(Izzy POV)
My legs feel like jelly, but I force them to move. I stumble back to a seat in the ballroom, my boots thudding too loud on the marble floor. Marco's eyes are on me, I feel them burning from across the room, but I can't look at him. Not now. Not after that. He's Antonio's son. My boyfriend, my Marco, is the kid of the mafia creep Mom's marrying. My stomach twists, and I grip the chair in front of me, knuckles white. This can't be real.
The crowd's clapping, all happy and loud, as Mom and Antonio finish their vows. She's giggling, her diamonds flashing under the chandeliers. I want to scream. She's so blind, so dumb, tying us to this guy. Antonio Rossi. I've hated that name since I saw it in Dad's old files, scribbled notes about drugs, hits, dirty money. Dad died fighting guys like him, and now Mom's grinning up at him like he's some hero. I'm stuck with his name now, Rossi. It's crawling over me like a rash, and I hate it. I'm Harper, not Rossi. Never Rossi.
I slump into the seat, my thrift store dress sticking to my sweaty skin. The room's spinning, all gold and noise, and I can't breathe right. Marco's Antonio's son. How? How didn't I know? Last night, he was mine, kissing me, laughing, making it official. We were drunk and happy, tangled up in my dorm. Now he's family? Step-brother? The word tastes sour, and I swallow hard, trying not to puke. His stare's still there, hot and heavy, but I keep my eyes on the floor. I can't face him. Not yet.
Antonio's voice cuts through the cheers, deep and loud. "Family unity," he says, holding Mom's hand like some big shot. "That's what today's about. One family, strong together." The crowd eats it up, clapping again, but it hits me like a slap. Unity? It's a cage. He's locking us in, Mom, me, Marco, under his rules, his world. I've seen what he does, Dad's files didn't lie. Blood, threats, control. That's what "family" means to him. And now I'm part of it, whether I want to be or not.
I risk a glance up, just for a second. Marco's still there, across the aisle, stiff in his suit. His jaw's tight, his hands in fists, like he's mad too. Good. He should be. He didn't tell me, didn't warn me his dad's a monster. I didn't tell him about Mom either, but this is different. He's tied to that blood, that dirt. My chest hurts, like something's cracking inside. Last night, he was my lifeline, pulling me out of the mess. Now he's part of it. I look away fast, staring at my boots. I can't deal with his eyes right now.
The clapping dies down, and people start moving, hugging, laughing, heading for the fancy food tables. Mom's all smiles, clinging to Antonio's arm. She hasn't even looked at me yet. Figures. She begged me to come, "Please, for me," and now she's too busy playing queen. I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. I shouldn't have come. I should've stayed in my dorm, sketching Marco, pretending the world's not falling apart. But I'm here, and it's too late.
Antonio's still talking, his voice booming over the chatter. "We're stronger now," he says, all proud. "One blood, one name." One name. Rossi. I want to rip it off me, tear it out of my skin. I'm Harper, Dad's girl, not this guy's. My head's pounding, a mix of hangover and rage. I think about last night again, Marco's hands, his grin, the way he said, "You're mine." It was real. Wasn't it? Now it feels like a lie, twisted up in this stupid family tie.
I shift in my seat, trying to breathe. The ballroom's huge, but it's closing in, too many people, too much noise. Marco's stare won't let up. I feel it, even with my head down. What's he thinking? Is he as freaked out as me? He didn't know either, I saw it in his face when our eyes locked. Pure shock, same as mine. But that doesn't fix this. He's Antonio's son. That's not some small secret. It's everything.
Mom finally looks my way, waving like I'm supposed to jump up and hug her. I don't move. She frowns, but Antonio pulls her attention back, whispering something that makes her giggle again. I roll my eyes. She's so gone, lost in his cash and lies. I wonder if she even knows what he is, what he does. Probably not. She's too busy counting diamonds to care. I lean back, crossing my arms. I'm not clapping, not smiling. I'm here, but I'm not hers anymore.
Antonio's speech drags on, all about loyalty and strength. Every word makes me madder. Loyalty? To him? No way. Dad taught me better, stay clean, stay honest. Antonio's the opposite, and now I'm stuck in his shadow. Marco too. I can't shake that, his face across the room, his eyes begging me to look at him. I won't. I can't. If I do, I'll see last night, us, happy, free, and I'll break.
Someone bumps my chair, muttering an apology. I don't care. I'm barely here, stuck in my head. Marco's Antonio's son. My step-brother. My boyfriend. It's a knot I can't untangle, and it's choking me. I want to run, out the doors, back to my dorm, anywhere but here. But my feet stay glued, heavy like lead. I'm trapped, just like Antonio wants. Family unity. What a joke.
The crowd quiets down, and I hear heels clicking, sharp, fast. A woman's moving through, short and wiry, her face all pinched and nosy. She's got a tray, but she's not serving. She's watching. She stops by Antonio, whispering something, her eyes flicking to me, then Marco. My stomach drops. Who's she? Antonio's head turns, slow, and she points, first at me, then him. I catch her name from someone nearby, Rosa. His aide, maybe. Great. Another pair of eyes in this mess.
Antonio's eyes narrow, sharp and cold, cutting through the room. He's done talking, but he's not done with us. He lifts a hand, beckoning me and Marco over to the stage. My heart slams against my ribs. Rosa's still whispering, her smirk growing, and he's listening, nodding. What'd she say? Does he know something? About us? I can't move, but Marco's already standing, his face hard. Antonio's waiting, and those eyes, they see too much.