Amara

I can't believe it's been a month since our wedding. The realization hits me when I see Angelina in a wedding dress. Her black, flowing hair and elegant features give her a deadly mob daughter vibe. I appreciate how her dress is similar to mine, except she opted for a heart-shaped neckline, emphasizing her prominent figure.

"You look… beautiful." I stand in front of her, and she gives me a short smile.

"Thank you, Amy."

"Sis, you look gorgeous!" Rosa lets out a loud exclamation as she embraces the bride tightly. Angi wears a frown, and I hold back a smile

"You'll mess up the dress, Rosa."Angi gently pushes Rosa aside, and with an affectionate pat on her hair, Rosa leaves shortly. Now alone, Angi and I wait, expecting Damiano to play the role of her father, leading her to Franco during the ceremony.

We take seats, positioned relatively close to each other. My hands rest on my lap, and my gaze carefully examines the pale blue dress I'm wearing – a color specifically chosen by my husband.

My mind drifts to Damiano and Joseph, pondering the unspoken displeasure and the looming death threats exchanged between them. Despite Joseph's absence from the wedding, a sense of foreboding lingers, and I can't shake off my deep concern for Damiano. There's an ominous feeling surrounding Joseph's refusal to participate that troubles me.

"Is everything alright?" Angi's voice delicately disrupts my reverie, drawing my attention to her.

"Not really." My lips curve slightly, and she sighs.

"Is it because of Damiano? He tends to stir up trouble pretty often." She inquires with a serious tone, showing hints of Emilio in her.

"Damiano… He's sweet to me. I can't stay mad at him." I smile, recollecting the morning's events.

"When I attended your wedding with him, I wasn't sure if you loved him or not. But your expression now, I guess you do love him." She smiles, placing her hand on my lap.

"I do love him…" I feel the weight of my words in my heart. It's true. That's precisely why I have to protect him at all costs.

Angi's expression changes, and I ask, "What's wrong?"

"I somehow wish that my marriage will be a blessing like yours. I don't really love Franco. But I hope I can make it work, so our marriage will please both of us." Her words cut at my heart. I know that not all marriages are based on love. And, it's sad.

"Angi… All I know is that he is a good man. I am sure he won't force you to do anything against your will. Why do you think Damiano agreed to his request?" I brush her hand, and she smiles faintly.

"That little bastard… he knows what he's doing. He did his best to protect me. I guess Franco was the best out of all of them."

"I would say that too, but for me, Damiano is the best." I chuckle, lightening the mood between us, and I can tell she is feeling better. Since our wedding, we've visited her and the rest of Damiano's siblings pretty often. I could say I consider them as close to me as my siblings.

"Of course. He is the best. You're lucky to have my brother." She smiles brightly, and I can tell I am blushing.

The door to Angi's room swings open, and in strides Damiano. My eyes shift towards him, and he wears the same handsome demeanor as he did on our wedding night. Truly, luck is on my side.

"What did you talk about?" he inquires, a hint of curiosity furrowing his brow. I shoot a glance at Angi, widening my eyes as a signal for her not to spill the beans.

"About Franco," she responds with an air of elegance, looking at Damiano with a maternal gaze. "Did you think we were discussing you?"

"Maybe? I mean, Bittercandy is blushing… she couldn't be blushing because of Franco, right?" Damiano frowns, a sly smile playing on his lips as he eyes me. Why does he have to be so perceptive?

"She's blushing because I regaled her with a story from when you were a little kid." Angi's smirk deepens, and I can tell she's enjoying this exchange. Live long, Queen Angelina!

"No, you didn't…"

"Maybe I did. Anyway, let's go and finish this wedding. Franco must be waiting. It's not polite to keep him waiting." Angi rises, shooting me a wink. I stand up, ready to follow the duo.

Damiano escorts Angi, his arm offering a supportive embrace, much like a father leading his daughter to the altar, but it's clear their argument is far from over. Damiano still holds onto the hope that she was lying.

