The Bride Who Offered Her Husband to the Sea

My wife was the Marchetti Family's saint, the face they put on their pretty stories. In the three years of our alliance marriage, she only allowed hugs, kisses, and sleeping in each other's arms.

She always said true love meant resisting temptation, that it tested my sincerity.

But then, at my birthday sit-down, everything changed. She was pressed against the sink by her foster brother, gasping for breath.

She whispered, "Don't worry, brother. I've never let him touch me. My heart has always been yours."

Her foster brother's grip tightened around her waist, his breath ragged, and somewhere below his ear the muscle in his jaw was already working.

"Then isn't he useless as a man? Girl, you're wicked."

Adrian Marchetti chuckled softly. "He deserved it. He pushed me into this marriage, angered you into running out of territory."

The sting cut deep. I killed the screen on my phone, walked out of the hotel quietly, no sound to mark my exit. The doorman didn't so much as glance up.

On the drive home, I called Salvatore Marchetti, her father. The Don.

"Don Salvatore, the three years are up. Can I walk away now?"

"It's been three years, Rocco. Are you really telling me you haven't developed any feelings for Adrian?"

A long, weary sigh came down the line, the kind of sigh a Don doesn't let just anyone hear.

I stayed silent.

How could I not?

In the three years of our pact, even though she never shared my bed, everything she did had been the work of a woman deeply in love.

She bought us matching things, pouting playfully and saying, "One for you, one for me."

Even though the Family's business kept her moving, she never came back from a run out of territory without something for me.

She never missed a holiday, always throwing a grand party for my birthday, the whole inner circle watching her play the devoted wife.

Her kindness was the talk of every social club in Marchetti territory.

And that's exactly why, even though I knew this marriage was a transaction sworn under the Don's seal, I couldn't help but give her my heart, piece by piece.

But now I saw it all for what it was: nothing but a well-played game, a calculated act of revenge.

If that was the case, then I would take back what I had foolishly given her: my heart.

I remained silent, and Don Salvatore took my silence as confirmation. After a long, heavy pause, he sighed again.

"Alright. Since you insist, I keep my word. I'll arrange your leaving in half a month. But this stays between us. There's no walking away from the Family without my seal, and I'll grant it quiet. She's so taken with you right now, if she learns the truth, I fear she'll lose her mind."

I curled my lips into a faint, ironic smile.

Adrian? Lose her mind? Her heart had never truly belonged to me.

She had deceived everyone at that table, everyone who kissed the ring and called her the family's pride. But I had no intention of breaking her omert for her.

When I got home, I sank onto the sofa, the hours slipping by until nightfall, the harbor lights coming up across the water.

Adrian returned, her arms slipping around me from behind the back of the sofa. Her voice was soft and playful, like a kitten coaxing affection.

"Hubby, why did you leave so suddenly? You didn't answer my calls. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, I just suddenly felt a bit"

As I spoke, I turned my head to look at her, only to freeze. My eyes caught the dark red marks on her neck and my breath hitched in my throat.

Adrian didn't notice anything unusual. She nuzzled her cheek against mine, her voice soft.

"Hmm? You just felt a bit what?"

I forced a smile, my words barely escaping.

"A bit unwell."

She tensed, pulling away from me instantly. Her hand flew to my forehead, her gaze scanning my face with concern.

"How come you're suddenly sick? What's wrong? I'll take you to the doctor."

Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed my hand, ready to drag me out the door.

I gently pulled her back toward the couch. "No need. It was just a headache. I'm feeling better now."

"Really?"

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. Under the table, her thumbnail pressed a slow crescent into the pad of her ring finger.

Seeing the reassurance in my smile, she leaned in to kiss me, her lips brushing close.

"I have a surprise for you tonight, okay?"

I turned my head slightly, avoiding her kiss. My thumb found the band on my finger and turned it a half-turn, the way it always did when something old was bleeding again.

