It's funny how you can be dressed in silk and still feel like you're being led to slaughter.
The gown was custom—black velvet with delicate silver threading that shimmered like moonlight. It cinched my waist and hugged every dangerous curve like it was designed to draw blood. A thigh-high slit, plunging neckline, and a dramatic open back that would make saints forget their vows. My curls were coiled and pinned with sharp silver clips, and my makeup? Smokey. Bold. Lethal.
In the mirror, I looked untouchable.
Unbothered.
Unkillable.
And yet inside, I could feel the dread coiling in my stomach like a well-fed serpent.
I checked my phone.
Best Bitch 🖤
Faye:U alive?
Faye:I heard it's the whole Rivera Hunger Games tonight
Faye:Blink twice if you need me to call in a bomb threat 💣
I laughed under my breath and quickly typed back:
Me:Not yet dead. Might commit murder tho.
Me:And you're too pretty for jail.
Faye:So are you babe. But I'll burn the place down if you say the word.
Faye Hadid had been in my life since I was fourteen. We met when I was forced to go to a diplomatic boarding school for "behavioral polishing." She was the only person who didn't look at me like a Rivera—but like a girl. She once snuck me out through the laundry chute just to avoid a dinner with international delegates. That's when I knew she was a keeper.
Faye:You look hot tonight? Tell me you look hot.
Me:Like vengeance wrapped in velvet.
Faye:Bitch I'm SCREAMING. Go show those mafia trolls what a queen looks like.
I smiled, then slipped the phone away. Time to face the circus.
The Rivera estate had transformed into something out of a gothic fairytale. The chandelier sparkled like frozen fire. String instruments played in the background, soft enough to soothe egos but sharp enough to keep people alert. Servers glided across the ballroom floor with champagne and cold stares.
I made my entrance like a blade.
Eyes snapped to me like a magnet had pulled them all at once. Men whispered. Women stiffened. Laura's eyes narrowed so hard I thought she might implode.
Someone whispered, "Is that… Aliana?"
Damn right it is.
My heels clicked as I stepped onto the marble floor, and the hush that followed was deafening. Conversations paused. Heads tilted. No one had seen me since the last scandal. They probably thought I'd show up in handcuffs or not at all.
I didn't give them the satisfaction.
"Look who finally decided to join the living," came a voice like sugar-coated poison.
Laura.
Wearing something that tried to compete with my dress and failed spectacularly.
"You say that like I haven't been here running this empire behind the scenes," I replied coolly, picking up a glass of champagne from a tray. "But don't worry, Laura. You sparkle just enough to be a distraction."
Her jaw clenched. "You're still just adopted."
"And yet," I said sweetly, taking a sip, "I'm the one Dad trusts to wear black and carry a blade."
She flinched.
Victor, seated nearby with a drink in hand, chuckled. "Still quick with that mouth of yours, Aliana. Reminds me of your mother."
I froze for half a second. He knew how to dig under the skin.
I smiled politely. "Reminds me of your last failed coup. Didn't end well either."
His chuckle died.
I moved past them, weaving through the snakes in dresses and suits, smiling when necessary, staring coldly when required. Everyone was here—Riveras from old money, council members, "business partners," and loyal wolves I didn't even recognize.
The whole ballroom glittered with danger.
And then my father appeared on the small elevated stage, flanked by two guards, commanding silence with just his presence. The music dimmed, and everyone turned.
He didn't need a microphone.
His voice rang out like thunder laced in silk.
"My family. My allies. My blood. Thank you for joining me tonight as we mark the beginning of a new era."
A beat.
I stared, my face a picture of perfect calm. No one could see the dread crawling down my spine.
"For decades," he continued, "our feud with the DeLucas has cost us resources, men, and peace. But today… I am pleased to announce that the Rivera and DeLuca families have come to a truce."
Gasps. Murmurs.
I didn't blink.
