Wear My Dress, Meet My Gun

Of course she'd messaged Zeke while I was busy. Coward move.

Fine. Let him come. Better to end it now than track him down later.

I looked him over—cold, steady.

Years had done their thing. He wasn't the hoodie-wearing kid chasing me around anymore.

Now? Six-foot-two, clean-cut, suit sharp enough to slice.

His face was sharper now—edges where there used to be softness. But those eyes? Same shape. Just colder. No hint of the way he used to look at me.

Jella bolted to him, dramatic as ever, jabbing a finger at the blood on her face. "Zeke, this psycho's claiming my dress. Said she'd strip me! I talked back and she hit me!"

I laughed, bone-dry, and turned to him. "Wow. Long time, Zeke. No 'hi' for your fiancée?"

"Wait, she's Zeke Santoro's fiancée?"

"No shot. Zeke's single, right? When did he get engaged?"

I didn't look their way. I waited.

Truth was hanging by a thread.

But then he frowned. "Miss, are you okay? Maybe still dreaming or something? I don't have a fiancée."

I froze.

He didn't recognize me?

After my dad expanded the Accardi Famiglia's reach, enemies popped up like weeds. For my safety, I was basically a ghost—rarely seen in public.

The engagement was fast-tracked. Zeke and I only talked on the phone. He hadn't seen me since... well, since before I changed.

But seriously? After everything we were as kids—he didn't recognize me?

Please.

I let out a bitter laugh, but before I could get a word in, a bunch of bodyguards rushed in and slammed me to the ground.

"Zeke! Are you insane?!"

He just stood there, watching me struggle, face blank. "You attacked my family on my turf. You got a death wish or something?"

Jella smirked. "Told you not to mess with me. Faking some sister-in-law crap? Zeke said he's staying with me forever. He'd never marry anyone else."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"That sibling bond runs deep. She's just his stepsister, right? Not even blood-related. Kinda sweet, actually."

"They should just date already. They're perfect."

"Meanwhile, that psycho chick—skinny, pale, pretending to be family. She's not even janitor material."

Each word hit like a slap.

I glared up at Zeke, my voice pure ice. "Last shot. Let me go. Or I'll stop pretending our families ever had ties and let my father erase yours."