She paused, looking at me in confusion. I offered a faint smile in response.

"Did you drink a lot tonight? Go take a shower."

Adrian sniffed her sleeve, then chuckled as if trying to cover up something she hadn't quite caught.

"Alright, I'll go take a shower. Wait for me, okay?"

I watched as Adrian walked happily toward the bathroom, the smile on my face slowly fading away.

Sorry, Adrian. This would be the last time I waited for you.

When she returned, fresh from the shower, she found me already deep in sleep. She muttered something under her breath, then, as always, wrapped her arms around my waist and drifted off beside me.

What had once been a position that filled me with warmth now felt stifling, even suffocating.

The next morning, before we were fully awake, a hard knock at the bedroom door startled us both. In this house, no one knocked like that unless they carried the Marchetti name and knew the door would open.

Adrian frowned, then, with a tenderness I didn't deserve, she tucked the blanket around me and went to answer it.

Outside, Dante Marchetti pushed past her, his eyes immediately locking on me. His expression twisted with both fury and pain, the look of a made man who wanted to draw and couldn't.

He gritted his teeth, glaring at Adrian with barely contained resentment before letting out a cold snort and turning to leave. Below his ear, the muscle in his jaw jumped once, silent and ugly.

"Brother?"

Adrian lifted her foot, eager to chase after Dante, but then her eyes softened and she pulled it back. She turned to me, her gaze filled with something unreadable.

"Darling, my brother's probably upset. You should rest a little longer. I'll go check on him."

Before I could say a word, she was already rushing out, a little too eager to leave.

With all the commotion, sleep was a distant thought. I rose, made breakfast, and tidied the kitchen, the movements almost mechanical.

When I headed downstairs with the trash, a thought crossed my mind. I took the service stairwell instead, wanting a little air away from the soldiers who watched the front hall, something to clear my head.

But the moment my fingers grazed the door handle, Dante's voice stopped me. His words were heavy, laden with frustration.

"Adrian, you're such a liar. Just yesterday, you told me you've stayed pure for me, and now today you're sharing a bed with him?"

Adrian's sigh was soft, almost like a laugh tinged with helplessness.

"Brother, don't be ridiculous. Rocco and I are married under the Don's own seal. If we slept in separate rooms, the whole Family would talk."

"But believe me, I've never let him touch me. We only sleep beside each other," she added, her voice laced with a false sense of innocence.

Dante let out a cold, dismissive snort. "I don't care. Even lying beside each other is unacceptable. I'm not happy about it."

Adrian's voice trembled as she responded, "Alright, alright. Then what do you want me to do, hmm?"

His response was sharp, his tone possessive. "I want Adrian to stay with me for a whole month. You only sleep next to your brother."

Adrian hesitated, her lips parting with a soft "hmm" before his aggressive, demanding kisses pulled her under his control.

"Come on, say it. Yes or no? If you don't agree, I'll kiss your lips until they're swollen."

"Okay, okay, I'll figure something out. Don't be so rough; your sister still has to show her face in front of people, you know."

The tension in the room tightened and, unable to bear their lovey-dovey exchange any longer, I released the door handle and retreated in silence to the elevator.

Upstairs, Adrian was already sitting at the dining table, eating the breakfast I had made. She glanced up when I entered, her face filled with guilt.

"Darling, there's a run out of territory. The contact is really difficult, and Bruno and the others can't handle it. I have to go; it might take a month." As she spoke, she pressed her thumbnail into the pad of her ring finger, leaving a small crescent I had never learned to read until now.

I froze for a moment, taken aback by her excuse.

In the first year of our marriage, she had gone on a three-day run out of territory. I ended up in a hospital bed with a gastric bleed, left alone, with no one at my side.

When she came back and found out, she immediately swore to the whole Family that she'd never leave on another run. She would rather hand off every out-of-territory contact than be away from me for a single day.

That was the moment she earned her name as the Family's own picture of pure, devoted love.

