Chapter 1: Reunion

The Wedding Reception of Lucas and Elizabeth

The sun dipped low over the estate, casting a golden hue across the sprawling garden where the wedding reception was in full swing. A grand white tent stood at the center, its silken drapes fluttering gently in the evening breeze. The air carried the rich aroma of roasted meats, fresh basil, and aged wine, mingling with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the steady rhythm of a live band playing a Sicilian waltz.

Inside the tent, long tables were set with fine china and glistening silverware. Candles flickered in crystal holders, illuminating the faces of powerful men and their beautifully adorned wives. The men sat with heavy postures, their suits crisp, their eyes sharp. They weren't here for just a celebration. A wedding like this, between two mafia families, wasn't just about love—it was about power, about alliances forged over wine and whispered deals.

At the heart of it all sat Lucas Moretti, broad-shouldered and composed in his tailored black suit, his face unreadable behind the flicker of candlelight. He was a man who had learned to command rooms long before he was old enough to inherit his father's empire. His dark eyes flickered with a sharp awareness as he accepted the congratulations of a rival Don, their hands meeting in a firm, deliberate shake.

Beside him sat Elizabeth Moretti, his newly wedded wife. Her delicate hands rested on her lap, her wedding ring glinting subtly under the golden light. She was small, with soft features that made her look like a fragile doll, her skin pale against the deep blue silk of her dress. Her long hair, dark as ink, cascaded in gentle waves down her back. Her eyes—bright, intelligent, but quietly observant—watched everything.

No one in this room knew the truth. No one suspected that Elizabeth, so carefully crafted to appear as the perfect young bride, had once been Eli—the youngest son of the Vasquez family. The Vasquez, always playing the long game, had shaped Eli into something passable, something valuable, molding him from childhood into the perfect bait for a strategic marriage. And now here he was, Elizabeth, the blushing bride of the Moretti heir.

The guests didn't notice the way Lucas's fingers occasionally tensed on the table, as if reminding himself to play along. Nor did they notice the quick, almost imperceptible glances Elizabeth cast toward him, assessing, reading, as if searching for something in the man who had once been her childhood best friend.

The Guests and Their Deals

Near the bar, Salvatore Bianchi, a mid-tier capo from Chicago, swirled his glass of scotch as he leaned toward Don Marcello, an older, seasoned boss from Naples.

"This marriage," Salvatore mused, watching Lucas and Elizabeth from afar, "it benefits Moretti more than Vasquez, don't you think?"

Marcello took a slow sip of his wine, his gold ring flashing in the dim light. "Perhaps. But Vasquez wouldn't give up their youngest so easily unless they had another play. That girl—Elizabeth—she's quiet. Too quiet." He exhaled through his nose, thoughtful. "I don't trust quiet people."

Nearby, Luca Ricci, Lucas's second-in-command, stood at a table full of lieutenants, his thick fingers toying with a cigar. "One thing's for sure," he said, voice low. "If Vasquez thinks they can play games, they'll find out real fast that Lucas ain't the boy they remember."

They all chuckled, a dark, knowing sound, and lifted their glasses in silent agreement.

Across the floor, a more delicate conversation was taking place.

Sophia Vasquez, Elizabeth's older sister, sat beside their mother, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against her champagne flute. "She looks good, doesn't she?" Sophia murmured, her tone just a touch too satisfied.

Their mother, a sharp-featured woman draped in expensive silk, smiled coolly. "Of course she does. We ensured it."

Sophia took a slow sip, her gaze flicking to Elizabeth. There was something calculating in her eyes. She had always been the favored daughter, the one meant for a match like this. And yet, here they were, celebrating Elizabeth's union with Moretti.

Lucas and Elizabeth

At the head table, Lucas leaned in slightly, his voice low enough that only Elizabeth could hear. "You're doing well."

Elizabeth turned to him, her dark lashes lowering slightly. "You sound surprised."

He smirked, just barely. "Not surprised. Just… impressed."

She held his gaze for a moment, searching. The last time they had truly seen each other, they had been children—Lucas, the fierce protector, and Eli, the quiet shadow always trailing behind. Then, time had stolen them apart. When they reunited, Lucas had been presented with Elizabeth, not Eli. And though he had accepted it, there was something unreadable in his eyes whenever he looked at her.

"Are you happy?" he asked, voice even.

She blinked, momentarily caught off guard. It was a strange question, given the circumstances.

"I don't know," she admitted finally. "Are you?"

Lucas exhaled through his nose, something close to amusement flickering in his eyes. "Ask me again in a year."

The band struck up a new tune, and Lucas stood, offering his hand. "Dance with me."

Elizabeth hesitated only a second before placing her hand in his. His grip was firm but careful, as if he were handling something delicate. Together, they stepped onto the dance floor, the crowd parting for them.

The first steps were slow, calculated. Elizabeth's dress swayed with the movement, her body light in Lucas's arms. To the watching guests, they looked like the perfect couple—young, beautiful, the embodiment of unity between two great families.

But as Lucas pulled her closer, his breath warm against her ear, he murmured, "They're all watching us."

Elizabeth smiled, sweet and demure, but her fingers tightened just slightly on his shoulder.

"Let them watch."

The Whispered Secrets

At a nearby table, an older man, Don Vittorio, leaned toward his wife, his voice barely audible over the music. "Moretti's wife is unusual."

