Part 2 — Six Days Until the Vows
Part 2 — Six Days Until the Vows
The wedding was six days away.
Isabella worked.
She worked the way she always worked—completely, quietly, and without ever allowing anyone to see the cost.
She changed the roses to a deeper red at Rosaria’s insistence, and Valentina’s baffled assistant thanked her for finally choosing the “correct” shade.
Isabella said nothing.
She simply updated the seating chart.
She checked the lighting.
She confirmed the musicians.
She called the florist.
She inspected the kitchen.
She tested every microphone.
And every time Daario entered the ballroom, she treated him exactly as she had before.
Professionally.
Nothing more.
That was what he had asked of her without ever actually asking.
And it was slowly killing him.
Daario had spent his entire life believing that if he wanted something, he could take it.
Money could buy it.
Power could force it.
Fear could secure it.
But Isabella Ruiz had shown him something far more dangerous.
Sometimes loving someone meant letting them walk away.
On the fifth day before the wedding, Daario arrived at the venue just after seven in the morning.
He found Isabella standing alone beneath the enormous crystal chandelier.
She was holding a ladder steady with one hand while reaching toward a loose strand of lights with the other.
“You shouldn’t be doing that.”
She looked down.
“Good morning to you, too.”
“Where is the electrician?”
“Sleeping.”
Daario frowned.
“Why?”
“Because his wife had a baby last night.”
She returned to the lights.
“I told him to stay home.”
Daario stared at her.
“You remember his wife?”
“Of course.”
“You know the names of everyone working this wedding.”
“I know the names of everyone working every wedding.”
Something tightened in his chest.
“Isabella.”
She stopped.
He rarely called her by her first name.
“What?”
“You’re going to fall.”
“I’m not.”
“You could.”
“I have done this for eleven years.”
“I don’t care.”
Her hand paused.
Daario stepped closer.
“I care.”
The words hung between them.
Isabella slowly climbed down the ladder.
When her feet touched the floor, she looked at him.
“That’s precisely the problem.”
He didn’t answer.
She folded her arms.
“You need to stop coming here.”
“I have business here.”
“No. You have reasons.”
He almost smiled.
“You’re right.”
“I know.”
That tiny answer somehow hurt more than an insult.
Daario looked toward the ballroom.
Six days.
In six days, he would stand at the altar beside Valentina Costa.
Six days until the families gathered.
Six days until an arrangement made when he was twenty-four became permanent.
Six days until the woman standing in front of him disappeared from his life.
Unless something changed.
And Daario Marquetti had never been good at accepting things he couldn’t change.
His phone vibrated.
Mateo.
Daario glanced at the screen.
Three missed calls.
That was unusual.
Mateo didn’t call three times unless something was wrong.
Daario answered.
“Talk.”
Mateo’s voice came through low and urgent.
“Boss, we have a problem.”
“What kind?”
“The kind you need to hear in person.”
Daario’s expression hardened.
“Where?”
“Your office.”
Daario looked at Isabella.
She had already picked up her clipboard.
She was pretending not to listen.
He walked toward the exit.
Then stopped.
“Isabella.”
She looked up.
“Yes?”
“If anyone asks, you didn’t see me this morning.”
Her eyebrow lifted.
“That’s going to be difficult.”
“Why?”
“You’ve been standing in front of me for twenty minutes.”
For the first time that morning, Daario almost laughed.
Almost.
Then he left.
The Secret
Mateo was waiting in Daario’s private office.
Two men stood behind him.
Neither spoke.
Daario closed the door.
“What happened?”
Mateo placed a folder on the desk.
“Someone accessed the wedding security plans.”
Daario’s face changed instantly.
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
“Then find out.”
“We’re trying.”
Daario opened the folder.
Inside were copies of the ballroom layout.
Security positions.
Emergency exits.
Vehicle schedules.
Guest lists.
And one document that made his blood run cold.
A detailed map of the wedding venue.
Someone had marked a red circle around the exact position where Daario would stand during the ceremony.