Now, with her true love back under this roof, it was no surprise she had conveniently forgotten all those things she once pretended to care about.

I nodded at her, the weight of it settling over me. "Then I'll pack your luggage."

As I opened the suitcase that hadn't seen daylight in a long time, a sketch slipped out.

I picked it up. It was the draft of the ring I was wearing at that very moment. Inside the setting of the diamond, two letters were hidden: DA.

The man who designed that ring? Dante.

A chill ran through me. My thumb found the band on my finger and turned it a half-turn before I could stop it, and my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

So, over the past three years, I hadn't just been a shield for the two of them; I'd been the silent vessel carrying the weight of their so-called love, sworn into the Marchetti bloodline to hold a secret that was never mine.

Footsteps echoed quickly down the hallway, the hard sound of a soldier's tread on old stone. I folded the design sketch without hesitation and slipped it into the hidden compartment of the suitcase.

Moments later, the door creaked open. Adrian's eyes flicked toward the suitcase, anxiety flashing across her face.

"Hubby, you didn't see anything, did you?"

I looked at her calmly, wearing a mask of confusion.

"See what?"

She pressed her thumbnail into the pad of her ring finger, then gave a sheepish laugh, trying too hard to sound light.

"Oh, nothing. Let me help you pack."

Once the luggage was zipped shut, she clung to me at the doorway like a child afraid of the dark, dragging out the farewell with misty eyes and soft pleas. Only after her tearful performance did she finally walk away, her heels fading down the marble of the compound.

As soon as the door closed behind her, I slipped off the ring and placed it gently into its box. The pale impression it left on my finger stared back at me like a quiet wound.

It's alright, I told myself. All scars fade with time, some slower than others.

Not long after Adrian left, the Marchetti matriarch showed up unannounced. No knock, no warning. Serafina moved through this house the way the Don's own shadow did, and the associates in the corridor stood a little straighter as she passed.

The moment she spoke, her words knocked the breath out of me.

"Rocco, are you suddenly planning to leave because of Dante?"

I couldn't bring myself to say yes, but I didn't have it in me to say no either.

My silence seemed to weigh heavier than any words could. Her sigh, long and weary, sounded even more burdened than the Don's had ever been.

"To be honest," she began softly, "we owe you an apology."

She looked away, her voice laced with guilt.

"Three years ago, her father and I started noticing how close Adrian and Dante had become. It is too close, closer than kin should be. So we thought, maybe if someone else came into the picture, it'd shift things back to where they should've been."

She paused for a breath as though the memory itself drained her.

"They're not blood-related, but they grew up under the same roof, both of them raised as Marchettis. And if we'd allowed those feelings to fester, forget the Family's name, the whispers alone would've destroyed them both. They were too young to understand what love really means."

"That's why we pushed you to marry Adrian, why Salvatore sealed the alliance with his own hand. Even when Dante ran off in anger and left the territory, we let him go. We thought it was the only way to help them let go of those feelings."

She looked at me then, eyes rimmed with regret.

"These past three years, watching you and Adrian, seeing how you treated her like she was your whole world, we really believed we'd made the right choice. But now Dante is back, and it's like everything we tried to bury is clawing its way up again."

As she spoke, she reached out and gently took my hand. Her palm was warm and steady, as if trying to comfort both of us.

"Rocco, you claim you never had feelings for Adrian. That might fool her father, but it doesn't fool me. The way you look at her, those eyes don't lie."

Her thumb brushed over the back of my hand and her voice dropped to something more tender.

"I honestly believe Adrian has feelings for you too. If she didn't, would she have treated you the way she did these past three years? Always shielding you, always thinking of you first? That kind of devotion doesn't come from nothing."

Just then, my phone buzzed twice, cutting through the stillness like a stone tossed into calm water.

I glanced at the screen. A message from Adrian lit it up like a flame that refused to die.

