Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don

Isabella POV

The silence in the cathedral was heavy, pressing against my eardrums like deep water. I stood on the marble dais, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, but I kept my spine steel-straight. I had thrown the gauntlet at the feet of the most dangerous family in Chicago. Now, I had to wait and see if they would pick it up or cut my throat.

Sofia Moreno didn't blink. The Matriarch of the Outfit studied me, her dark eyes assessing my worth in real-time. She didn't see a heartbroken girl; she saw a problem that needed solving, a leak that needed plugging.

"Very well," Sofia said, her voice carrying to the back of the nave without the aid of a microphone. "The Moreno family honors its debts. If Alexander cannot fulfill his duty, another will take his place."

She turned to the pews, her gaze sweeping over her family like a spotlight. "All unmarried men of the Moreno bloodline. Stand up."

A ripple of unease moved through the congregation. For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then, slowly, two young men rose from the second row.

"Absolutely not!"

The shriek came from Francesca Moreno, a woman draped in enough diamonds to feed a small country. She stood up, clutching the arm of her son, Matteo. Beside her, Lia Moreno also rose, shielding her son, Luca.

"You cannot be serious, Sofia," Francesca hissed, her face flushing an ugly red. "My Matteo is a Capo in training. You want him to take his leftovers?" She gestured vaguely at me as if I were a plate of cold food. "The girl is tainted. Humiliated."

"And whose fault is that?" Sofia's voice was a whip crack. "Your nephew has dragged our name through the mud. Do you want to explain to the Carlsons why we are breaking the Pact? Do you want to be the one to tell the Commission that the Morenos are oath-breakers?"

She took a step closer to them, her small stature suddenly looming large. "Unless you wish to invite a Vendetta that will bury us all, you will sit down and shut your mouth."

Francesca paled. The threat of war was the only language these people respected. She sank back into the pew, releasing her grip on her son.

I watched the two candidates step into the aisle.

Matteo Moreno was twenty-five, built like a linebacker, with a neck thicker than my thigh. He glared at me, his jaw tight. I knew him. He was Alex's cousin, but more importantly, he was Alex's best friend. If I married him, I would be sleeping next to a man who would resent me for taking his friend's place. I would be a prisoner in my own home, likely beaten for every perceived slight against his precious cousin.

Then there was Luca. He was barely twenty, slim and trembling slightly in his expensive suit. He looked at the floor, terrified to meet my eyes. He was an Associate, not even a Made Man yet. He had no power, no spine. If I married him, the wolves in this city would eat us both alive before the honeymoon was over.

A brute or a coward. Those were my options.

Panic clawed at my throat. I had gambled everything on this moment, hoping for a way out, but the house had rigged the deck. If I chose either of them, I was dead. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I would be a victim. And I was done being a victim.

I needed a shield. I needed a weapon. I needed someone so terrifying that even Alex wouldn't dare cross him.

My gaze drifted past Matteo and Luca, past the rows of staring soldiers, and landed on the front pew.

He sat alone, separated from the rest of his family by an invisible barrier of fear and respect. Damien Moreno. The Dark Don.

He hadn't moved during the entire exchange. He sat with the stillness of a predator waiting in the tall grass. His black suit was impeccable, his dark hair silvering at the temples, but his face was a mask of cold, hard indifference. He was a man who had buried a wife and raised a monster for a son. He was the most powerful man in the city, a man whose name was whispered like a curse.

He was looking at the altar, bored, as if this entire charade was beneath him.

A crazy, suicidal thought took root in my mind. It bloomed instantly into a plan.

The Pact required a Moreno. It didn't say it had to be a boy.

I took a breath, filling my lungs with the scent of incense and fear. I looked at Sofia, then at the two boys standing awkwardly in the aisle.

"No," I said.

Sofia frowned. "Isabella, these are your choices. Do not test my patience."

"You said any unmarried Moreno man," I corrected her, my voice gaining strength. "I reject these two."

"You are in no position to be picky," Francesca sneered from her seat.

"I am the bride," I shot back, not looking at her. "And I am choosing the only man in this room who can restore the honor your family lost today."

I lifted my hand. My finger didn't point at Matteo. It didn't point at Luca.

It pointed straight at the man in the front row.

Damien Moreno turned his head slowly. His eyes, dark as obsidian, locked onto mine. The air in the cathedral vanished. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.

"I choose him," I said, my voice ringing with a finality that sealed my fate. "I choose the Don."