Rosalie'S POV

The living room looked smaller than I remembered. I sat between my parents, hands wrapped around a cup of tea I couldn’t drink. My throat felt too tight.

I asked the question I knew I wasn’t supposed to ask.

“Is Gustavo’s grand son still unmarried.”

My father froze mid-pour. The tea hit the cup too slow, too careful, then stopped. My mother straightened like someone pulled a string along her spine.

“Reeves,” he said. “Gustavo’s heir. You remember what happened to him?”

I nodded. I remembered the whispers. Car explosion. Body pulled out in pieces. Doctors saying he would never walk again. The photo of him in that wheelchair everyone tried not to stare at. But no one see his real face and picture.

My father spoke slowly. “He cannot walk. Maybe never again.”

“I know,” I answered. My voice came out small, the kind you hear from someone who learned silence the hard way.

He leaned back, eyes narrowed, the way men look when they want to choose their next words carefully but don’t know how.

“Rosalie, that man runs a quarter of the underworld from a wheelchair. If he wants someone dead, it happens before the sun comes up. If he wants a city to kneel, the city kneels.”

My mother whispered, voice shaking. “Why would you even think of him, baby.”

I gave her a small smile, but it felt wrong on my face. “Because men like him don’t pretend. And they don’t lie when they make a promise.”

My father shook his head. “Gustavo’s family is dangerous. Reeves is worse. He is quiet. He is cold. He is smarter than all of us put together. He is ruthless, Rosalie. And he has no interest in women. Not after the accident.”

“Good,” I said softly. “I’m not looking for interest. I’m looking for safety.”

My mother suddenly inhaled like she’d been stabbed. She covered her mouth.

“Rosalie,” she whispered. “Are you running from Alessandro?”

I didn’t answer.

And that silence told her everything.

My father stood up fast enough that the chair legs scraped. He went to the old desk by the window, the one with the stuck drawer he always complained about. He forced it open and pulled out a single black card.

Just one word on it. Reeves.

He held it out to me.

“This is Reeves’s personal line. Gustavo gave it to me years ago. He owes me a debt from the Santo Tomas deal.”

He hesitated.

“If you call him, you cannot take it back. He will come. He does not ignore debts.”

My fingers closed around the card. It felt heavy. Too heavy. Like it understood what I was asking for.

I swallowed hard. “What kind of man is he now?”

My father thought for a long time.

“He lost his ability to walk, but he did not lose his legs. And he did not lose his hunger. He only learned how to hide it better.”

I looked down at the card again.

For the first time in years, I felt like I was choosing something. Not being pushed. Not being dragged. Choosing.

“Good,” I whispered. “I need a man who can protect what is mine. I want to marry him.”

My parents both sucked in a breath like they were drowning. Before they could speak, my father’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and went pale.

Moretti. Their company.

He put the call on speaker.

The voice from the other end shouted about frozen accounts, canceled contracts, shipments blocked at the pier.

My mother grabbed the edge of the table and my father sat down like his knees gave up.

Alessandro had started.

Everything was already collapsing.

My mother’s lips trembled. “Rosalie… please… please call Reeves.”

My father nodded slowly, defeated. “If this is the only way, then do it. We will support you.”

He took his own phone and dialed a number he hadn’t touched in years. The old Gustavo’s answered on the first ring. The old man’s voice came through rough, powerful, amused.

“You finally used the card,” he said. “Good. Tell me what you need.”

My father cleared his throat. “Our daughter wants to marry Reeves Gustavo.”

The old man didn’t even pause. “Bring the bride. We will start the wedding tomorrow.”

…

The plane landed in a private strip that looked too quiet, too clean, like the world here didn’t bother with noise. Men in black were waiting before the door even opened. One of them took my arm, not rough but not gentle either, and rushed me into a black car with no plates.

I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t have enough strength left for that.

The ride was short. They brought me straight to an old stone courthouse that felt older than the country itself. No music. No flowers. No Reeves.

Only a table.

Only papers.

Only his signature was already waiting there like he’d signed it in the middle of something more important.

My hand shook so much the pen almost slipped when I wrote my name beside his. It felt strange. Quiet. Too final. My heart was beating so loud I thought they could hear it echo in the halls.

The priest spoke with a flat, tired voice, like he’d married strangers like me a thousand times. When he finished, Gustavo’s grandfather put his hand on my shoulder. Heavy. Solid. Not comforting, just… final.

“You are Gustavo now,” he said. “The whole world will know soon.”

I lowered my head. I didn’t trust my voice. I didn’t trust my own lungs. Relief, fear, exhaustion… it all mixed until I couldn’t tell which one hurt more.

...

Later, during dinner, the table was long and cold. The grandfather ate quietly, his men standing behind him like statues. I tried to swallow food but everything tasted the same.

“Will Reeves… meet me?”

He looked at me with a weight that made my stomach twist.

“He will, when he chooses.” He took a slow sip of soup. “Reeves is busy killing people in the basement right now. Traitors.”

My whole body went stiff. His tone wasn’t angry. It wasn’t proud. It was just… normal. Like it was nothing.

I stared at my plate. My hands went cold. My mind went blank.

I was Mrs. Reeves Gustavo now.

Camilla'S POV

I sat in front of my mirror, legs crossed, doing my makeup like a queen getting ready for coronation. The more eyeliner I added, the more I smiled at myself.

