I walked down the aisle believing I was marrying Luke Moretti. Then I lifted my veil.

Luke’s hand trembled so violently the barrel of his revolver shook. He looked pathetic. He looked broken. But he also looked desperate enough to pull the trigger.

Gabriel didn’t lower his weapon. His stance remained solid, an immovable wall between his brother and me.

“You broke out of the cellar,” Gabriel stated flatly. It wasn't a question.

“Your men are loyal to you, Gabe,” Luke choked out. “But they’re loyal to money, too. Callahan pays better.”

I clutched the photograph and the forged receipt against my chest, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm. “Luke, put the gun down. He’s going to kill Isabella anyway! You can’t trust a man who shoots children’s fathers and bribes politicians.”

“Shut up, Claire!” Luke shouted, stepping forward. “You don’t understand! You never understood how things work. I didn't want to marry you. I didn't want to trade you. But Callahan found out I was sleeping with Isabella. He told me if I didn't funnel the money and secure the Bennett land, he’d kill her. And he’d blame it on our family.”

Gabriel’s dark eyes narrowed. “So you orchestrated a hit on your own brother to prove your loyalty to a Senator?”

“No!” Luke cried, lowering the gun just an inch. “The hit five years ago… Callahan ordered it because you were getting too close to uncovering his offshore accounts. I didn't know about it until it was too late. I swear to God, Gabe. I took the fall for him because he showed me a video. A video of Isabella, tied to a chair in a warehouse. He said if I breathed a word, she’d die.”

“And Leo’s accident?” I demanded, the rage suddenly burning hotter than my fear. “Was that Callahan too? Or was that you?”

Luke couldn’t meet my eyes. He looked at the floorboards.

“I needed your parents in debt,” Luke whispered. “I needed them desperate enough to agree to the marriage contract. I paid a driver to run Leo off the road. I told him not to kill the kid. Just… hurt him enough to rack up the bills.”

A sickening wave of nausea washed over me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear him apart. He had nearly killed my twelve-year-old brother just to create a financial trap.

Before I could move, Gabriel stepped forward.

He didn't shoot. He didn't yell.

With blinding speed, Gabriel swung his heavy black cane. It struck Luke’s wrist with a sickening crunch.

Luke screamed, dropping the revolver.

Gabriel kicked the gun across the room, grabbed Luke by the throat, and slammed him against the wall. The plaster cracked under the impact.

“You hurt a child,” Gabriel hissed, his voice vibrating with a lethal, terrifying fury. “You hurt my wife’s family.”

“Gabe, please—” Luke gasped, clawing at Gabriel’s iron grip.

“Where is Isabella?” Gabriel demanded, tightening his hold.

“Callahan’s… country house,” Luke choked out, his face turning purple. “Upstate. Near the… near the creek bed.”

Gabriel dropped him. Luke crumpled to the floor, gasping for air and cradling his shattered wrist.

Gabriel turned to me. The violence in his eyes instantly vanished when he looked at my face. He saw the tears I was trying to hold back. He crossed the room and gently took my arms.

“I’m going to end this,” Gabriel said softly. “I will make him pay for what he did to your brother.”

I looked down at the photograph and the receipt in my hands. “What did Callahan bury on my grandfather's land? What is worth all this blood?”

“I don't know,” Gabriel said. “But we’re going to find out.”

Gabriel pulled out his phone, hitting a speed dial. “Marco. I need a clean team at Claire’s parents' house. Pick up Luke. Take him somewhere secure. The real secure house. Not the estate.”

He hung up and looked at the music box on the table. “Grab the box. We’re going to the upstate property.”

“Now?” I asked.

“We have the proof he took a bribe. We have the proof he forged a deed,” Gabriel said, leading me out the front door. “If we find what he buried, we destroy his career, his freedom, and his leverage over Isabella.”

We drove in silence for two hours. The dense cityscape gave way to rolling hills and thick, autumn forests. My mind kept replaying Luke’s confession. He had hurt Leo. He had orchestrated the debt. All to save a woman he loved.

It was sick. It was twisted. But as I looked at Gabriel, sitting beside me, his jaw set in quiet determination, I realized something.

Gabriel was risking everything—his empire, his life—for me. A woman he had married by accident less than twenty-four hours ago.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked quietly, staring out the window at the passing trees.

Gabriel didn't answer immediately. He looked down at his hands.

“When I was shot five years ago,” he began, his voice gravelly, “I lay in a hospital bed for three months. Everyone thought I would die. My father, my captains, even Luke… they all looked at me like a ghost. They started dividing up my territory while I was still breathing.”

He turned his head to look at me.

“Yesterday, when you found out you had been sold, you didn't cry. You didn't beg. You took off that ring, looked a room full of monsters in the eye, and said, ‘This marriage is over.’”

Gabriel reached out, his rough fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. The touch sent a shiver down my spine.

“You’re the first person in five years who looked at me and saw a man, not a mob boss,” he said. “You’re not an asset, Claire. You’re my wife. And nobody touches what is mine.”

The car suddenly lurched to a halt, throwing us forward.

Tires squealed on the dirt road.

“Ambush!” the driver yelled.

Three black SUVs blocked the narrow forest road ahead. Armed men were spilling out, raising assault rifles.

But it wasn't the guns that made Gabriel curse.

Standing in front of the blockade, wearing a pristine white trench coat, was Isabella Callahan.