Another circle surrounded the bride.
A third surrounded Isabella.
Daario stared at it.
“Why her?”
“We don’t know.”
“Who has access?”
“Twenty-three people.”
“Make it twenty-two.”
Mateo understood immediately.
“You think someone inside the family?”
“I think someone is preparing for something.”
Daario flipped through the pages.
Then he saw a handwritten note.
Three words.
THE BRIDE DIES.
Silence filled the room.
Daario slowly closed the folder.
“Cancel the wedding.”
Mateo’s eyes widened.
“Boss—”
“I said cancel it.”
“You can’t.”
Daario looked up.
“Explain.”
“The families will see it as an act of war.”
“I don’t care.”
“You’ve spent twelve years building peace between the Marquetti and Costa families.”
“And now someone is planning to murder the bride.”
Mateo hesitated.
“No.”
Daario’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
Mateo pointed at the note.
“The bride isn’t necessarily Valentina.”
Daario went completely still.
Mateo continued.
“Someone may have been referring to another woman.”
A terrible thought entered Daario’s mind.
He turned toward the window.
The wedding coordinator.
The woman everyone ignored.
The woman who knew every entrance and exit.
Every security procedure.
Every employee.
Every guest.
The woman who would be standing close to the bride when the ceremony began.
Isabella Ruiz.
Daario grabbed his coat.
“Where is she?”
“At the venue.”
“Get everyone out.”
Mateo frowned.
“Why?”
Daario was already walking toward the door.
“Because if that note means what I think it means…”
He stopped.
His voice became dangerously quiet.
“…the wedding isn’t the target.”
Mateo understood.
“The coordinator is.”
The Warning
Daario reached the ballroom in less than ten minutes.
The doors were open.
Music was playing softly.
Workers were carrying flowers.
Caterers were moving through the kitchen.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
He scanned the room.
Then he saw her.
Isabella stood near the altar, reviewing a checklist.
She looked up.
Their eyes met.
For one brief second, something passed between them.
She knew.
Not what.
But that something was wrong.
Daario crossed the room.
“Isabella.”
She lowered the clipboard.
“What happened?”
“Come with me.”
“I can’t.”
“Now.”
“I have three vendors arriving.”
“I don’t care.”
She stared at him.
“Daario.”
He had never heard his name sound like that.
Soft.
Concerned.
Personal.
He stepped closer.
“Someone has accessed the security plans.”
Her face lost color.
“What?”
“We don’t know who.”
“Is Valentina safe?”
“For now.”
“And the guests?”
“Not here yet.”
Isabella looked around the ballroom.
Then something caught her attention.
A small black case sitting beneath one of the tables.
She frowned.
“That wasn’t there yesterday.”
Daario followed her gaze.
His instincts screamed.
“Don’t move.”
He raised one hand.
Every guard in the room immediately reached for his weapon.
Isabella looked at him.
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
One of the security men approached.
He crouched beside the case.
Then froze.
“Boss…”
Daario moved forward.
“What?”
The guard slowly opened the lid.
Inside was a handgun.
A silencer.
And a photograph.
Daario picked up the photograph.
It was Isabella.
Taken outside her apartment.
At night.
On the back, someone had written:
SHE KNOWS TOO MUCH.
Daario’s jaw tightened.
Isabella stared at the photograph.
For the first time since he had met her, she looked genuinely afraid.
Daario stepped between her and the room.
His voice was quiet.
“You’re not leaving my side.”
She swallowed.
“Daario…”
“No.”
He looked into her eyes.
“Whatever happens next, you stay with me.”
And somewhere outside the ballroom, hidden among the morning traffic, a man watched the building through a rifle scope.
His finger rested lightly against the trigger.
He whispered into his phone:
“Target confirmed.”
A voice answered.
“Take the shot.”
The assassin smiled.
But before he could fire, every window of the ballroom suddenly went dark.
And Daario Marquetti realized—
the attack had already begun.
