She went to her cousin’s engagement hoping no one would notice her, but the mafia boss spent the whole night watching only her

Two weeks later, the day of Paige and Luca's wedding arrived.

The ceremony was held at a private cathedral in Westchester, surrounded by manicured gardens and high stone walls. It was the wedding Paige had always dreamed of—thousands of white roses, a ten-piece orchestra, and security so tight that not even a bird could fly over the property without clearance.

Emma stood in the bridal suite, adjusting the train of Paige’s lace gown.

Paige looked breathtaking, her eyes shining with pure happiness.

"I still can't believe this is happening," Paige wiped a tiny tear from her cheek, looking at Emma in the mirror. "And I can't believe you're wearing custom Vera Wang."

Emma looked down at her dress. It was a midnight-blue silk gown that fit her perfectly, hugging her waist and cascading to the floor like liquid night. Roman had personally commissioned it from Paris.

"It's... comfortable," Emma smiled softly.

Paige turned around, taking Emma’s hands. "He loves you, Emma. I was terrified of him at first... but the way Roman looks at you? Luca told me Roman hasn't slept more than four hours a night in two weeks because he was personally reviewing every vendor, every driver, and every guard for today."

Emma felt a surge of deep warmth in her chest. "I know."

A knock sounded at the door.

Roman stepped into the room. He wore a pristine black tuxedo with a dark blue silk pocket square that matched Emma’s dress perfectly.

Paige smiled at him nervously. "I'll... go find Luca."

She slipped out of the room, leaving them alone.

Roman walked over to Emma, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of her in the navy gown. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

"You look exquisite," Roman murmured.

"You don't look so bad yourself, Mr. Varelli," Emma teased gently.

Roman opened the box. Inside rested a breathtaking diamond necklace—a delicate lattice of platinum holding a deep blue sapphire that glittered like a star.

"Roman, I can't accept this," Emma gasped. "It's too much—"

"It belonged to my grandmother," Roman interrupted softly, stepping behind her and lifting the hair from the nape of her neck. "She brought it from Sicily. She told me to give it to the woman who would rule this family by my side."

He fastened the heavy silver clasp against her skin.

Emma turned around, touching the sapphire resting against her collarbone. She looked up into his eyes, seeing no darkness, no cruelty—only absolute, unyielding love.