Valerio’s leather shoes clicked against the polished marble floor with a rhythmic, lethal cadence that silenced the surrounding whispers. His dark eyes, usually cold and unreadable, flared with a tempest of controlled fury as he observed the scene before him.
"Get your hands off her, Veronica," Valerio said, his voice dropping an octave into a tone that made even his hardened lieutenants step back.
Veronica paused, her fingers still clutching Alessia’s bruised wrist. She scoffed, attempting to maintain her composure beneath the oppressive atmosphere of the room. "Valerio, darling, don't be ridiculous. She's making a spectacle out of nothing. She stumbled, that's all. It’s an embarrassment to the family on our wedding day—"
"I said," Valerio repeated, stepping into Veronica’s personal space until she was forced to look up into his cold gaze, "let go."
Veronica snatched her hand back as if burned, crossing her arms defensively. "You're absurd."
Dr. Cole ignored the confrontation, his hands moving with professional precision as he examined Alessia’s right leg. "Her spinal alignment could be compromised from the impact, or there’s acute nerve compression," he muttered, opening his medical kit. "Alessia, can you wiggle your toes for me?"
Alessia’s face was deathly pale, sweat beaded along her hairline. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she stared hopelessly at her right foot. "I... I can't. Cole, I can't feel anything from the knee down."
Valerio knelt beside Dr. Cole, his bespoke suit jacket stretching across his shoulders. He reached out, his large, calloused hand cupping the back of Alessia’s head, pulling her softly against his chest. It was a rare, public display of affection that sent a ripple of shock through the ballroom.
"Look at me, mia cara," Valerio commanded gently, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Look at me, not at her. You are safe."
"She pulled the chair, Valerio," Alessia sobbed, her fingers digging into his lapels. "She knew I wasn't looking."
Valerio turned his head slowly toward Veronica. The look in his eyes promised violence. "Is this true?"
"Of course not!" Veronica lied smoothly, though a flicker of panic crossed her face. "She missed the cushion! Ask anyone!"
"I saw it," a clear voice rang out from the crowd.
Lucian, Valerio’s younger brother and the head of the family’s intelligence network, stepped forward holding a champagne glass. He tapped his smartphone screen and presented it to Valerio. "The security feeds in the main hall are mirrored directly to my device. Frame by frame, Veronica pulled the velvet armchair back three inches right as Alessia lowered her hips."
The ballroom went dead silent.
Veronica’s face drained of color. "Lucian, you traitorous bastard—"
"Enough," Valerio growled. He stood up, towering over Veronica. "Security! Escort Miss Moretti to the lower holding rooms. She will remain there until I decide what price her family will pay for this insult."
"You can't do this to me!" Veronica shrieked as two towering men in black suits grabbed her arms. "My father controls the northern docks! You need us, Valerio! You need the Moretti alliance!"
"I need loyalty," Valerio cold-bloodedly replied. "And I do not tolerate snakes in my house."
As Veronica was dragged out screaming, Dr. Cole prepped a syringe. "Valerio, her blood pressure is dropping. We need to transport her to the private medical wing immediately. If the nerve damage isn't treated within the hour, the paralysis could become permanent."
Valerio lifted Alessia into his arms effortlessly, ignoring the blood staining his shirt from where her skin had scraped against the marble. "Prepare the trauma room," he ordered Lucian. "And call off the reception. Tell our guests the show is over."
As Valerio carried Alessia through the heavy mahogany doors of the estate, she weakly gripped his neck. "Valerio... what if I never walk again?"
He leaned down, pressing his lips firmly against her forehead. "Then I will burn this city to the ground until I find someone who can fix you. But you will never be alone again."
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What Alessia didn't know was that as they rushed down the hallway, Lucian’s phone buzzed with an incoming encrypted message. He glanced at the screen, his eyes widening in sheer horror.
The text read: The spine injection was administered twenty minutes before the fall. The chair was just the trigger. The paralysis is already irreversible.
