to run.
Enough to disappear.
Enough to choose whether marrying Tess’s father for the privilege of remaining in her life was worth whatever revenge Rafael had planned for me.
“There is no running from this, Loretta.”
My breath caught.
The words landed with unnerving precision.
As though he had reached into my head and plucked the thought directly from my mind.
“Not anymore.”
A chill spread through me.
“Ramiro will handle the arrangements,” he continued. “Everything you need for the wedding will be provided.”
The wedding.
The word felt surreal.
