He Rigged the Vows, I Chose His Uncle

Daniele's voice shook as he asked again, "You want the pin back?"

I closed the box and met his eyes, steady and calm. "Since you're taking the necklace back, you shouldn't hold onto the pin before the wedding. We can figure out the rest later."

Daniele sighed in relief, then reluctantly unclipped the pin from his suit and handed it to me.

I'd ordered that pin custom-made for him, with the Moretti family crest engraved on it.

A year ago, during a shootout, that pin, sitting right over Daniele's breast pocket, had stopped a bullet that would've killed him.

That night, he'd held me and cried until dawn, whispering that I'd saved his life.

With a voice full of devotion, he'd said, "Regina, if it weren't for you, I'd already be with God. I'll treat you right for the rest of my life."

Now I knew none of it had ever been true.

After setting the pin down, Daniele didn't say another word. He just grabbed Sofia's hand and walked out.

When the engine of their car finally rumbled to life outside, I finally breathed out. Then I walked to the fireplace and tossed the pin straight into the flames.

"No!"

Lisa Caruso, my most trusted maid, sprinted toward me, but she was too late. The fire swallowed the pin, burning it down the same way it burned through the last thread between Daniele and me.

Lisa winced. "Ms. Sterlini, you carved that pin for Mr. Moretti yourself. How could you burn something you put so much effort into?"

I brushed the ash from my fingers. "Because it's tainted now, and there's no reason to keep it. I'm not marrying Daniele, so hanging on to that token of love is pointless."

Lisa let out a regretful sigh and tried to comfort me. "Ms. Sterlini, he never knew how to treasure you. He doesn't deserve that pin. The only shame is how much effort you put into making it."

I didn't answer and just watched the flames burn.

…

The next day, I headed to Moretti Estate as agreed. It was my first official visit to meet my fiance.

The butler led me to the study, where a man sat alone.

Samuele.

He was tucked back in the shadows, looking pale as he quietly read a classic novel.

He looked up the moment he heard my footsteps. His eyes were dark and impossible to read, sharp enough to make it feel like he could see straight through me.

"Ms. Sterlini, si sieda," he said, his voice low and smooth.

I sat across from Samuele, finally facing the "useless man" everyone whispered about.

He looked nothing like the rumors. They said he'd been injured in a turf war, that a blunt-force hit had damaged his heart so badly he wouldn't live past 35.

But the man in front of me, pale or not, was tall, controlled, and carried a quiet, dangerous authority.

"You're nothing like what I pictured," I said, not bothering to sugarcoat it.

He closed the book and studied me with real interest. "And what did you expect?"

"A useless man lying in bed waiting to die."

Samuele smiled, a look that was both dangerous and disarmingly charming. "Disappointed?"

I smiled back. "The opposite. I'm pretty satisfied."

We talked for a long time, drifting from business to literature, to art, and then to philosophy.

Samuele's knowledge ran deep, and his mind was razor-sharp. The way he spoke made his intelligence and charm impossible to ignore.

He was so much more interesting than Daniele ever managed to be.

"Why did you agree to this marriage?" I asked.

"Because you're smart. Smart enough to know when to let go."

"You don't mind that it's a transaction?"

A cool, unreadable calm settled in his eyes. "Every marriage is a transaction. The only thing that changes is what people put on the table."

We stepped onto the balcony, the city lights spread out beneath us like a glittering map.

That was when Daniele showed up uninvited. The second he saw how easily Samuele and I were talking, his whole expression curdled.

He came toward us, his voice pulled tight with anger. "Uncle Samuele, why are you here with Regina?"

Samuele didn't bother to look up. His tone stayed cold enough to freeze the air. "Daniele, do I need to report my guests to you?"

The words hit Daniele hard. All the swagger drained out of him.

"I-I just wanted…" he stammered, the rest catching in his throat.

Samuele's voice went even colder. "Wanted what?"

Daniele's face went bright red, but he didn't say a thing.

Injured or not, Samuele had once been the family's underboss, and that weight had never really left him. People still felt it every time he spoke.

Samuele flicked his hand like he was brushing off an annoying fly. "If there's nothing else, you can leave."

Daniele shot me a vicious glare but slunk off anyway.

A moment later, Samuele excused himself, saying he wasn't feeling well, before stepping away.

The second he was gone, Daniele stormed back in, his voice low and furious. "Why the hell did you sell the sports car I gave you to a junkyard?"