His wife, an elegant woman with silver hair, tilted her head. "How so?"

"She doesn't look at him like a bride looks at her husband," Vittorio mused. "She watches him like a chess player watches the board."

His wife chuckled, swirling her wine. "Perhaps that's exactly what Moretti needs."

The Unspoken Future

As the song ended, Lucas dipped Elizabeth slightly, their eyes locking. A silent conversation passed between them—one layered with history, uncertainty, and something else.

When he pulled her back upright, she adjusted the delicate bracelet on her wrist.

The night was still young. Deals would be made, alliances whispered. But for now, the dance continued.

And in the flickering candlelight, no one noticed that Elizabeth's smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

The First Night

The bedroom was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting long shadows against the dark wooden walls. The Moretti estate was silent now, the wedding reception long over, leaving behind only the faint echoes of laughter and music in the grand halls.

Lucas stood near the window, his broad shoulders tense as he looked out over the sprawling gardens below. The air was heavy between them, thick with unspoken emotions. Behind him, Elizabeth—Eli—sat on the edge of the vast bed, fingers twisting the fabric of her silk nightgown.

Neither of them spoke at first.

Lucas finally exhaled and turned to face Eli. His expression was unreadable, his dark eyes scanning the small, delicate figure before him. His wife.

"You should sleep," he said, voice low.

Eli's fingers stilled for a moment before curling into his lap. "You're not angry?"

Lucas's jaw tightened. "I don't know what I feel," he admitted. "But it's not anger."

Eli let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "You should be. My family tricked you. They—" His voice hitched slightly. "They gave you something unnatural."

Lucas crossed the room in slow, deliberate steps. He crouched in front of Eli, his strong hands resting on his knees as he looked up at him. "You think I care about that?"

Eli hesitated, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. "I—I don't know. Shouldn't you?"

Lucas sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before looking back at him. "The only truth I care about is that you're here. You're Eli. My friend." His voice softened. "And now, my wife."

Eli's breath hitched, and his hands trembled slightly. "I don't know how to be a wife."

Lucas's lips quirked at the corner, the ghost of a smirk. "Good. I don't know how to be a husband."

That startled a laugh out of Eli, small but real. He wiped at his eyes quickly, as if embarrassed to be crying. "This is a disaster."

Lucas huffed. "Maybe. But you're not."

Eli's smile wavered, and his eyes glistened. "Why are you being so kind to me?" His voice cracked, raw and vulnerable. "My family lied to you. They made me into this—this mix of a man and a woman. Why don't you hate me?"

Lucas's expression hardened. "Because you didn't choose this."

Eli sucked in a shaky breath.

Lucas reached out then, hesitating only for a second before tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind Eli's ear. His fingers were warm, gentle. "The past is done. I can't change it. But I can make sure you're safe now." His voice dropped lower, softer. "You'll never have to be afraid in this house."

Eli stared at him, the weight of those words settling deep in his chest. Then, before he could stop himself, he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Lucas's shoulders.

Lucas stilled for a fraction of a second before his arms came up around Eli's waist, firm and steady.

The hug was desperate, years of separation, loneliness, and confusion all melting into this one moment. Eli buried his face in Lucas's shoulder, his small frame shaking. "I missed you," he whispered, his fingers curling into the fabric of Lucas's shirt. "So much."

Lucas's grip tightened. "I missed you too."

They stayed like that for a long time, neither wanting to let go.

Finally, Lucas shifted, pulling back just enough to look at Eli's face. "Come on," he murmured. "Let's get some sleep."

Eli sniffled and nodded.

Lucas stood, walking over to the other side of the bed and slipping off his jacket, tossing it onto a chair. He unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it open before kicking off his shoes. Eli, still hesitant, crawled under the blankets, watching as Lucas settled beside him.

There was a stretch of silence, not uncomfortable but full of things unsaid.

Eli hesitated before whispering, "It used to be simpler."

Lucas turned his head to look at him. "What did?"

Eli's lips curved slightly, though his eyes were sad. "When we were kids. Running through the vineyards. Climbing trees." He let out a soft chuckle. "You always got mad when I fell."

Lucas smirked. "That's because you were reckless."

Eli hummed. "I liked it better back then. No pretending. No expectations. Just… us."

Lucas was quiet for a moment before murmuring, "We can still have that."

Eli turned to him, eyes wide. "How?"

Lucas exhaled slowly. "We start over. I don't care what they did to you, what they forced you to become. You're still Eli to me. And proper wife or not, I'll protect you."

Eli's throat tightened. His eyes burned again, and before he could stop himself, another tear slipped down his cheek. "You're not supposed to be like this," he whispered. "You're supposed to be cold. Ruthless. A proper Moretti."

Lucas huffed. "I am."

Eli shook his head. "No. You're still the same Lucas I remember. The one who pulled me out of the river when I fell in. The one who punched Marco Rossi in the face when he called me weak."

Lucas smirked. "I broke his nose."

Eli let out a small, teary laugh. "Yeah, you did."

Silence settled between them again, but this time, it was warm. Comforting.

Eli shifted, curling up slightly under the blankets. "We have a lot to catch up on," he murmured sleepily.

Lucas turned onto his side, facing him. "Yeah. We do."

Eli's eyes fluttered closed. For the first time in years, he felt safe.

Lucas watched him for a moment before finally letting out a slow breath and closing his own eyes.