CHAPTER 7
Author: Lovstylez
last update2026-04-15 17:01:07

The door swung open and Andrew stepped inside like he owned the place.

The room went dead silent. Stacy's jaw dropped, Sophia blinked like she was seeing a ghost, and Lily's eyes went so wide they looked like they might pop out. Mrs. Ciaro froze with her tea cup halfway to her lips. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

Andrew stood there without a single scratch on him, no blood, no fear—just that calm, confident look that made no sense at all.

Then Emilia moved. She didn't walk, she ran straight into his chest and wrapped her arms around him so tight he could feel her shaking. "You're alive," she whispered, and for a moment Andrew just held her, letting the warmth of her body tell him this was real.

"You're alive," she said again, louder this time.

"I'm alive," he replied.

Mrs. Ciaro broke the moment first. "How did you escape?" she demanded, slamming her tea cup down. "Did Lesner let you go? Are you hurt?" Stacy and Sophia piled on with their own questions, their voices sharp and suspicious, but Andrew just looked at each of them and smiled.

"Lesner didn't let me go," he said. "I walked out on my own."

Stacy laughed—that mean, mocking laugh she always used when she thought someone was beneath her. "Walked out? From Lesner? The most dangerous man in Boston? You expect us to believe that?"

"Believe what you want," Andrew said, and his calm only made her angrier.

Mrs. Ciaro stepped forward, her face hard as stone. "Listen to me, boy. You need to go back to Lesner, get on your knees, and beg for your life. Apologize for what you did at the party. Maybe—just maybe—he'll let you live."

Andrew didn't flinch. "I'm not begging anyone for anything."

Lily crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "Then you're a dead man walking, and you're too stupid to realize it."

"Maybe," Andrew said, and his voice was so calm it was almost scary. "But Emilia's wedding to Lesner in three days? It's not happening."

The silence that followed was thick enough to cut. Mrs. Ciaro stared at him like he had just sprouted a second head. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

Then the laughter came. Stacy burst out first, loud and mocking, and Sophia joined in right after. Lily chuckled under her breath, and even Mrs. Ciaro let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh. They laughed like Andrew had told the funniest joke in the world, like the idea of him stopping anything was so ridiculous it hurt.

"Not happening?" Stacy wiped a tear from her eye. "And who's going to stop it? You? The handyman?"

"You fix wires," Sophia added. "You don't stop weddings. You don't stop men like Lesner."

" oh, someone should tell this boy that his pride is gonna get him killed. Lesner isn't like the screwdrivers you toy with." Lily expressed

Mrs. Ciaro pointed a finger at him, her laughter fading into something colder. "Lesner will crush you, boy. And if he doesn't, I will. That wedding is happening. Emilia is marrying him. End of story."

Andrew said nothing. He just stood there with that same smile, and that smile made them all uncomfortable in a way none of them could explain.

Emilia grabbed his hand. "Come with me," she said, and she pulled him out of the sitting room before anyone could say another word.

---

They walked down the hallway past the guards and the stairs until they reached her bedroom, and she closed the door behind them. Then she turned to face him, and he could see the redness in her eyes, the way her hands were still shaking.

"Where were you?" she asked.

Andrew didn't answer right away.

"Hours, Andrew. Hours with no word. I thought you were dead." Her voice cracked. "I was about to take men from the Ciaro cartel to go challenge Lesner myself."

Andrew's face softened. "You were?"

"Of course I was." She looked away, crossing her arms like she was trying to hold herself together. "You're my husband. Stupid marriage or not, I wasn't going to just sit there and let that animal take you."

Andrew was quiet for a moment, processing what she had just said. "I didn't think you cared," he finally admitted. "Two years of living like strangers, Emilia. You never looked at me twice. I thought you hated this marriage as much as everyone else."

Emilia's jaw tightened and she didn't answer. She didn't want to admit anything, didn't want to show her feelings, so she changed the subject. "What's your plan?" she asked.

"What?"

"The wedding. You said it's not happening. You said it in front of my mom and sisters." She looked him dead in the eye. "So what's the plan? How do we stop Lesner?"

Andrew studied her face for a long moment. "The wedding will happen," he said.

Emilia's face fell. "What?"

"You heard me. The wedding will happen."

"I don't understand—"

"Listen to me carefully," Andrew said, stepping closer. "You're going to wear the gown. You're going to go to the altar. You're going to pretend to marry Lesner."

Emilia stared at him like he had lost his mind. "That's your plan? You want me to stand at the altar with that animal and let him think he's won?"

"For a few minutes," Andrew said. "That's all I need."

"Need for what?" she demanded. "What are you planning, Andrew?"

He took her hands in his and held them tight. "I need you to trust me."

Emilia searched his eyes for lies, for doubt, for fear—but she found none. All she saw was something she had never seen in him before: certainty.

"My father trusted you," she said quietly. "He said you would save this family."

"Your father was right."

Emilia was silent for a long moment, the weight of everything pressing down on her shoulders. Then she nodded. "Okay," she said. "I trust you."

---

Later that night, Andrew sat alone on the edge of his bed in his small room at the Ciaro mansion. The gold crescent hung around his neck, and he turned it over in his fingers, watching the diamonds catch the dim light from the window.

Klaus's voice echoed in his head. Do not let Lesner take Emilia from you. There's a reason Mr. Ciaro betrothed her to you. A reason you both are about to find out.

Andrew's jaw tightened.

The Chappatti Cartel had already planned everything. They were going to take out Lesner—not in a brawl, not in a street fight, but strategically, surgically, the way his father would have done it. Klaus had explained the whole operation back at the mansion: every exit Lesner would take, every guard he would bring, every blind spot in his security. The hundred men in red were ready to move the moment Andrew gave the signal.

But everything had to go exactly right.

The wedding had to happen. Emilia had to be at the altar. Lesner had to think he had won, had to let his guard down. Only then would the trap snap shut.

Andrew looked at the crescent one more time and clenched his fist.

He couldn't tell anyone. Not Mrs. Ciaro, not Emilia's sisters, not even Emilia herself. Not yet. One loose word, one nervous glance, and Lesner would sniff out the danger. Then the wedding would become a massacre—and not the kind the Chappatti Cartel had planned.

Three more days.

Three more days, and Lesner would learn a lesson his father should have taught him.

Never touch a Chappatti's wife.

.

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