"And to seal that truce," he said slowly, "there will be a union. My daughter, Aliana Rivera… will be marrying Simon DeLuca."
The entire ballroom went still.
Every pair of eyes turned to me.
My hand tightened around the glass, but I didn't let it show.
Instead, I smiled.
Elegant. Distant. Deadly.
The silence after the announcement stretched.
I could hear Laura's smirk from three tables away. Victor was watching me with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, waiting for me to make a scene—waiting to see me unravel in front of everyone like a little girl thrown into grown-up wars.
But I wouldn't give them that.
Instead, I raised my glass slowly, smiled like I was swallowing poison with honey, and toasted the room. "To peace," I said smoothly, voice soft but slicing through the quiet like a knife.
There were a few awkward clinks, some applause, some muttering.
And then I turned, slowly, gracefully, and walked out of the ballroom.
I could feel everyone's eyes digging into my spine, but I kept my head high. The moment I cleared the gold-trimmed double doors, my hand snapped out and slammed the glass into the wall beside me. It shattered like the illusion of peace my father just painted.
"Miss Rivera?"
Sebastian appeared almost immediately, silent as death but always one step behind me. I didn't even hear him come in.
"Are you all right?"
I turned to him, barely keeping my breathing even. "Do I look all right?"
He tilted his head. His unnaturally light grey eyes gleamed under the chandelier, catching the light like metal—strange, too bright. They always unnerved me. I used to think they were contacts, but lately... they looked real.
"No," he said simply. "But you look powerful. And that's more useful than being okay."
I stared at him for a second. "You always this poetic, or are you trying to butter me up before my breakdown?"
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Your father is waiting in the East Wing study. He figured you'd want answers in private. Shall I walk you?"
I rolled my eyes. "Walk me? Or spy on me for Daddy Dearest?"
Another small smile. "Why not both?"
The study was dimly lit, smelling of old books and power. My father stood at the far side, hands clasped behind his back, staring out the window like he was posing for a painting of betrayal.
The moment the door shut behind me, my mask dropped.
"You're selling me off like livestock," I snapped.
He didn't turn around. "Watch your tone, Aliana."
"I've watched everything," I hissed. "Watched you build this empire, watched you lie, watched you hide secrets from me like I'm a damn porcelain doll—but this? This is a new low."
Now he turned. Slowly. And his expression was unreadable—calm, cold, impenetrable.
"This is not a punishment," he said.
"Really?" I laughed, bitter. "Because it feels like one."
"You think I enjoy this?" His voice cracked like a whip now, low and sharp. "You think I want to give you—my only daughter—to the DeLucas? You think this is easy for me?"
"You could've said no."
"I did," he growled. "Twice. But they made their threats clear. You're the only thing they want. And if I refused again… blood would flood these halls."
Something inside me faltered. Just for a moment.
"I raised you better than to be reckless," he continued. "I trained you to survive. And that means sometimes, you do what you hate."
There was a pause. A beat too long.
"Besides," he added more quietly, "you don't know everything about this family, Aliana. Not yet."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, eyebrows furrowing.
He didn't answer.
I took a step forward. "What aren't you telling me?"
He looked at me then—really looked—and there was something ancient in his gaze. Something wild. For a moment, his eyes seemed darker. Not metaphorically. Literally. Like a flicker of something else passed through him and vanished.
I blinked, heart thudding.
"…What the hell was that?"
He said nothing. Just picked up a decanter and poured two glasses of scotch.
"You're angry. You're allowed to be," he said, offering one to me.
I didn't take it.
"You're selling me, and you think a drink makes it better?"
"No," he said simply. "But it'll help you sleep. And soon, you'll understand."
I took a step back. "You're hiding something. And I swear, if I find out you're lying to me—"
"Aliana." He cut me off with a voice like steel wrapped in silk. "It's your duty."
That word.
That goddamn word.
I stared at him for a long moment, fire swirling beneath my skin.
Then I turned and walked out without a word.