Chapter 3 - THE BRIDE'S ROSARY
Claire stood in the center of the stage, the heavy handgun perfectly steady in her grip. The diamonds on her wedding dress caught the chandelier’s light, contrasting sickeningly with the dark steel of the weapon.
“Claire, drop the gun,” Adrian commanded. The shock of his brother’s return and Sophia’s parentage had momentarily paralyzed him, but now the mafia boss was back. His voice was low, laced with absolute authority.
Claire let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “Don't give me orders, Adrian. You don't own me anymore. You never did.”
Sophia stood completely still. The barrel of the gun was aimed squarely at her heart. She could hear the frantic whispers of the guests, the shuffling of shoes as people tried to press themselves flat against the ballroom walls.
“I don’t understand,” Sophia breathed, her eyes darting between Adrian and the woman in the white dress. “You ordered her killed? Why?”
“Because she isn't who she says she is,” Adrian said. He took a slow, deliberate step toward Claire. “Her name isn't Claire Vance. She’s an assassin. Placed in my inner circle by my father.”
Julian clapped slowly, the sound mocking in the tense silence. “Brilliant, brother. You figured it out. But you were too slow. You married her today. You signed the estate documents this morning. Half of the Cross empire legally belongs to her now.”
“It belongs to my father, you mean,” Adrian spat.
Claire kept her eyes locked on Sophia. “Marcus sends his regards, Adrian. He was very disappointed to learn you had a bastard daughter running around the city. He told me to handle it. That's why I sent the men to your apartment last night, Sophia.”
Sophia’s mind spun. The voice on the recording—it hadn’t been Adrian ordering her death. It had been Adrian ordering Claire's death, trying to eliminate the threat before the wedding. But he had failed.
“You didn’t know I wasn’t home,” Sophia said to Claire, her voice surprisingly steady. “Your men shot up an empty apartment.”
“A minor setback,” Claire smiled coldly. “I'm correcting it now.”
“Wait!” Julian stepped between Claire and Sophia.
Everyone froze. Why would Julian protect her?
“Move, Julian,” Claire warned. “Marcus promised me the southern territory if I clean up this mess. Don't interfere.”
“I’m afraid I have to,” Julian said calmly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a delicate, wooden rosary. The beads were worn smooth from years of prayer. A small silver cross dangled at the end.
Claire’s breath hitched. For the first time, the gun wavered. “Where did you get that?”
“You recognize it, don’t you, Isabella?” Julian asked softly.
Sophia frowned. Isabella?
Claire’s face twisted in rage. “Don't use that name! Give me the rosary!”
“It belonged to your older sister,” Julian said to the crowd, but his eyes never left Claire. He turned his head slightly toward Sophia. “Elena wasn't an only child. She had a little sister who was taken in by Marcus’s people after Elena disappeared.”
Sophia felt the floor drop out from under her. She stared at Claire. The shape of her jaw, the dark, intense eyes. Underneath the heavy bridal makeup, the resemblance was undeniably there.
“You're... you're my aunt?” Sophia whispered.
Claire’s eyes filled with sudden, angry tears. “Elena abandoned me! She ran off with this monster,” she gestured violently at Adrian, “and left me in the slums. Marcus found me. Marcus raised me. He gave me a purpose.”
“He turned you into a weapon,” Adrian corrected quietly. “He used your grief to mold you into something he could control. And then he sent you to kill the only family you have left.”
“She is not my family!” Claire screamed, aiming the gun back at Sophia.
Julian tossed the rosary onto the floor at Claire’s feet. It landed with a soft, hollow clatter against the marble.
“Pick it up,” Julian challenged. “Look closely at the back of the cross, Isabella. Look at what Elena carved into it the night she ran away.”
Claire stared at the wooden beads. Her hand was shaking violently now. Slowly, against her own will, she lowered the gun. She crouched down, her massive dress pooling around her like a white cloud, and picked up the rosary.
She turned the silver cross over.
Sophia watched as Claire’s face crumbled. The cold assassin vanished, replaced by a broken, grieving woman. A choked sob escaped Claire’s lips.
“What does it say?” Sophia asked, stepping forward despite the danger.
Claire looked up, her makeup running down her cheeks. “It says... 'For Izzy. I will come back for you.'”
“She tried,” Adrian said, his voice filled with heavy sorrow. “Elena spent the last five years of her life trying to find you. But Marcus had changed your name. He hid you perfectly. She died of cancer thinking you were dead.”
Claire let out a gut-wrenching cry and dropped the gun. It hit the floor heavily.
Adrian immediately kicked the weapon off the stage. He motioned to his guards, who finally stepped forward, placing themselves between the guests and the stage.
Sophia exhaled, her knees buckling slightly. Adrian reached out to catch her, but she flinched away from his touch. The betrayal was still too raw, the truth too horrifying. He was her father. The man she had kissed. The man she had loved. She felt sick.
“Don't touch me,” Sophia hissed, backing away from him.
Adrian’s face fell. He withdrew his hand, looking utterly defeated. “Sophia... I didn't know. I swear on my life, when we were together, I just thought you were a beautiful woman who reminded me of the only person I ever truly loved. The moment I found out the truth—last month, when my men found Elena’s medical records—I ended it. I couldn't tell you. I couldn't burden you with the guilt.”
Sophia covered her mouth, fighting back a sob. It made sick sense. The abrupt breakup. The sudden coldness. He was trying to protect her from the psychological horror of what they had done.
Julian watched them, his expression unreadable. “A tragic family reunion. But the night is far from over.”
“It is over, Julian,” Adrian said, regaining his posture. “Claire is disarmed. Marcus’s plan failed. You can leave now.”
Julian laughed. It was a dark, echoing sound. “Marcus’s plan failed. But mine hasn't even started.”
Julian snapped his fingers.
The three guards standing at the edge of the stage suddenly turned around. They drew their weapons, but they didn't point them at Julian.
They pointed them directly at Adrian and Sophia.
The ballroom erupted into screams again.
Julian smiled, adjusting his cuffs. “Did you really think I came back from the dead just to play family counselor, Adrian?”
Julian reached into his pocket and pulled out a child’s drawing. It was folded and slightly crumpled. He held it up.
It was a crayon drawing of a house with a yellow sun and a little girl standing next to a big dog.
Sophia’s blood turned to ice. She couldn't breathe. The room spun wildly.
“Where did you get that?” Sophia shrieked, lunging forward.
Julian stepped back, letting the guards raise their guns to her chest.
“She’s a lovely little girl, Sophia,” Julian said softly. “Lily, isn't it? Six years old. Looks just like her grandmother.”
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Sophia let out a primal scream. “If you touch my daughter, I will kill you!”
“I already have her,” Julian smiled.
