(Isla's POV)
My heart stopped.
Dante's words hit me so hard my fingers slipped off the piano keys.
"I think I'm marrying the wrong sister."
For a second, everything inside me froze. My throat closed. My chest ached. It felt like the air around us had turned heavy, pressing against my skin.
"What did you just say?" I whispered.
But before he could answer, loud footsteps rushed toward us and a guard shouted across the hall.
"Security drill complete! All clear!"
The sudden noise snapped me back into the moment so fast it hurt. People nearby sighed with relief. Someone laughed nervously. Another complained about almost spilling their drink.
A drill.
Just a drill.
But my body still felt like it was trapped inside the fear from minutes ago.
I turned back to Dante, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. His jaw was tight, his brows drawn. Like he'd said too much and knew it.
"It doesn't matter," he muttered. "Forget I said anything."
Before I could respond, someone else stepped beside him.
Luciano.
His cold eyes locked onto mine the second he entered the hall. Even surrounded by guests, he seemed bigger than the room: quieter, sharper, more dangerous.
"Dante," he said, voice low. "I need a word."
Dante didn't move. His eyes stayed on me for a long moment, too long. My stomach twisted.
Luciano followed his gaze.
His face changed.
Something dark flashed in his eyes. Something unreadable.
Then he looked away and spoke to his brother again. "Now."
Dante sighed and finally nodded. "Fine."
Before he left, he leaned toward me and whispered, "We're not done talking."
My breath caught.
Then he walked off with Luciano, who didn't look at me again but I could feel his tension from across the room. Like he was trying not to break something.
I sat at the piano again, trying to calm my shaking hands. But the keys looked blurry. My chest still felt tight. My thoughts spun in circles.
Why would Dante say something like that?
He was marrying Gianna. My own sister. This whole wedding was her dream, not mine.
I didn't want trouble. I didn't want drama. I didn't even want attention. I just wanted to play piano, get paid, and leave.
So why did everything feel like it was trying to drag me deeper?
I put my fingers on the keys again: just to breathe, when a familiar voice came from behind me.
"You're still shaking."
I turned.
Luciano stood there again, one hand behind his back, the other relaxed at his side, but even relaxed, his presence felt like a warning sign you don't ignore.
"It was just a drill," he said.
"I know," I whispered. "But it didn't feel like one."
For the first time, something almost gentle flickered in his eyes.
"I shouldn't have grabbed you the way I did," he said stiffly. "I apologize."
The words shocked me more than the fake gunshots.
"You don't seem like someone who apologizes often," I said without thinking.
His eyes narrowed slightly not in anger, but like he wasn't sure how I'd read him so easily.
"I don't," he said. "But I needed you safe."
"Why?" The question came out before I could stop it. "Why do you care if anything happens to me?"
Luciano didn't move. Didn't blink. He just stared at me like my question was a knife pressed against something he didn't want touched.
"Your last name," he said finally. "Your real one. Torres."
My stomach dropped.
"I…." My voice cracked. "You can't say that here."
"No one heard." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "But you shouldn't hide from me. If anyone here should know, it's me."
"Why? Why you?"
He looked at me then: really looked, and I felt something heavy push against the back of my throat.
"You look just like her," he whispered.
My breath caught again. "Like who?"
But Luciano stepped back, walls snapping over his expression like a mask dropping into place.
"It doesn't matter," he said. "Just be careful tonight."
He turned and walked away, leaving me shaking again except this time, it wasn't fear. It felt like someone had opened a door I wasn't ready to see behind.
Who was "her"?
And why would a man like Luciano stare at me like I was a ghost?
I tried to practice, but every key I touched felt wrong. The notes sounded off. My heartbeat kept jumping. My mind kept replaying Dante's words, Luciano's warning, and the fear from the false alarm.
Nothing felt normal.
I tried again.
Another wrong note.
My hands were a mess.
"Do you want help?"
The voice made me jump.
Dante had returned, standing beside the piano like he belonged there.
"You scared me," I said.
"I scare myself sometimes," he said softly. "Especially today."
He sat on the small bench beside me. Not too close, but close enough that I felt his warmth.
"Look," he said. "About what I said before"
"Don't," I cut in quickly. "Please. That was… too much."
"But it's true."
I shook my head. "You're marrying my sister."
He let out a breath, his shoulders sinking. "I know."
He rubbed his hands together, looking frustrated. "Gianna is beautiful. Smart. Strong. But she feels like a stranger to me."
"And I don't?" I asked before I could stop myself.
His eyes lifted to mine.
"You feel familiar," he said.
My heart stumbled.
"That doesn't make sense," I whispered.
"Nothing about today makes sense," he said. "But when I look at you, I feel like"
"Dante!"
Gianna's voice cut through the room like a blade.
We both turned.
She stood there in her wedding robe and makeup, but her eyes, her eyes were not soft or happy.
They were furious.
"What are you doing?" she snapped.
"I was just"
"With my sister?" Gianna folded her arms. "On our wedding day?"
Her anger shot straight into my chest. I stood up quickly.
"Gianna, it's not what you think"
"Oh, I know exactly what I think," she hissed, grabbing my wrist hard enough to make me wince. "You need to stay away from him."
"Gianna,
"No." Her face leaned close to mine. "After tonight, none of this will matter anyway. I'll finally be free."
My blood turned cold.
"What does that mean?" I whispered.
But she didn't answer.
She stormed off, leaving me stunned, breathless, and more confused than ever.
Free?
Free from what?
Before I could make sense of anything, the wedding coordinator shouted:
"Everyone! Ceremony starting now!"
My shaking hands moved on their own as I sat back at the piano.
I started playing the song I wrote years ago, "Blotted Currents."
The one about my parents.
The one that never stopped hurting to play.
As I played, I felt eyes burning into me.
I looked up.
Luciano stood in the shadows.
Watching me.
Expression unreadable.
His hand resting inside his jacket.
On a gun.
My chest tightened.
Why did it feel like something terrible was about to happen?
Then. Everything went black.
The lights.
The music.
The room.
All gone.
A scream tore through the darkness.
Then I heard Gianna's voice: sharp, terrified, and shaking.
"No! Not yet! It's too soon!"