The teapot hit the marble floor without breaking, but the maid’s scream split my dining room apart. By the time I looked from the burn spreading across Elena’s arm to the woman wearing my engagement ring, I already knew Camille had just shown me exactly who she was—and she had done it in front of everyone.

Six months later.

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the rolling hills of Tuscany, illuminating the ancient stone villas, olive groves, and cypress trees of Florence.

On the private terrace of a hill-side estate overlooking the famous Duomo cathedral, a small, intimate wedding ceremony was taking place.

There were no press cameras, no corrupt politicians, and no corporate lobbyists.

Present were only those who truly mattered: Elena’s mother, Marco, Dr. Reynolds, and a dozen estate staff members who had been flown to Italy on my private jet as our honored guests.

Elena walked down the aisle of white roses wearing a breathtaking gown of Italian lace. She looked like a vision from a Renaissance painting.

I stood at the altar wearing a dark blue bespoke suit, my heart beating with a fierce, profound happiness I had never believed I was capable of feeling.

When she reached my side, I took her hands in mine. The silver scar on her left forearm was visible beneath the sheer lace of her sleeve—no longer a symbol of pain, but a badge of honor that had led us to this moment.

The Italian magistrate read the vows in a deep, melodic voice.

"Gabriel Moretti, do you take Elena Brooks to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, until death do you part?"

"I do," I answered without a second of hesitation, looking deep into her eyes.

"And do you, Elena Brooks, take Gabriel Moretti to be your lawful wedded husband?"

"I do," Elena whispered, tears of pure joy glistening in her eyes.

"Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

I wrapped my arms around Elena’s waist, pulling her close and pressing my lips to hers as our guests broke into enthusiastic applause and cheers. Marco wiped a rare tear from his eye, while Elena’s mother clapped joyfully.

I pulled a small velvet box from my pocket and opened it.