"When are you two gonna stop?" I interject as they both turn their heads to me. I wear a frown, knowing we're nearing the area where people are anxiously waiting.

"We are stopping now ," Angi smiles, and I maintain my frown as Damiano delivers his response.

"Only if you tell the truth."

I sigh and confess, "I told her how lucky I am to have you. Also, how much I love you." I gaze into Damiano's eyes, and he remains silent for a moment before leaning in.

"Prove it."

I sigh once more, directing my gaze to Angi, who looks astonished. Her hand still rests on Damiano's arm, but he seems oblivious to her reaction. I know he won't settle for anything less, so I plant a brief kiss on his lips. He smiles triumphantly and turns towards Angi, his sly grin causing her to frown.

"Did you really have to do that?" She rolls her eyes.

"Does it bother you?" Damiano retorts, and they continue walking forward as I playfully smack his back.

"Quit."

Silently, we approach the entrance of the yard, where Franco awaits at the far end. The priest opens his book, and I glide to a chair near Armando and Miriam, who've secured seats towards the rear.

The wedding unfolds in Franco's backyard, and the delightful aroma of grapes fills the air as my husband guides his sister along the petal-strewn path.

"She looks beautiful!" Mimi remarks, swapping seats with Armando and approaching me.

"Indeed."

"Do I have to go through this one day too?" Her bright smile contrasts with her questioning glance.

"Hmm… if you want?" I doubt Damiano has any intentions of arranging her marriage, and I hope she'll have the freedom to choose her partner.

"I never knew that a girl could do this…" She frowns slightly, and I cast a glance her way.

"Mimi has many things to learn. You might fall in love and marry too. You'll experience many things from now on." My hand gently pats back , and she nods innocently. I wonder if she's prepared for it all. Her childish behavior is maturing slightly, but there's still a long journey until she reaches the true maturity of her age. Her age is pretty close to mine .

"That sounds bloody exciting!" She exclaims, prompting me to cover her mouth. This is precisely why we're at the back of the yard.

"You can't yell," I remind her, sizing her up. Her behavior may be unpredictable, but the more time I spend with her, the more I realize there's a certain predictability in her unpredictability. Sounds strange, but it's true.

Silence falls as Damiano approaches me, his purpose fulfilled. Abruptly, a gunshot pierces the air, jolting the assembly into stillness. Instinctively, my hand reaches for the snug holster from my thigh, retrieving my gun with a practiced ease. My eyes scan the surroundings, capturing a fleeting glimpse of a man vanishing from the balcony.

The crowd gasps, their terror palpable as Damiano collapses to the ground. A surge of anger courses through me, but I suppress it, focusing on the task at hand. Damiano wears a bulletproof vest; he'll be fine. However, retribution is due for the audacious assault on my husband.

Heels discarded, I charge into the building, scaling the stairs with determined strides. The wedding attendees huddle around Damiano, their anxious gazes following my path. Let them chatter about my apparent indifference; Damiano understands the depth of my devotion. Right now, my sole objective is to exact justice on the scoundrel who dared to harm him.

Spotting the assailant on the stairs ahead, I unleash a barrage of shots. He retaliates, and with nimble movements, I evade the oncoming bullets. The hem of my dress tears, granting me increased speed as I reach the pinnacle of the mansion. A corridor with three doors awaits, and I kick open the first, poised for confrontation. Empty.

As I pivot to leave, a force slams into the back of my head. I drop to my knees, fighting off the encroaching dizziness. Determined, I aim my gun at the assailant, though my vision falters. Shots echo, a scream pierces the air, and a curse follows. Despite my efforts, he overpowers me, hands constricting around my throat.

Is this the end?

Gasping for air, head throbbing, darkness encloses me. I realize my lapse in defense, the consequence of my fervent pursuit. My mind, consumed by worry for Damiano, failed to detect the imminent threat.

With a resigned sigh, I accept the impending oblivion. My final thought, as consciousness slips away, is a desperate hope for Damiano's well-being.