The Bride They Should Never Have Betrayed

Vivienne didn’t resist as Salvatore dragged her through the hidden passage.

The heavy iron door slammed shut behind them, cutting off the screams and the deafening crack of gunfire in the ballroom. They were plunged into the damp, echoing darkness of the cathedral’s catacombs. The air smelled of old stone and lit copper.

“Keep moving,” Salvatore urged, flicking on a small flashlight. His breathing was ragged, his age finally showing through the cracks of his ruthless facade.

Vivienne stopped dead in her tracks, her heavy wedding gown dragging in the dirt. She held up the silver pocket watch, the beam of the flashlight catching the photograph inside.

“Explain this,” she demanded, her voice shaking with a rage so profound it eclipsed her fear. “Right now. Or I swear to God, Salvatore, I will shoot you where you stand.”

She leveled her gun at his chest.

Salvatore didn’t flinch. He looked at the barrel of the gun, then up to her face.

“Her name was Elena,” he said softly. “She wasn’t part of this life. She was a teacher. Kind. Brilliant. And I loved her more than my own soul.”

“My file says my father died in a car crash before I was born,” Vivienne choked out, the gun trembling in her grip.

“Your file is a lie built by the State to keep you hidden,” Salvatore replied bitterly. “My father, the old Don, found out about Elena. He demanded I marry within the families. When I refused, he ordered a hit on her. I barely got there in time to save you.”

Vivienne felt the walls spinning. “You’re my father.”

“I gave you up so you would live,” Salvatore said, his voice breaking. “I placed you in the foster system under a false name and paid off the agents to scrub your records. I watched you grow up from the shadows. When you joined the academy, I was so proud. I thought you were safe.”

“If I was hidden,” Vivienne whispered, the horrific realization dawning on her, “how did Antonio find me?”

“Because Antonio is his grandfather’s true heir,” Salvatore spat, disgust lacing his words. “He inherited the madness. He discovered the truth six months ago. He knew who you were before you ever went undercover.”

Vivienne’s stomach violently rejected the thought. The dates, the accidental meeting at the coffee shop, the whirlwind romance. Antonio hadn’t fallen for her. He had hunted her.

“He married you to mock me,” Salvatore continued. “To secure his claim to the throne by tying my true bloodline to his, and to frame me for the collapse of the commission. The evidence you collected? The bank records? The names?”

“He fed them to me,” Vivienne realized, horror washing over her. “Antonio planted every single piece of evidence I found. He used my badge to do his dirty work.”

“And now, your agency will think you went rogue, and my men will think I turned rat,” Salvatore said.

A sudden, terrifying sound echoed down the stone corridor.

Footsteps. Heavy, rhythmic, and numerous.

Antonio’s men had breached the tunnels.

Salvatore pushed her forward, leading her deeper into the catacombs until they reached a heavy wooden door tucked behind a crumbling crypt. He shoved his shoulder against it, breaking the rusted lock.

They stumbled into a small, dust-covered bunker. It looked like it had been stocked decades ago with canned food and old radios.

But it wasn’t empty.

Sitting in the corner, clutching a faded blue blanket, was a little boy. He couldn't have been more than seven years old. He had messy dark hair, huge, terrified brown eyes, and a fresh bruise on his cheek.

Vivienne froze. “Who is that?”

The boy scrambled back against the wall, shaking violently.

Salvatore dropped to one knee, ignoring the pain in his old joints. “It’s okay, Leo. It’s me. Grandpa’s here.”

The boy hesitated, then threw himself into Salvatore’s arms, burying his face in the old man’s suit.

Vivienne stared. “Grandpa?”

Leo peeked out from Salvatore’s shoulder. He looked at Vivienne’s torn white dress, then at her face. His eyes widened.

He reached into his small pocket with a trembling hand and pulled out a tarnished gold locket. He popped it open and held it out to her.

“Are you the lady from the picture?” the child whispered.

Vivienne took a step closer, looking at the locket. Inside was a picture of her. Not Elena. Vivienne. Taken graduation day at the police academy.