CHAPTER 210 Showtime
*Joy*
“In due time,” Cristos hissed, his voice low. “Now smile, Virtue. Like your life depends on it!"
I stretched my lips into a grin so wide it felt like my face might crack. My cheeks quivered from the effort, and I eased back just a touch, letting my eyes settle on the podium ahead, where they all waited for me. The spring air buzzed with the hum of anticipation, the scent of roses thick and sweet, wrapping around me like a heavy shawl. A faint breeze stirred the petals, carrying whispers of the crowd’s excitement, their murmurs blending with the distant chirp of sparrows.
Kiki, my maid of honor, glowed like a sunrise in her sleeveless gold gown, the fabric shimmering as if it held the sun itself. Her smile lit up the world, bright and warm, pulling every eye her way. Beside her stood Jack, Liam’s best man, his black suit fitting him like it was made for a king. He stood tall, easy, like he belonged in the spotlight but didn’t need it.
At the altar, Liam waited beneath a canopy of blush roses and ivy, all smiles and smoldering eyes, his gray irises catching the sunlight like they were cut from storm clouds. His expression was so perfect, so heartfelt, it could’ve won him an Emmy. Lisa, my lone bridesmaid, floated in soft yellow silk, but her eyes weren’t on me or the ceremony. No, her gaze was locked on Link—seated in the third row, flanked by Sebastian and Xavier, all three dashing in their tuxedos.
Lisa’s gaze burned with a yearning that spoke of neglect, her husband’s indifference a wound she wore silently. Link’s sharp features and cool confidence held her captive. I noted it with a flicker of pity, sharp and fleeting.
*Pity*. The word tasted bitter. She didn’t deserve it, now that I knew the truth. She was an Ortiz, a blood relative of Doña Veronica, the *Boss* of the Angels of Darkness. *She deserved every bit of pain thrown her way*.
Cristos guided me down the aisle, our steps timed to the lilting strings of the quartet. Voices crackled through the tiny comms hidden in my ear, sharp and urgent, pulling me into a world beyond this wedding.
“Beaufort, we’ve got cameras set up all over the factory,” Lou’s voice growled, steady as a mountain. “Satellite imagery is giving us a clear view from above. Four big buildings, but the real trouble’s in the farthest one. Ten guards walking the grounds, four on the roof, two in a tower. It’s locked down tight.”
Dina’s voice came next, quick and sharp like a whip. “Primo, I’m in their system. Got eyes inside. Pete’s there, the sick creep, hurting a woman chained to a bed. It’s streaming live on the dark web, and he’s bragging about a ‘special treat’ for tonight.”
*Me*.
My smile widened, all glossy lips and bridal perfection, even as rage twisted inside me like a silk ribbon pulled tight.
"A car just pulled up in Cohen’s lot," Dina added. "Ah, it's Lorenzo Ortiz and he's with Dan. The circus is complete."
Cristos helped me step up to the podium, his hand gentle but firm. I pushed my anger at Lisa deep down, locking it away, and slid my hands into Liam’s. His grip was warm, too tight, like he thought he owned me. I gave Pastor Jeff a small nod, my eyes calm but sharp. *It's showtime*.
Under the soft canopy of roses, I stood in a Vera Wang masterpiece—lace, satin, and subtle power stitched into every seam. The gown hugged me like a second skin, its delicate weight a reminder of the strength I carried within. Liam began his vows, voice quivering with theatrical emotion. “I, Liam, take you, Virtue, to be my cherished wife…” His gray eyes shimmered, a single tear tracing his cheek, drawing soft gasps from the guests. But beneath my veil, my blue eyes were cold, unyielding, my mind a thousand miles from his crocodile tears.
My thoughts spun back to that night years ago, when I was just a girl in New Salem with dreams as big as the starry sky. Until *he and his friends* turned those dreams into ash. His gray eyes were colder back then, crueler. His hands unforgivable. His body a weapon. His name—once a whisper on my lips—became a scar I couldn’t scrub away.
But I survived.
Now here I stood, a ghost in white, marrying the man who murdered my innocence. And he didn’t even recognize the wreckage he’d left behind.
His voice kept going, smooth and heavy: “…to love and honor you, all the days of my life.” Another tear fell, and the crowd sighed, lost in his show. My lips curved into a smile I’d practiced a hundred times, but inside, I felt sick. I pictured reaching for my favorite bladed hair accessory nestled in my chignon—a lovely thing, delicate and deadly. I imagined dragging its blade along his throat, the spray of blood mixing with rose petals. I could almost hear the silence that would follow, the world holding its breath as his lies bled out.
But I stayed still. That wasn’t today’s story.
And this wedding... It wasn’t a celebration. It was a carefully laid snare. Every smile, every vow, was a thread pulling the noose tighter around Liam’s perfect little empire.
Soon, it would all be mine.
“Virtue Sullivan,” Pastor Jeff said gently, bringing me back to the present. “Do you take Liam Cohen to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
I stared into Liam’s eyes. I didn't blink. I didn't twitch. “I do,” I said, my voice smooth as silk, sweet as poison, the lie perfect. As he placed his ring on my finger, in my head, I saw the day I’d strip him of everything he cared about—his pride, his power, his life—leaving him empty, like he had left me.
“You may kiss the bride.”
Our lips met. His were warm. Mine were ice. I sealed our fake marriage with a kiss that tasted like ashes.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Cohen.”
After signing the marriage certificate, Liam’s arm slid around my waist, his touch heavy, like he thought he could hold me forever.
“I’m glad the hospital cleared you so quickly,” he whispered, low and possessive. “Is your ankle still bothering you?”
I smiled, the kind that looked good in pictures. “Not at all.”
“Good. We have paperwork to handle at my office.”
Ah, yes. The documents Link had drafted. Papers that would give me his world for safe keeping... Bless his delusional heart.
“Of course, my darling,” I purred, voice sugared and sharp.
As we stepped down from the podium, a man blocked our way, his shadow falling over us like a cloud. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Cohen,” he said, his voice slow and rich. "You make quite the couple." Lorenzo Ortiz stood out in his white tuxedo, bright against the soft colors of the crowd, his dark hair slicked back, his eyes glinting with secrets.
Liam stiffened. I didn’t.
"Lorenzo,” I said, my tone dipped in honey and barbed wire. “I’m thrilled you could make it.”
“The honor is mine,” he replied smoothly. “I’m only in town for a few more days, but I hope we’ll have time to… get better acquainted. Especially now that I’m planning to invest in New Salem.” He turned to Liam, hands in his pockets, looking relaxed but dangerous. “Shall we?”
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