I lifted my eyes at the altar expecting to see the man I loved standing in front of me. Instead, I saw his older brother waiting beneath the flowers

“What the hell is this, Gabriel?” Luke roared, marching into the library, completely disregarding the presence of the family attorney.

Two armed security guards stepped into the room behind him, but Gabriel raised a single, calm hand, signaling them to stand down.

Gabriel didn't stand. He didn't raise his voice. He simply leaned back in his leather chair, resting his hands atop his cane.

“You’re trespassing, Luke,” Gabriel said smoothly. “This is a private legal consultation between my wife, my counsel, and myself.”

Luke’s eyes darted to me, a desperate, frantic energy radiating from him. “Claire! Don't sign anything he gives you! He’s manipulating you! He’s using you to lock me out of the trust!”

I sat perfectly still, watching Luke with a cold detachment that surprised even myself.

Where was the handsome, charming man I had fallen for? In the harsh morning light, all I saw was a desperate, entitled boy throwing a tantrum because his safety net was slipping away.

“Luke,” I said, my voice calm and ice-cold. “Did you or did you not promise my father’s logistics permits to Salvatore Marcone?”

Luke froze. His eyes widened, darting nervously between me and Gabriel.

“Claire… you don't understand the pressure I was under,” Luke stammered, stepping toward the table. “Marcone was going to kill me! I had to buy time! Gabriel has billions, he could have paid them off with pocket change, but he refused! He wanted to punish me!”

“You used me as bait,” I said, standing up from my chair. Every ounce of heartbreak transformed into pure, searing fury. “You looked me in the eyes, you kissed me, you took me to meet my brother in the hospital, knowing that you were trading my life to settle your gambling debts!”

“I was trying to keep you safe with Gabriel!” Luke shouted, his voice cracking. “I knew Gabriel wouldn't let Marcone touch you! I did it for us!”

“Get out.”

The command didn't come from me.

It came from Gabriel.

The temperature in the library seemed to drop ten degrees. Gabriel rose slowly from his seat, his towering frame casting a long, menacing shadow across the room. He didn't raise his voice, but the sheer, lethal authority vibrating in his tone made the hair on my arms stand up.

“You have violated the perimeter of my home, Luke,” Gabriel said, taking a slow, heavy step forward, the silver cane striking the hardwood floor with the finality of a gavel. “You have spoken to my wife without my permission. And you have forgotten who feeds you.”

Luke swallowed hard, taking an instinctive step back. “Gabriel… I’m your brother. You can't just cut me out.”

“I just did,” Gabriel said coldly. “Harold Vance has already filed the paperwork. Your credit lines through Moretti Holdings have been frozen. Your access to the corporate accounts has been revoked. You will receive a monthly allowance of five thousand dollars—the exact amount of a junior clerk at our firm. If you approach Claire again, or if you make contact with Dante Marcone, I will personally hand the Macau surveillance footage of your money laundering to the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

Luke’s face drained of all color. He looked at Gabriel with pure, unadulterated hatred.

“You think you won, brother?” Luke hissed, his voice trembling with malice. “You think this little charity case is going to play the dutiful billionaire’s wife? The entire city knows what happened at the altar yesterday. The Charity Gala at the Drake Hotel is tonight. Let’s see how the board reacts when they see the great Gabriel Moretti parading his purchased bride before the wolves.”

Luke glared at me one last time, turned on his heel, and stormed out of the library, the security guards trailing closely behind him.

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

Harold Vance quickly gathered his papers, bowed his head, and excused himself, leaving Gabriel and me alone in the vast room.

I turned to Gabriel, crossing my arms. “Is he right? Is there a gala tonight?”

Gabriel walked over to the tall windows overlooking the city, his back to me.

“Yes,” Gabriel murmured. “The annual Moretti Children’s Hospital Gala. It is the most important social event of the year. Every board member, every major investor, and every rival family—including the Marcones—will be in attendance.”

He turned back to face me, his dark eyes solemn and intense.

“You do not have to attend if you do not feel ready, Claire. I can issue a press release stating you are unwell.”

I looked at this man—a man feared by everyone in Chicago, a man who had every legal right to demand my obedience—yet he was offering me a way out.

I thought of Luke’s sneer. I thought of my family’s betrayal. I thought of the syndicate wolves waiting to see me cower in shame.

“No,” I said, lifting my chin, my voice ringing with absolute certainty. “Call your stylists, Gabriel. If we are going to a slaughterhouse, I intend to look like the queen who owns it.”