My mother did not hesitate.
An aging woman with no weapon to defend herself, she threw herself in front of Catherine when the car door was yanked open. The kidnappers had not expected resistance from someone like her. In their panic, one of them drew a knife.
She fought them with nothing but her bare hands and sheer will. She stalled them long enough for the Volkov bodyguards and police to arrive. Catherine was rescued unharmed. The kidnappers were captured.
My mother was the only one left bleeding on the pavement.
Catherine’s face had drained of all color. She knelt beside my mother, holding her hand, urging her to stay conscious while they waited for the ambulance. My mother understood that she would not survive. Even as her strength faded, she worried only about me.
She knew I had admired Vincent for years.
With her last breath, she made Catherine promise that I would one day marry him.
Catherine froze when she heard that request. She knew her son’s heart belonged elsewhere. But as my mother’s raised hand trembled and weakened, Catherine clenched her jaw and gave her word.
Through tears, she swore that she would see me wed to Vincent.
My mother died believing she had secured my future.
At her funeral, people whispered that fate had been cruel but generous at the same time. I had lost my only family, yet I had gained entry into the most powerful crime family in the city. They spoke of wealth, protection, status.
None of them understood that I would have traded all of it just to have my mother back.
My father had died when I was young. My mother and I survived by clinging to each other. She never knew that she was my entire world.
On my wedding day, Catherine held my hands and wept openly. “Your mother can rest peacefully now,” she told me between sobs.
I nodded, though my face felt numb and drained of life.
Vincent played the perfect gentleman in front of the assembled capos and allies. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to believe I had found someone who would eventually grow to love me.
That illusion shattered the moment the guests left.
When we were alone, he leaned close and murmured in a voice so cold it made my blood freeze. “You used your mother’s death to secure this marriage. Are you satisfied? The woman I love is not you. I agreed only because my mother insisted. In public, I’ll act as your husband. In private, my heart belongs elsewhere.”