Married The Man Who Buried My Sister

~ Lilliana Marchesi's POV

"You either marry Christian Esposito or you leave in a body bag."

This was the first thing I heard when I peeled the veil off and backed into the corner of the bridal suite. My pulse was thundering in my ears, louder than the shouting going around outside.

"Lilly, stop, please," Bianca, my only best friend since grade school, stood at the exit in her heels with her trembling voice. "You walk out that door without marrying him, and he'll hunt you down just to bury you next to Eva. Christians don't make empty threats, you know that."

"Then let him kill me," I hissed out.

Biance looked behind the door, then back at me. "They're already threatening to kill a man from the Carbone family outside. You think they won't do worse to us?"

I froze mid-step. Outside the bridal suite and in the wedding venue, men were yelling at each other---something about someone showing up uninvited. Then, a loud bang of a gun echoed around the room, and my heart raced.

I took a deep breath and looked in the mirror, seeing the reflection of my sister in the mirror---Eva's reflection.

Not even five minutes later, I was walking down the aisle with an expressionless face. Christian Esposito was standing in front of me, a little blood painted on his neck. He didn't offer his arm when I arrived. The priest rushed through the vows, and I had to say yes---without blinking.

Christian didn't wait for the romantic kiss. He grabbed my face and crushed his mouth against mine, as if taking his anger out on me.

"Run now, and I'll dig up Eva just to bury you next. Don't forget the contract your mother signed with me years ago."

Then he turned and smiled at the guest as if we were some romantic couple in love.

At the reception, I tried to mingle with everyone and fit in, but I couldn't. As I was making my way to the bridal suite, Matteo Esposito, Christian's uncle, cornered him just a little near the fountain. I pretended to admire the cake as I inched closer.

"She's not one of us," Matteo snapped.

Christian laughed. "That's the point. No one will suspect her."

"She's Eva's sister, Matteo."

"That's also the point. Besides, their mother sold them both to me years ago to keep them safe from THEM."

Matteo gritted his teeth, swearing in Sicilian. "You're playing a dangerous game."

Christian leaned towards him. "You taught me how."

I turned away just before they could notice me listening. I felt sick, but I had to smile at the guests, as if I didn't want to run away.

So, I found an excuse to leave and headed toward the Esposito wing of the estate as if I were a ghost moving through my own funeral.

I reached Eva's bedroom, the one Christian said I would stay in. It was big enough to have a bedroom, a walk-in closet, and even a study, all in one room.

I didn't unpack. Instead, I observed the estate. I looked for exits that would be helpful in an emergency and memorized them.

My eyes lay on a painting, tilted slightly above the dresser---something Eva would have corrected. I climbed onto the dresser and pulled the painting down. A photo fell at my feet and I sat down, taking a look at it.

It was Eva standing beside a man with his back turned to the camera. The handwriting on the back was enough to send a chill down my spine.

"He knows the truth. ---A."

I gripped the photo and moved down from the dresser, accidentally knocking one of her lipsticks down. Christian had left her things untouched---everything was just as Eva had placed it. I picked the lipstick up and opened it to remember Eva again, but I froze.

Inside the lipstick was a USB drive.

My hands were shaking as I plugged it into my phone and hit play on one audio file displayed on the front.

Eva's voice echoed through the speaker. "If you're hearing this...Christian knows. Get to Alessandro. He's the only one who can stop this."

Silence. Then a shaky breath.

"He killed her. He killed Mom. And he'll kill you, too, if you stay."

My knees buckled as I sank to the floor, clutching my phone tight to my chest.

Alessandro.

He was a man that I'd never met, but I knew all about him. He was a phantom in the mafia, known as IL Fantasma. He was a man that every cartel feared.

I didn't know how long I sat on the floor, barely breathing. But a crack awoke me to reality, and my senses rushed. The window shattered with a roar, glass scattering all over like razors.

A bullet slammed straight into the headboard, just inches away from where I'd been sitting.

I hit the ground just as a second shot followed it.