Chapter 3 - The Wedding That Wasn’t Supposed to Happen
June reached the hospital before fear became anger.
Her mother was alive.
That was the first fact.
Conscious.
That was the second.
No gunshot.
No stabbing.
No mysterious attacker.
Rose Bellante had slipped on the back steps after discovering two men outside her house and trying to confront them with a broom.
June stared at Matteo.
“Your security caused this.”
Rose, lying in the emergency room with a sprained wrist, interrupted.
“Nonsense. The algae on those steps caused it.”
“Ma.”
“And I nearly got one of them.”
Matteo stood near the wall.
“Yes, Mrs. Bellante.”
Rose pointed at him.
“The tall one runs fast.”
“I’ll inform him.”
June closed her eyes.
This could not be her life.
Rose looked between them.
“So this is him?”
June opened her eyes.
“Him?”
“The fiancé.”
Matteo straightened.
June stared at her mother.
“How do you know?”
Rose looked offended.
“You think I don’t notice my daughter suddenly has money for the mortgage and starts hiding legal documents in a lasagna cookbook?”
Matteo looked at June.
“Lasagna cookbook?”
“Not now.”
Rose smiled at him.
“You’re handsome.”
“Ma.”
“What? He is.”
Matteo gave Rose the first genuinely awkward expression June had ever seen.
“Thank you.”
Rose lowered her voice.
“Are you actually a gangster?”
June nearly dropped the water cup.
Matteo considered the question.
“I own several businesses.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“Ma!”
Rose shrugged.
“If I’m getting kidnapped, I’d like accurate terminology.”
“You are not getting kidnapped,” Matteo said.
His voice had changed.
Firm.
Almost offended by the possibility.
Rose studied him.
“Good.”
She leaned back.
“You can marry her.”
June stared.
“I’m so relieved.”
Two hours later, Rose was discharged.
Matteo arranged for a private nurse and security Rose approved personally after interrogating all four guards about their mothers, education, and eating habits.
At dawn, June stood alone in a hospital restroom staring at herself.
Her wedding was scheduled in three hours.
The anonymous warnings had escalated.
Matteo had a dead woman somewhere in his past.
His family despised the marriage.
And June had somehow agreed to wear the red gown.
She still did not understand why.
Maybe defiance.
Maybe stupidity.
Maybe because the person who sent it expected humiliation.
June refused to cooperate.
At nine thirty, she entered a private courtroom wearing scarlet.
Matteo was waiting.
His expression stopped her.
Not because he looked shocked.
Because he looked unable to hide it.
The red gown transformed June.
The fitted bodice was embroidered with flowers.
The skirt swept behind her.
The white veil felt almost ridiculous, but Rose had insisted over video call from her sofa.
“You came,” Matteo said.
“You sound surprised.”
“I wasn’t certain.”
“Neither was I.”
The judge entered.
Matteo’s attorney, Daniel Russo, stood as witness.
Another clerk closed the doors.
The ceremony lasted seven minutes.
June had processed hundreds of marriage licenses.
She knew the language.
She had heard vows through courthouse walls.
She had watched couples laugh, cry, kiss, argue over spelling mistakes.
Yet when the judge asked whether she took Matteo Antonio DeLuca as her lawful husband, June hesitated.
One second.
Maybe two.
Matteo looked at her.
He did not pressure.
Did not move.
June remembered the photograph of her mother.
The threatening card.
The red dress.
The twelve-month contract.
She also remembered Matteo offering to abandon everything.
“I do.”
Matteo’s answer came immediately.
“I do.”
The judge signed.
June signed.
Matteo signed.
Daniel witnessed.
And just like that, June Bellante became June DeLuca.
Matteo looked at the certificate.
“So it’s done.”
June exhaled.
“Romantic.”
He glanced at her.
“We could pretend.”
“Please don’t.”
His mouth curved.
Then Daniel’s phone buzzed.
The attorney checked the screen.
His smile disappeared.
“Matteo.”
“What?”
“We have a problem.”
Daniel showed him an email.
June saw an attachment.
A photograph.
The private ceremony.
Taken through the courtroom door.
Someone had leaked it already.
The caption beneath the image read:
MAFIA HEIR MARRIES COURTHOUSE CLERK IN SECRET RED-DRESS CEREMONY.
Matteo took the phone.
“Who published it?”
“Small gossip site. It’ll spread.”
June’s own phone vibrated.
Then again.
Again.
Six notifications.
Twelve.
Twenty.
Someone had posted her name.
Her job.
Her mother’s address.
Matteo reached for her phone.
She pulled it away.
“I can read.”
Comments filled the screen.
Gold digger.
Paid bride.
Witness protection joke.
How much did DeLuca buy her for?
One comment stopped June.
It came from an anonymous account.
ASK HER WHY SHE THINKS SHE’LL LAST LONGER THAN ELENA.
June looked at Matteo.
“Elena.”
He went still.
“That’s the woman.”
Daniel turned away.
That told June enough.
“Who was she?”
Matteo’s gaze shifted to the judge.
“Not here.”
“Convenient.”
“June.”
“No. We’re married now. Apparently the internet knows before my coworkers do. Tell me.”
His face hardened.
“Elena was my fiancée.”
June’s stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“She died.”
“How?”
Matteo’s silence answered before his words did.
“Car explosion.”
June stared.
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
“And you think your family had something to do with it?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
Too immediate.
June stepped closer.
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
Matteo did.
Pain appeared.
Brief.
Real.
“She died because someone wanted to hurt me.”
The courtroom seemed smaller.
June whispered, “And you asked me to marry you anyway?”
“I believed that danger was gone.”
“You believed?”
“Yes.”
“Based on what?”
“Because the man responsible is dead.”
June’s phone vibrated again.
She looked down.
Unknown number.
One message.
HE WASN’T RESPONSIBLE.
Another arrived.
ELENA FOUND SOMETHING BEFORE SHE DIED.
June showed Matteo.
His face emptied.
A final message appeared.
YOU JUST MARRIED THE SAME SECRET.
Attached was a photograph.
Elena.
Standing beside Matteo eight years earlier.
But Elena was holding something in her hand.
A cream-colored courthouse envelope.
The same kind June had received every Thursday.
June enlarged the photograph.
There was writing visible on the corner.
A black number.
One.
Matteo whispered, “That’s impossible.”
Then someone knocked on the courtroom door.
Three slow knocks.
Daniel moved toward it.
Matteo said, “Don’t.”
May you like
Too late.
The handle turned from the other side.
