Lies & Vows

SERENA'S POV

"Ooh, my dear, you look tired," my stepmom tutted in an overtly caring voice, attempting to touch my face as I stepped into the kitchen. I expertly avoided her hand, taking a step back.

She was in her late fifties but could easily pass for someone in her late thirties, thanks to all the surgery she'd had.

Lilian, my half-sister, looked much like her, with that annoyingly innocent beauty that made them look warm and very much womanly, with deep curves in all the right places.

At least those curves weren't surgically enhanced. Or were they? Who could tell with women like this?

"Yeah," I muttered, walking towards the double-chested fridge to grab a bottle of water, and after a moment's hesitation, an apple.

"Your father told me about the situation with this Raphael... errr... issue," she waved her hand, always so dramatic.

No, he didn't. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye while I gulped down the water like my life depended on it.

In that moment, maybe it did. I stayed up all night surfing the net, trying to dig up any information on my betrothed, but it seemed like I'd stumbled upon a Don who was either a saint or damn good at keeping his life private.

The only thing I found was an old newspaper interview from five years ago about him being one of the youngest and most successful businessmen. That was it.

I raked a hand through my black hair for the hundredth time, as I walked out of the kitchen, the bottle tucked under my arm and the apple in my hand.

"If you want me to talk to your father about not wanting this arrangement..." she trailed off, glancing at me like she wasn't sure how much I knew. "... after all, it's a Giovanni's daughter that was promised, and luckily, there are two of you..."

She was fishing. I could see right through it. She didn't have all the details.

"Never mind, I'll handle it myself," I said with a false bravado before walking out of the kitchen.

I saw Lilian, startled, trying to pretend she hadn't been eavesdropping on our conversation.

She was standing at the hallway, but quickly straightened up as I passed her and made my way back to my room.

For the first time in a long while, I found myself agreeing with Isabella.

It was a Giovanni's daughter that was promised. But only if my father could be so easily persuaded.

I sighed as I dropped down at my makeshift study desk at the extreme end of my room. I hadn't checked in on Jillian, the manager of my fashion house.

Doing something business-related might at least take my mind off these betrothal shenanigans.

My phone vibrated in my hand just as I was about to call Jillian. The caller ID read Antonio.

"What is it?" I flipped open my jotter to write down my to-do list for the day.

"Just checking up on my current favorite person," he responded in his usual cheerful tone.

"I haven't been kidnapped yet, if that's what you want to know," I replied snidely.

"Ever the cheerful lady, aren't you?" He chuckled, causing a little smile to tug at my lips.

"As the wingman to the Don of one of the oldest cartels, I've had to do business with all kinds of people," his tone shifted, turning somber. "

I've met different types-some cruel, some maniacal... and Raphael Moretti? He's on another level.

He never reveals his emotions, and staring into those devilishly black eyes of his won't tell you what he's planning next.

They call him the Black Devil for a reason. He's dangerous, Serena. Dangerous,"

My heart skipped a beat. Antonio's words sunk in, and I felt my stomach churn. I had already known that Raphael was dangerous-hell, everyone knew that. But hearing it spoken so clearly, so matter-of-factly, made it all the more real.

I rolled my eyes to try and brush it off. I'd been planning my escape from this violent world for years, but now? This marriage was staring me right in the face, mocking everything I'd worked to build.

"I don't know what your father was thinking, bringing up that long-forgotten promise of his," Antonio sighed, pausing for a moment. "But I think he has his reasons,"

"Thank you, Antonio," I said, my voice softer now, a hint of gratitude in my tone. Without waiting for a reply, I disconnected the call and stood up, walking toward my father's study.

I knew rumors about the Moretti cartel-how ruthless they were in business-but they were just that, rumors. I had no idea who Raphael Moretti even was until yesterday.

I reached my destination and flung open the door.

"I'm not marrying him." My father looked up from his MacBook, his tired eyes behind his glasses. He sighed, rubbing his forehead, clearly exhausted.

I knew he had a lot on his plate, and I almost felt guilty for adding to it, but almost wasn't enough to discourage me from walking away from this life behind. This life that was full of bloodshed and constant fear.

"I'm not marrying Raphael, and that's final," I repeated, gripping the door handle with my shaking hand, prepared to leave the room.

"Come here, Serena, there's something important you need to know," he said in a low voice, the tentative smile on his face making me hesitate.

If this was another one of his tricks to get me to agree to the marriage, I wasn't falling for it.

As though reading my mind, he spoke again, and this time, the word that came from his lips made my stomach drop.

"Please."

I froze. Please? My father rarely used that word.

I closed the door behind me, making sure no one could overhear. I walked over to his desk, my mind racing, my hands suddenly clammy.

"What is it?" I asked, standing before him like an errant student.

He picked up a brown file from his desk, opened it, and handed me a piece of paper.

"What is this?" I asked, but he remained silent, his gaze steady, waiting for me to read it.

My heart pounded in my chest as I took the paper and read it. I could feel my stomach drop as soon as I realized what it was: a medical report.

I hated doctor reports. The sterile, white hospital walls were all too familiar to me. Pain. Grief. Loss. And now, staring down at the paper, I knew this wasn't good news.

My vision blurred, tears threatening to spill, but I swallowed them back. I looked up at my father, trying to steady my breath.

"This isn't true," I whispered, my voice trembling.

He sighed heavily and slowly rose from his seat. I could see the burden he carried. "The doctor says I have three months... before..."

"No," I cut him off sharply, my voice breaking, too afraid to hear the word that loomed over us-death.

"It's a matter of time, my sweet girl. And mine is running fast." He reached out to lift my face, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "I want to see you married before I leave."

He stroked my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that I hadn't even realized had fallen.

"Can you do this for me, my princess? Please?"