[Hubby, have you eaten? I miss you so much. Do you miss me?]

Serafina's eyes caught the glow of it, and her smile widened.

"See? Didn't I tell you? She does care for you more than you think."

Before her voice even faded into silence, a notification lit up my screen.

It was a social media post, an update from Dante's alternate account.

[Damn weather! I finally got to take my beloved sister to see the cherry blossoms. What happened? The sky tricks them into blooming early, only for them to fall within three days. We missed it completely. So heartbroken!]

The photo attached stung more than the words: two hands intertwined beneath a rain-kissed cherry blossom tree, its petals already scattered like broken promises. On the wrist in the frame sat the delicate watch and the marriage band I knew too well.

Serafina's face darkened the moment she saw it. Her eyes locked onto the screen and froze on that band wrapped around Adrian's wrist. Her hand went to the rosary at her side, and then she set it down and went very still.

"This wicked girl"

I didn't speak. What was the point? Scenes like these had become a routine, repeated enough to numb me. My thumb turned the ring a half-turn where it still sat in my mind, though it lay boxed on the dresser now.

She let out a sigh that carried the weight of too many regrets.

"Rocco, if you truly want to leave, I won't stand in your way. There's no easy walking away from this Family, you know that. But at least give Adrian and yourself one last chance."

I stayed quiet. But somewhere deep in my mind, a memory stirred.

The first spring of our alliance, Adrian had once taken me clear across territory lines, past everything that wasn't ours, just to chase the cherry blossoms.

She once told me that people whispered a certain thing about love that if you truly belonged to someone, you took them to stand beneath the most breathtaking cherry blossoms. That way the image of that person beneath the blooms would be etched into your heart forever, never to fade, never to be replaced.

That day the skies were clear, the breeze off the water just right. She stood under the blossoming canopy, her hand reaching out to me, her smile brighter than spring itself.

My heart skipped a beat. I reached out without thinking, drawn to her as naturally as breath to lungs.

I didn't know if I'd ever made it into her heart that day. But she had already carved herself deep into mine.

While I stood adrift in the memory, Serafina's voice kept echoing at the edge of my awareness. Her words blurred until suddenly, one sentence yanked me back to the present.

"In the face of life and death, true feelings always surface. Don Salvatore and I are arranging a little run out on the water for the four of you. There'll be a staged accident, just a brief moment where you and Dante go over the side. But don't worry. We'll have our own divers standing by beneath the hull. No one will actually get hurt."

"If Adrian chooses to save you, then you stay. You become the cherished son of this Family, made and blessed. But if she chooses Dante, our men will pull you out quiet, no one the wiser. From that moment on, she'll believe you drowned, and we'll bless her and Dante."

I stood there a long moment, frozen like stone, before finally giving a slow nod. She set down her rosary and went completely still, watching me the way a woman watches a thing she already knows the ending of.

After Serafina left, I drifted into the bedroom. My hand reached for a book on the shelf, worn from years of rereading. Slipped between the pages was an old photo, one I hadn't dared look at in a while.

In it, Adrian tilted her head toward me, her smile as radiant as spring sunshine. Her eyes sparkled with joy, unaware of the storm that would someday come.

As for me, I looked straight into the lens. A stiff smile tugged at my lips, but my eyes betrayed me. There was fear in them, nerves I hadn't known how to hide.

My gaze lowered to the line printed faintly in the corner, once my favorite:

"Anyone standing under the cherry tree looks beautiful; my love burns brightly for whoever stands there."

But now that line felt like a cruel joke written just for me.

I picked up the photo, closed the book with quiet finality, and stepped into the study. The shredder whirred to life. I let the photo slip from my fingers, watching it vanish into ribbons. My thumb found my wedding band and turned it a half-turn, though there was nothing left of it to reopen.

Ten days later, Adrian was called home to the Marchetti estate under the guise of a family dinner.

