Chapter 3
"Adrian, do not listen to her!" Victoria shrieked, her composed, elegant facade shattering completely. She stepped into his path, her bridal gown swishing violently. "She is a liar! Someone put her up to this to ruin our family!"
Adrian did not even look at his bride. His cold, intimidating eyes remained fixed on the little girl on the floor. He stepped effortlessly around Victoria, his polished shoes crunching softly over something on the marble. He looked down.
Beneath his shoe lay the faded, crumpled photograph Victoria had crushed.
Adrian crouched down, his movements slow and agonizingly deliberate. He retrieved the crushed photograph, smoothing out the creased edges with his thumbs. The bright cinematic sunlight poured over the image, bringing the faces into sharp relief.
It was Elena.
Elena Marlowe, the woman Adrian had loved with a fiery, consuming passion five years ago. The woman who had vanished without a trace, breaking his heart and turning him into the ruthless, cold Mafia boss he was today. In the photograph, Elena was smiling, holding a newborn baby Clara. And resting clearly against Elena’s collarbone was the custom Hale pendant—the exact necklace Adrian had given her the night before she disappeared.
"Elena," Adrian breathed, his deep voice cracking for the very first time. His fair, rosy skin paled as the reality of the photograph settled into his bones.
"She is dead, Adrian!" Richard Ashford bellowed, stepping forward from the crowd.
Victoria’s fifty-eight-year-old father, a powerful capo from an allied Mafia family, moved with aggressive authority. Richard wore a formal three-piece suit, a heavy signet ring, and polished shoes. His face was flushed with anger, desperate to protect the political union of their families.
"This is a setup, Adrian," Richard declared loudly, stepping directly between Adrian and Victoria, shielding his daughter. "Some rival faction dug up a ghost to humiliate us on the day of the merger. Have your men throw those brats into the street."
Adrian slowly stood up, holding the photograph tightly in his fist. He looked at Richard, his eyes dead and hollow.
"She has my eyes," Adrian said softly, pointing at Clara. "And my pendant."
"It's a fake!" Richard roared, his temper flaring at Adrian's blatant disregard for his daughter. Richard violently shoved Adrian backward, his hands slamming into the groom's chest. "You will respect my daughter, you arrogant bastard!"
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Adrian stumbled half a step backward, catching his balance effortlessly. He did not say a word.
Richard, blinded by rage and insulted pride, pulled his arm back and threw a heavy, closed-fist punch, striking Adrian hard across the face.
