Casey wasn't sure what was more absurd: the fact that she was about to marry Ivan Park—or the fact that she was actually considering it.
The wedding rehearsal had been chaotic. Luca had somehow convinced her to wear a ridiculous pink dress (she looked like a literal cupcake), while Ivan had simply rolled his eyes, muttering about how everything had to be perfect because "it's my wedding, too."
Yet, as the sun rose on the morning of the supposed ceremony, Casey couldn't shake the feeling that things were far from perfect. Everything seemed off—like a clock ticking too loudly, warning her of something inevitable.
As she stared at herself in the mirror, dressed in an extravagant white gown, her thoughts drifted back to that night in the library when Ivan had confided in her. He killed her.
The weight of his words hovered over her. His father—that man—had taken everything from Ivan. Including the chance to truly be free.
Her fingers brushed against her belly. There was something inside her she had to protect. Not just the child. But Ivan, too.
But she couldn't shake the feeling that her involvement in this world—this mafia world—was slowly killing her from the inside.
"I'm not marrying you," she whispered to her reflection.
Then, she heard a knock on the door.
"Casey?" It was Ivan's voice, rough, hesitant. "Are you ready?"
She swallowed hard. "Ready for what?"
He stepped in, the door creaking behind him, and locked his eyes onto hers. "This isn't just about a child. You know that, right?"
She nodded, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "Yeah. I know."
There was silence between them. Neither one of them wanted to speak first. He was fighting something inside him, just like she was. But this wasn't love. Not yet.
"I'll make you a deal," he said suddenly. "We'll get through today. But after this… we'll do things our way."
His way?
"Your way?" she asked, a slight laugh escaping her lips. "You mean with threats, violence, and destroying people?"
"Not all of it. But yes," Ivan said with a small grin that didn't reach his eyes.
She sighed. "So, we pretend, then? That we're some happy couple while the world burns?"
"It's not a lie if you're the one who's keeping the fire burning," he said quietly, walking closer to her.
Her breath hitched in her throat as he reached out, brushing her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering a little longer than necessary. The tension between them was undeniable, the air thick with unspoken feelings.
"Ivan—" she started to speak, but he cut her off, a sharp look in his eyes.
"I won't lie to you, Casey," he said, almost too intensely. "I may not be the man you expect. But I'll keep you safe."
He was too close. Too close for comfort.
"You think I need you to protect me?" she asked, voice rising. "I'm carrying your child, Ivan. But that doesn't mean I need you to save me."
He backed away slightly, not because she'd pushed him, but because the words had hit a nerve. His expression darkened, and he rubbed the back of his neck.
"You think you're just a pawn in my game, don't you?" Ivan said, his voice almost a whisper.
"I don't know what I am anymore," Casey said, turning to face the window. "But this... this is starting to feel like a cage."
There was a pause, then Ivan's rough voice broke the silence.
"You can't run from this, Casey," he said, his words heavy with meaning. "This life… it's a prison, but it's the one I built for you. It's the one we built."
She turned to face him, her heart hammering in her chest. "If that's the truth, then why do you keep running from me?"
For a moment, Ivan didn't answer. His gaze softened, just a little, as if he was letting himself feel something. But before either of them could react, a knock came at the door.
"Wedding's about to start, princess," Luca called, voice dripping with mock sweetness.
The ceremony itself was anything but a fairytale.
Casey stood at the altar, Ivan by her side, his hand gripping hers tightly, as if he were afraid she might slip away. She couldn't help but notice the way his jaw clenched whenever he looked at her. There was more to this than the baby, more than the mafia legacy. There was something that twisted inside him—a mixture of regret, anger, and a strange, unwelcome affection.
As the priest spoke, Casey's mind drifted back to Ivan's father—the man who had cursed this family. She couldn't help but feel the weight of his presence, the shadow of his influence hanging over them all like a guillotine.
The vows came, and the words were just... words. Nothing that made her heart race or her soul stir. There was no love here—only survival.
"I do," she whispered mechanically.
"I do," Ivan responded, his voice low and flat.
But as soon as they were declared husband and wife, the weight of the moment was shattered.
Luca, always the troublemaker, suddenly jumped to his feet. "A toast to the happy couple!" he cheered, raising a glass.
Casey half-smiled, but it was a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She wasn't happy. How could she be?
Her eyes scanned the room, looking for something—someone—to make sense of all this.
And then, she saw him.
Across the room, standing in the shadows, was a man with dark, piercing eyes and a knowing smile. He wasn't part of the mafia. He wasn't part of this world at all.
But he was here. And Casey had no idea who he was or why he was watching her so intently.
The night dragged on, filled with forced smiles, awkward glances, and a growing sense of dread.
As Casey slipped away for a moment of solitude in the garden, she couldn't shake the feeling that the worst was still to come.
The darkness surrounding her wasn't just from the shadows cast by the mansion—it was from the life she was trapped in, the life she had to endure for the child inside her. And yet, no matter how much she fought against it, she couldn't stop herself from wondering if she could ever escape this.
"Ivan," she whispered to the night, "What have we done?"