Too Late, I Married The Mafia King

Aria POV

The crowd parted as Bianca walked toward the token pavilion with the practiced grace of a monarch.

She reached into the velvet box and pulled out a small, sealed envelope. With a grand, theatrical motion, she tore it open and held up the pristine, velvet-petaled Crimson Rose for everyone to see.

A roar of approval went up from Silas's loyal Soldiers.

Bianca walked back toward us, pressing the bloom to her nose.

"It smells like victory," she whispered as she passed me. She paused right at the edge of the deep, stone fountain behind me.

She looked at my cheap dress, then at the silver rosary still wrapped around my hand.

Then, her eyes glinting with a sharp, calculated malice, she took a deliberate step backward.

Her heel caught the lip of the stone basin.

Before I could even blink, Bianca threw her arms in the air and launched herself backward into the freezing water of the fountain.

"Help!" she screamed, thrashing in the water. "She pushed me! Aria pushed me!"

A few onlookers exchanged uncertain glances; I heard a young soldier behind me mutter, "But I saw her jump—" before his companion elbowed him sharply into silence. Truth was irrelevant when power demanded otherwise.

The music died with a screech. The courtyard erupted into chaos.

I stood, staring at the splashing water in disbelief.

The air behind me was torn apart. Before I could place the familiar scent of his cigar, a hand seized my shoulder, the pressure threatening to crush the bone, and spun me around.

Silas's palm cracked across my cheek with a force that rattled my teeth.

The impact threw me to the ground. The hard ground scraped the skin from my knees, but the true devastation was the sound of the Vendetta Rosary striking the stone. The silver chain snapped, and the beads scattered like fallen tears across the unforgiving ground.

"Are you out of your mind?" Silas roared.

He reached down and gripped my wrist, hauling me back to my feet. His fingers dug into my flesh, leaving bruises that would bloom by nightfall.

"You jealous, psychotic bitch!" he yelled, making sure every single person in the syndicate could hear him. "Are you really that desperate? You try to drown my sister-in-law because you know you are nothing to me?"

My father, Arthur, let out a raw, broken shout. He tried to lunge at Silas to protect me, but the sudden movement caused him to hack violently. Bright red blood splattered onto his chin.

Silas ignored him.

"I am going to tame you right here," Silas snarled.

He grabbed the collar of my dress.

And he pulled downward with all his brutal strength.

The cheap fabric ripped with a loud, sickening sound. The tear went from my collarbone all the way down to my shoulder, exposing my bare skin and the plain strap of my undergarment to the cold air.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

It was swiftly followed by the low, leering laughter of the Soldiers standing around us. The sound made my skin crawl.

"Please, Silas, stop," I begged, my voice trembling as I tried to pull the torn fabric up to cover myself.

Silas laughed. He let go of me and stepped back, looking at my exposed shoulder with disgust.

"You act so tough, but you break over a torn piece of cloth," he mocked. "Go get your token, Aria. Show everyone what you really are."

Arthur dragged himself upright, blood still dripping from his chin, and fixed Silas with a glare. "You forget, Silas," he wheezed, "that I taught half these Soldiers how to shoot. Touch her again, and I will remind them who their real teacher was."

Arthur collapsed onto his knees, his breathing a ragged, painful sound.

"Aria, just come home," my father wheezed, tears streaming down his weathered face. "Leave the drawing. I will protect you. I will protect you as long as I breathe."

I looked at my dying father. Then, I looked at the hundreds of ruthless mobsters laughing at my humiliation.

I wrapped my arms around my chest, holding my torn dress together, and walked with measured steps up to the pavilion.

I reached into the velvet-lined box.

I pulled out the last remaining envelope.

I opened it, and a crushed, wilted White Carnation fell into my palm.

My legs gave out. I hit the wooden floor of the pavilion, buried my face in my hands, and finally broke down into loud, desperate sobs. The sound was swallowed by a new, absolute silence that fell like a blade—a silence I recognized only when a shadow blocked the sun above me.