As Damian walked down the aisle with you in his arms, no one laughed.
No one whispered.
Not this time.
Outside the ballroom, the cold air hit your face.
Flashing cameras followed.
Security moved too late.
Leonardo shouted your name behind him.
“Valeria!”
You flinched.
Damian felt it.
His arms tightened, not possessively, but steady enough to remind you that you would not fall.
“Don’t look back,” he said.
You didn’t.
A black SUV waited at the curb.
A man opened the door.
Damian placed you inside gently, then climbed in beside you.
Your mother rushed out seconds later, crying.
Your father followed, pale and shaking.
Leonardo’s security tried to block them, but one glance from Damian’s driver made the men step aside.
Your mother climbed into the SUV and grabbed your hand.
“My baby,” she sobbed. “My baby, I’m sorry.”
You looked at her through half-closed eyes.
“You knew?”
Her face crumpled.
That was the answer.
The pain of it cut deeper than your bruises.
Your father stood outside the open door, unable to meet your eyes.
Damian looked at him.
“You asked me to come,” he said.
Your father nodded once.
Your heart stopped.
“What?”
Your voice was barely a whisper.
Your father finally looked at you.
“I didn’t know how to stop it.”
You stared at him.
The man who had taught you to ride a bike.