To keep things quiet, she and Dante didn't even arrive together. They slipped through the gates separately, like strangers pretending they weren't bound by the same secret.

The moment she laid eyes on me, Adrian rushed into my arms without a second's hesitation.

"Honey, I missed you so much. These days apart, that run out of territory, they were unbearable."

I lifted a hand between us, quietly stopping her. "Be more proper. Your father and mother are watching."

Only then did she reluctantly loosen her grip, though her fingers still clung to mine like a lifeline. Her thumbnail pressed into the pad of her ring finger.

Only God knew how long Dante had been standing by the door. He finally walked in, eyes sharp with cold disdain, the muscle below his ear working silently. He brushed past us with a scoff, his presence colder than the sea wind coming off the docks.

Adrian frowned. "Honey, don't mind him. My brother's just childish."

I nodded with a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.

Of course I didn't take it seriously. I didn't need to. Not anymore.

During dinner, Salvatore casually brought up the idea of taking the boat out after the meal. Neither Adrian nor Dante raised an objection.

As we stood on the pier, right before stepping aboard the yacht, I looked down at Adrian's hand in mine. The question I'd buried deep finally rose to the surface.

"If Dante and I both went into the sea," I asked softly, "who would you save first?"

She turned back with a playful smile and tapped the tip of my nose.

"Of course I'd save my husband. My brother can swim just fine."

I smiled, though something inside me tightened.

Adrian, liars always paid the price.

The yacht cut steadily into deeper water, its wake vanishing beneath the endless blue.

On the lower deck, Salvatore and Adrian were fishing, their laughter drifting up now and then with the salt breeze. I made my way to the upper deck, letting the wind brush across my face as I stared into the vast, shimmering horizon. Our destination was getting closer.

Then came a voice behind me, sharp as a knife.

"Rocco. That question you asked Adrian before we boarded. I wanted the answer too. So go to hell."

I had barely turned before a force slammed into my back.

He shoved me hard over the railing.

The sea swallowed me whole.

Moments later I heard a splash. He had gone in after me.

"Help!" Dante's voice tore across the water as he surfaced first, shouting toward the yacht.

I barely broke the surface, coughing and flailing in the waves, only to be met with a brutal kick straight to my chest.

The saltwater burned my throat. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs.

The moment the pain seared through my chest, my mouth opened against my will and seawater rushed in like punishment. I choked and coughed, but it only dragged me deeper into the abyss.

Just as I fought to rise, another weight pressed down, and someone stepped on my shoulder, shoving me farther beneath the surface. My limbs flailed weakly. By the time I broke through the waves again, I had drifted far from the yacht.

From above, I vaguely heard Serafina's panicked voice ring out.

"Adrian! Hurry! Save Rocco, he can't swim!"

I saw her dive into the water without hesitation.

But she swam straight toward Dante.

He clung to her shoulder like a lifeline, panic smeared across his face.

"Adrian, my leg is cramped. Please, save me first, okay?"

She glanced toward me just once, her eyes flickering with hesitation. Her thumbnail dug into her ring finger even there, in the water.

Then she gritted her teeth and turned away, dragging Dante back toward the boat.

"Rocco, hold on! I'll save my brother first, then I'll come back for you!"

But I had already swallowed too much water. My limbs were heavy and numb. The strength to hold on was slipping through my fingers like wet sand.

After hauling Dante aboard, she didn't dive back in right away.

Dante clung tightly to her hand, refusing to let go.

"Adrian, don't leave me. I'm scared."

Watching the two of them wrestle on deck, I felt my limbs turn to lead. I couldn't move. The cold wrapped around me like chains, dragging me downward.

As the seawater crept over my lips, a strange, ridiculous thought floated to the surface of my fading mind:

'If someone saves me now, I'll swear myself into their bloodline, willingly, and take the ring and the oath and all of it.'

And just like that, a wave slammed into me, silencing the thought.

The tide carried me farther, and my vision blurred as the sea swallowed me whole.