Gia stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing the silky fabric of her navy-blue dress. The hotel suite was quiet except for the soft ticking of a wall clock. Her heart was louder. She adjusted the simple gold chain around her neck, took a deep breath, and grabbed the clutch resting on the bed.
A soft knock echoed through the suite. She opened the door to find Adrian standing there, dressed in a tailored black suit, crisp white shirt open at the collar. No tie, just like always — calm, confident, effortless.
His lips curled into a smile the moment he saw her. "You look beautiful."
Gia blinked. "Thanks. You clean up nice too."
He offered his arm with a playful bow. "Shall we?"
The drive was short, but Gia's nerves stretched it endlessly. The city lights gave way to a quieter part of town — tall wrought-iron gates opened slowly as they approached a grand estate.
The mansion was bigger than she imagined. Like something out of a movie — old, regal, cold in a way that didn't come from air conditioning. As the SUV rolled up the driveway, Gia's fingers tightened around her clutch. Her breath caught when the door opened and a woman, elegant and glowing, stepped outside first.
"Welcome, sweetheart," the woman said, eyes on Gia.
Mrs. Luciano.
She pulled Gia into a hug that was warm but oddly rehearsed, as if this wasn't the first time she had to act like someone's mother. Gia felt a little more at ease — until she saw him.
Adrian's father.
He stood at the top of the stairs in a charcoal suit, hands behind his back, the same unreadable stare fixed on them. And then she saw Adrian's face. His usual warmth was gone, replaced with that same blank expression. It hit her like a slap — this was the first time she'd seen him like that. Emotionless. Like his father.
She looked at the other people standing nearby — Adrian's siblings, maybe cousins. Everyone wore smiles, but their eyes… they whispered, judged, and watched her too closely.
Gia swallowed and forced a smile.
He hadn't expected to see his father.
When he stepped out of the car with Gia on his arm, he saw his mother standing alone on the steps, her posture poised but welcoming — as she always was. He smiled inwardly. That's my mother. A master of grace.
But then, his breath hitched.
Behind her, standing like a damn ghost from the past, was his father.
He didn't let it show. Not even in the twitch of a brow.
He slipped on the expression he'd learned to wear since he was thirteen — the one that mirrored his father's own. Cold. Silent. Watchful.
The family stood assembled in what felt more like a formation than a greeting. His uncle and aunt, his younger brother with his fake smirk, his cousins — all present, all stiff with politeness and curiosity as their eyes swept over Gia.
Adrian said nothing. He only pressed Gia's hand gently against his side.
Not tonight, he told himself. Not in front of her.
She had insisted on being the one to greet them first.
This was her son's moment — his choice, his guest. But when she turned to go out and welcome them, she found her husband already waiting, standing where she should have been.
Of course he would do this.
He hadn't even told her he'd be here.
Still, she walked out with her head high, past him, to the gravel path. She smiled for Gia. A soft, practiced smile. The girl was beautiful — uncertain but not weak. Nadia could feel it. She wasn't the type who shrunk forever. That kind of woman never lasted long in this house anyway.
She embraced the girl warmly, meaning it, but also signaling to the others: play nice.
Behind her, she felt the tension radiate off Adrian. She didn't need to look at him to know. He'd slipped into that quiet armor again, the one he wore when his father was around.
Her heart clenched.
She hated that look on her son.
She hated what it meant.