“Finally,” I whispered, leaning close to my reflection like I was sharing a delicious secret. “Rosalie is gone. I really thought she’d come crawling back here like some pathetic stray. And she even aborted the child. What a lunatic. What kind of woman throws away a chance like that?”

I put on my lipstick slowly, real slow, admiring how good I looked. My face always looked better when she wasn’t around. I hummed while brushing my hair, enjoying the peace of not seeing her stupid perfect face anywhere near me.

God, I hated her since preschool! Ugh.

Flashback hit me hard, like a slap to the face.

The teacher’s voice. “Rosalie, perfect again. A+! Wow. Beautiful work.” Then she’d turn to me with that fake smile. “Camilla, you got an A. Good job.”

Good job? Good job? Rosalie gets worshipped while I get a pat on the head like a pet. I wanted to tear that paper in half.

Next memory.

My first crush. Stupid little boy with stupid soft curls. I remember watching him give his cookies and juice to Rosalie every single recess. And they’d run around the playground together like some fairytale pair. I cried after school. Literally cried. I confronted him the next day.

“Why do you like her more?! I like you.”

He shrugged like it was nothing. “Rosalie’s prettier. And nicer.”

That stuck in my head forever. It burned.

Flashback ended and I stared at myself again, smiling sharper.

Now Rosalie was out of the way. And I could finally move to become Mrs Moretti. Alessandro was mine. He always should’ve been mine. Sure, I slept with his brothers too. Sometimes all together. Sometimes they begged for it. But Alessandro was the one I wanted. The only problem? I couldn’t get pregnant.

Another flashback rolled in.

I got pregnant once. Sugar daddy’s baby. He wanted it. I didn’t. He was old and ugly. I only wanted the money. So I got rid of it. And the infection wrecked everything inside me. The doctor told me my womb was basically useless.

Best news ever.

Pregnancy? Disgusting. Ugly. Uncomfortable. I never wanted that.

I was still smiling when Janna, my cousin and favorite sidekick in all crimes, burst into the room out of breath.

“Camilla! You remember your first crush and first love, Reeves? The man you confessed to like an idiot on highschool? The man you sent a thousand letters to in one year? The man everyone loved?”

I groaned loudly. “Do not bring that man up. I swear, I remember how pathetic I was over him. I even almost jumped in a river just to make him notice me. He’s a crazy psycho anyway.”

Janna nodded fast. “Right, right. That man. Well… rumor says… he got married today.”

My lipstick stopped halfway to my mouth.

“What did you just say?”

Janna swallowed hard, repeating it slower.

“He’s married. Today.”

My face twisted, heat crawling up my neck.

“What? Him? Married? He cannot even walk. He’s stuck in a wheelchair forever. Who would marry someone like that? And we literally paid men just to kill him. My mom’s death insurance money wasn’t wasted. I hated him for rejecting me.”

Janna leaned closer. “Yeah but… according to what I heard… the woman who married him…”

“Who?” I snapped.

Janna whispered it like a curse.

“Rosalie.”

My voice exploded before I could stop it.

“What?!”

I grabbed Janna’s wrist so hard she squeaked.

“Where the hell did you even hear that crap? You better not be feeding me some cheap rumors from TikTok.”

Janna pushed her glasses up like she was the smartest girl in the room. “Relax, Camilla. I got it from your sugar daddy. The old one. The one with the saggy cheeks who still pays me just to whisper stupid gossip in his ear. He said he got it from the airport staff where Reeves’ private plane landed.”

I stared at her, stunned for a second, then scoffed.

“Wow. My sources are pathetic but still reliable.”

Janna rolled her eyes. “Girl, listen. Isn’t it pathetic though? Rosalie actually married a disabled man. And broke. Man can’t even stand to greet his own bride.”

I burst out laughing so hard my mascara nearly smudged. “Oh my God. She really downgraded. Imagine marrying someone who needs help just to walk to the bathroom. This is the funniest thing I’ve heard all year.”

Janna wiped tears from her face. “You want us to tell Alessandro?”

I shrugged like I was making a generous offer.

“I mean… why not. It’s literally the nicest thing we could do.”

Janna blinked. “Nicest? How?”

I grinned, showing all my teeth. “Once Alessandro knows, he’ll drag her sorry ass back home. And when she comes back…” I flicked my hair. “Oh, she’s going to wish she stayed with the cripple.”

We both laughed like two cheap villains in a low-budget mafia show. It felt amazing.

...

Later, we walked into Moretti headquarters like it was ours. Alessandro was inside his glass office, sleeves rolled up, signing contracts like the whole world was on fire. Papers everywhere. His brothers yelled in the background.

He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. Which honestly made him look hotter.

I didn’t bother knocking. I never knock.

I strutted in with enough perfume to kill a horse.

“Alessandro, baby, we need to talk.”

He didn’t even look up. “What the hell do you want, Camilla? I’m busy.”

“It’s about Rosalie.” I sat right on his desk, blocking everything he was working on.

His pen stopped mid-stroke. The whole room went quiet like someone pressed mute.

I smiled. Time for fun.

“So… rumor says Rosalie finally got herself a man,” I said slowly, enjoying every second.

His jaw twitched. Just what I wanted.

“Not just any man. Guess who?”

“Camilla. Stop playing,” he growled.

I leaned forward, voice almost sweet. “Reeves Gustavo.”

The pen snapped in his hand. The twins walked out of the side room like they just heard a bomb go off. And Alessandro? Alessandro stood up so fast his chair almost flipped.

“What did you fucking say?”