The Wife Buried Before the Wedding

Luca did not hesitate.

He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t look toward the head table where his father, Vittorio, was already surrounded by bodyguards.

Luca scooped the little girl into his left arm, grabbed Adriana’s hand with his right, and ran.

They crashed through the heavy oak doors of the ballroom just as the backup generators kicked in, bathing the corridors in a dim, sickly amber light.

“Papa, her arm,” the little girl cried, burying her face in Luca’s tuxedo jacket. “Mommy’s arm was bleeding. The bad man took her down the stairs.”

“I know, Sofia. I’ve got you,” Luca said, his voice trembling.

Adriana’s mind was spinning. Papa. This was Luca’s daughter. The child he never knew he had.

“Luca, what is happening?” Adriana gasped as they sprinted down the velvet-lined hallway toward the estate’s private kitchens. “Why did she say I’m the reason her mother has to die?”

“Because my father doesn’t leave loose ends,” Luca snarled, kicking open the kitchen doors. “And right now, you and Elena are both loose ends.”

The kitchen was empty. The catering staff had fled at the sound of the gunshot. Pots of boiling water hissed on the industrial stoves.

Luca set Sofia down on a stainless-steel prep table. “Are you hurt? Is this your blood?”

“No,” Sofia whispered, her wide, terrified eyes locked on Adriana. “It’s Mommy’s. The man with the scar hurt her.”

Adriana’s blood ran cold. The man with the scar.

Vittorio’s top enforcer. Domenico.

“We have to get out of here,” Luca said, pulling a heavy Glock from a hidden holster under his tuxedo jacket.

Adriana stared at the weapon. The man she married had promised her he was legitimate. A real estate developer. Nothing like his father. Yet he unspooled the safety with the practiced ease of a killer.

“You lied to me,” she whispered.

“I lied to keep you breathing,” Luca fired back, stepping toward the service elevator.

Suddenly, Sofia whimpered and reached into the pocket of her blood-stained white dress. Her small, trembling fingers pulled out a tangled silver object.

She held it out to Adriana. “Mommy said to give this to the bride. She said the bride would know what to do.”

Adriana took the object. Her breath stopped.

It was a silver rosary.

Not just any rosary. The crucifix was bent slightly at the bottom, and the third bead was chipped.

It was her mother’s rosary. The one her mother was supposed to be buried with three years ago.

“My mother’s casket was closed,” Adriana realized aloud, stepping backward. “She died in a car accident. Luca… why does Elena have my dead mother’s rosary?”

Before Luca could answer, the service elevator chimed.

The doors slid open.