Too Late, Vitiello: The Bride Strikes Back

Sienna POV:

I stepped directly into Dante's path, my body a fixed point against the marble.

"Do not move her," I stated.

"Move aside," Dante warned, his voice a low vibration of threat.

"Moving her could cause secondary spinal injuries," I said, holding my ground. "It also blurs the lines of liability. If you aggravate her condition, the Falcone Family will not bear the cost of your negligence."

Natalia looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I am fine, Dante," she insisted weakly. "I can stand."

"Stay exactly where you are for the doctor," I commanded her. "Unless you are putting on a show for the Don."

An odor of gunpowder and wormwood filled the space between us as Dante stepped forward, forcing me back until the cold marble of the balustrade pressed against my spine.

"She only came to offer her blessing," he said, his tone meant to end the discussion.

I scoffed, my eyes raking over Natalia's pristine white lace.

"A blessing, indeed," I observed. "Tell me, Natalia, why did you choose to wear a white gown identical to my bridal dress to offer this blessing?"

Natalia swallowed hard, her eyes darting away from mine.

"My luggage was lost at the airstrip," she lied, her voice shaking. "I had nothing else to wear. A friend let me borrow this."

I did not miss a beat.

"Flight landing time?" I fired the question at her.

She blinked, confused. "What?"

"Tail number of your private jet?" I demanded. "Luggage claim proof? Which airstrip?"

Natalia opened her mouth, but no words came out.

She was completely speechless.

I turned to the Estate Manager.

"Did this woman have a sealed invitation?" I asked.

The manager looked at Dante, then back at me, his face pale. "No, Miss Falcone."

"Audit the guest list and the perimeter logs right now," I ordered. "I want to know exactly how a woman with no invitation bypassed fifty armed guards."

Enzo, Dante's groomsman and a Soldier in the Vitiello Family, suddenly stepped forward from the crowd.

"Marco ordered me to tell you to fetch the rings from the second floor," Enzo interjected, looking nervously at me. "That is why you were up there."

Lucia, my best friend and right-hand woman, stepped out from behind me, her presence a solid weight at my back.

"The rings were never slated to be in the second-floor lounge, Enzo," Lucia snapped, her voice sharp. "I had them in the bridal suite on the first floor until ten minutes ago. There was no reason for Sienna to be directed toward that fire escape."

I pivoted my glare to Marco, Dante's trusted Capo, who was standing near the ballroom entrance.

Marco cleared his throat, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"The wedding schedule was chaotic," Marco said, his voice strained. "There was a miscommunication."

"Investigate Marco's movements for the last three hours," I ordered the Estate Manager.

The heavy front doors of the estate were thrown open, and the syndicate's doctor rushed in, a black medical bag in his hand.

I turned to the doctor.

"Examine her right here on the floor," I briefed him. "I demand an airtight medical report. Document every scratch, every bruise, and the exact age of those injuries."

I looked over my shoulder at Lucia, giving her a subtle nod.

Lucia pulled out her phone, the red recording light blinking as she pointed the camera directly at the doctor, locking Dante and his men into a corner they could not shoot their way out of.

And in the distance, through the great oak doors, I heard the sound of a second vehicle pulling up the gravel drive. Tires crushing stone. Doors opening. Boots on marble.

The Arbitrator had arrived—and with him, the only force in the underworld that even Dante Vitiello feared.

I watched my fiancé's jaw tighten as he recognized the footsteps.

But before the doors swung open, my phone buzzed in my hidden pocket. One message from my father:

“Vitiello legal team drafted an annulment contract at 10:47 PM last night. Title: Major Fault of the Bride. He planned to rob us before you even put on the dress.”

I looked up at Dante. His eyes were still fixed on the door, calculating his next move.

He had no idea that I already knew.

His trap had sprung. But the prey he had caught was not the woman he expected.

And I had just become the hunter.