Luca's POV

My father's face twists with disgust as my stepmother claps a hand over her mouth, her whole body trembling like she might collapse. The air in the bedroom is thick with tension, the kind that makes it hard to breathe.

"Luca, you can't be serious—" my stepmother starts, her voice shaking.

"I'm serious," I cut her off before she can finish. "I'm not marrying Wren."

My father slams his fists down on the wooden desk so hard I half-expect it to crack. "You're sick," he snarls. "This marriage is happening, and I don't give a damn what you want."

"Yeah? Then you can go marry her yourself," I snap back.

I only called them here as a formality, to avoid a scene in front of the press. The wedding venue is ready, the guests are arriving, the tabloids are already circling like vultures—but none of that matters. I've spent all morning digging for proof to shut Wren up for good, and now I have it.

"Luca," my father growls, "Wren is pregnant. I don't know if she's told you yet—"

"I already made that clear," Wren's voice cuts in as she steps into the room.

She's already in her wedding dress—a mermaid gown my father made me pick for her, all because of some stupid family tradition. The sight of her in it is repulsive to me.

"How can you be so cruel, Luca?" Her voice wavers, but her eyes are sharp. "You're really going to abandon me for that slut?"

"Don't fucking call her that," I snap.

"Slut?" My stepmother repeats, her voice shrill. "So there is another woman? Is that why you're doing this? Who could she possibly be that you'd throw away Wren? You've known her since you were kids, Luca."

Wren doesn't give me a chance to answer. "It's Vivienne," she says, her lips curling into something ugly.

I don't stop her. I don't care if they know anymore. With or without their approval, Viv is mine.

"What?" My father and stepmother say in unison, their voices sharp with disbelief.

"He's been fucking her right under your noses," Wren spits. "Jane caught them on the beach last night."

My father turns to me, his face darkening. "Luca, is this true?"

"Yes, it is—"

His fist connects with my jaw before I can finish.

Pain explodes across my face, but I catch his wrist before he can swing again, shoving him back hard. My stepmother is crying now, broken sobs shaking her shoulders as she clutches the bedpost for support.

"That girl is barely an adult, Luca!" my father roars, his face red with fury. "I trusted you with her, and this is what you do? You defile her?"

"I didn't defile her," I snap, wiping blood from my lip. "I love her. And she loves me. I'd rather be with her than Wren."

"Listen to yourself!" my stepmother sobs. "You'd rather be with your stepsister? She's half your age, Luca! Did you rape her? Groom her?"

"God, no," I grind out. "It was consensual. It always has been."

"That doesn't make it any better!" my father hisses. "We'll deal with this later. But right now, this marriage is happening. You're not leaving Wren like this, not with a child."

"There is no child," I say coldly. "Wren is lying."

Her breath hitches. "That's not true, Luca. How dare you accuse me of that?" Her voice cracks. "I saw the pregnancy test myself."

I laugh, sharp and humorless. "Then explain this, Wren. I called your gynecologist. You had a hysterectomy two years ago—after your car accident in Bali."

Her face goes pale.

"You kept that from me," I continue, watching her lips tremble. "And I kept Viv away from you too. There's no reason for us to get married. Not when this whole thing is built on a lie."

For a second, Wren just stares at me. Then she laughs, a wild, manic sound that almost send a chill down my spine.

"And so what if I lied?" she snaps, her voice rising. "You're a monster, Luca. A horrible one. And I'm not giving you up so you can run off with that girl!"

"Where is Vivienne?" my father demands.

"I asked her to leave," Wren says smoothly.

My blood runs cold.

"So she wouldn't be bothering us," she adds, smirking.

My stepmother sniffs. "I saw her earlier. She said she got an email about an audition at some music academy in France. That she'd be back for the reception."

No.

My chest tightens. I shove past Wren, ignoring her shriek of protest as I bolt out of the room. The second I'm in the hallway, I pull out my phone and dial Vito, my bodyguard.

Wren chases after me, her dress rustling furiously. "Luca, you can't do this to me!"

The car pulls up just as a swarm of paparazzi materializes out of nowhere, cameras flashing. I don't give a damn. I need to get to Viv.

Wren grabs my arm, her nails digging in. "Luca—"

"I'm sorry, Wren," I say, prying her fingers off me. "You deserve someone who won't cheat on you. But that's not me."

I slam the car door behind me.

Vito glances at me in the rearview mirror. "Where to, boss?"

I pull up the tracking app on my phone, my pulse hammering as Viv's location pops up—still at the airport.

"Drive," I order.

We're not losing each other. Not now. Not ever.