Chapter 5 Till death do us path

The night after the man in the mask left their house was the longest of her life. Her father had locked himself in his study with a bottle of whiskey, refusing to reply to any of her questions.

And when she tried calling Audrey, he ran out of his room and snatched the phone from her. When she insisted it was just Audrey, his answer didn't change, instead he locked the door, and took her spare key at the back before returning to the room.

Whatever was going on, still hasn't fully registered in her head. The memory of a gun in her father's head over powering the possibility that this might be a dream.

But it wasn't.

Isabella stared at herself in the mirror with a deep frown the next morning, seething.

In less than an hour she'd be getting married to a total stranger.

“Shit! I can't believe this.”

“They're here to pick you up, amore mio” Lorenzo, walked into her room with a sorry look.

She glared at him. “Don't call me that.” She turned around and walked last him. “Until you fix this shit you just got me into. Mom was completely right about you.” She paused, “I should've left with her when I had the chance.”

“Bella...”

The wedding was held in a cold hall on the second floor of the city’s courthouse. At that moment it wasn't a room meant for joy. She didn't believed that her first time in the courthouse would be for this purpose. Marrying once and marrying right was never a thing Isabella believed in, considering all the relationship trauma her parents put her through, she knew none of that will let her see the right person at first, so she came to terms that she'll probably visit the courthouse twice for her second marriage, but this?... she's going to die in this stranger's hand before she even marry right. And this was all her father's fault.

There were no flowers, nor music. Only the sound of the busy city outside the large, grimy windows and her laboured breathing.

The guests numbered exactly four: the impassive guard who had held the gun to her father’s head stood by the door, a permanent scowl on his face. Her father sat in the front row of empty chairs, his shoulders slumped, fidgeting like any of that would change were this was heading. He hadn’t been able to meet her eyes all morning. On the other side of the aisle sat a a lady in a very dramatic dress and a veil, beside her was a severe-looking older man in an expensive suit, his father, she presumed. He watched the proceedings with the detached interest.

Isabella stood at the front, feeling like a statue in someone else’s nightmare. She wore a simple, knee-length cream-colored dress she’d pulled from the back of her closet. It was a dress for a garden party, for a summer brunch, it was anything but summer and party and they all didn't deserve this this absolutely beautiful and fucking expensive dress. She held a small bouquet of white lilies her father had thrust into her hands at the last minute, their cloying, funereal scent making her nauseous.

The door at the back of the hall opened, as the man still in his mask, walked in.

This was really happening.

He wore a black suit that seemed to absorb the weak light in the room. And the mask was still there. The smooth, black, featureless shell was more terrifying in this sterile, official setting than it had been in the shadows of his car or her father’s living room. He was making a vow before the law, and he would do it anonymously, he didn't care if the official looked at him weird, or I looked like I'd throw up.

He didn’t look at her as he took his place beside her. He simply stared straight ahead at the bored-looking official.

The official, a thin man with a weary expression, began to speak in a monotone voice, reciting words about love and honor and commitment that felt like blasphemy with the situation.

Her gaze settled on his suit, she could see the fine weave of his jacket, the way his gloved hands were clenched slightly at his sides. She wondered what he was thinking. Was this a triumph for him? The final, perfect humiliation of the man who had wronged him?

At this point she wasn't even sure if this was still about money.

“Do you, Isabella Vinci, take this man, Giovanni Christian Genovese, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

Giovanni?

That's his name?

“Ma'am this is where you say yes, I do ” The official leaned close and whispered to her

She cleared her throat. “Uh...yes, yes I do.” she broke her gaze to her father seating and watching everything happen like a movie.

He's really letting this man go through with this.

The official turned to him next. “And do you, Giovanni Christian Genovese, take this woman, Isabella Vinci, to be your lawfully wedded wife?

Until death do them part...

A single, hot tear escaped her eyes, tracing a path down her cheek as she stared at him.

“Yes, I do.” He answered firmly. Holding her gaze. “We'll work ok the rings later.” He added, and nodded at the official to carry on.

Shit!

Please, this shouldn't be happening.

Please...

She turned to her father one last time but he looked away, too guilty to hold her gaze, but that was all she wanted, she needed, for him to look at her, to reassure her that everything was going to be fine, that he would save her because the walls around her had begun to crumble to dust on her feet.

‘Please, do something.’

The official nodded, satisfied. “By the power vested in me by the state, I now pronounce you Giovanni and Isabella, husband and wife.”