The resemblance between them was impossible to ignore, the same sharp jawline, the same piercing gaze, even the way Vaughn’s hair fell in dark, unruly waves. It was as if Alessandro was staring at a miniature version of Rowan, and the realization struck him like a physical blow.
Father and son. The words echoed in his mind, growing louder with each passing second until they drowned out everything else.
It all made sense now-the tension, the hostility that had been simmering beneath the surface between him and Rowan for months. Rowan had been a thorn in his side, a relentless adversary, and now Alessandro understood why. Rowan hadn’t just been opposing him for business or territory; this was personal. Rowan had a stake in this that went far beyond the typical rivalry between the Falcone and Moretti families. Alessandro could see it now, the possessiveness in Rowan’s gaze as he watched over Vaughn, the subtle but undeniable protectiveness in the way he held the boy.
Alessandro’s thoughts raced, his mind a tangled web of confusion, anger, and bitter betrayal. Amara had always been an enigma to him, a woman with secrets she guarded fiercely. But this-this was beyond anything he had imagined. She had hidden this from him, kept him in the dark about the true identity of Vaughn’s father. He had been so blind, so trusting, and now the truth was a knife twisting in his gut.
He stole a glance at Amara, and what he saw only fueled the fire of his anger. She was sitting on the edge of her seat, her body tense, her eyes filled with a mix of anxiety and dread. She looked as though she was sitting on needles, every muscle in her body coiled tight as if ready to spring. Alessandro knew that look-she was afraid, but not just of Rowan. She was afraid of the truth coming out, of the fragile facade she had built crumbling to pieces.
But what struck Alessandro the most was Rowan’s reaction. Despite the unmistakable bond between him and Vaughn, Rowan’s expression was one of confusion rather than understanding. He was watching Vaughn with a mix of curiosity and something else-something deeper, more primal-but it was clear that Rowan didn’t know the boy was his son. The thought sent a chill down Alessandro’s spine. Could it be that Amara had kept this secret from Rowan as well? The idea of her playing both of them, manipulating them with such cold calculation, was almost too much to bear.
Alessandro’s mind reeled as he considered the implications. The enmity between the Falcone and Moretti families ran deep, their rivalry a blood feud that had spanned generations. The idea of Amara and Rowan being involved, of Vaughn being the product of such a union, was unthinkable. It was a scandal that could tear both families apart, ignite a war the likes of which neither had seen before. But beyond the political ramifications, Alessandro felt a deep, personal sting. He had been prepared to marry Amara, to make her his, and now he realized he had been nothing more than a pawn in her game.
A dark glint flickered in Alessandro’s eyes as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. He could feel the anger rising within him, a cold, calculated fury that replaced the initial shock. If Rowan didn’t know the truth, that meant Alessandro still had the upper hand. He could use this knowledge, turn it to his advantage. A smirk curled at the corner of his lips as he considered his next move. This wasn’t over, not by a long shot. In fact, it was just beginning… a beginning of his power.. his era.. his life..
Amara had been so careful, so meticulous in her deception, but she had underestimated him. She had underestimated the lengths he would go to protect what was his, to maintain control over his life and his future. Alessandro’s smirk deepened as he watched the silent exchange between Rowan and Amara. She was on edge, teetering on the brink of panic, and he relished the sight. She had played her cards well, but now it was his turn.
He leaned back in his seat, feigning a casual indifference as he observed the scene playing out before him. Vaughn was oblivious to the tension, content in Rowan’s lap, his small hands gripping Rowan’s shirt as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Alessandro’s mind churned with possibilities, strategies forming in the dark recesses of his thoughts. He would bide his time, wait for the perfect moment to strike. When the truth finally came out, it would be on his terms, and the fallout would be devastating for everyone involved.
The ceremony ended, the newlyweds sharing a tender kiss as the guests erupted into applause.
Rowan, however, was not focused on the happy couple. His gaze was fixed on Amara, watching the way her eyes gleamed as she observed the scene before her. There was a softness to her expression, a rare glimpse of vulnerability that she rarely let slip through her carefully constructed facade. It was a sight that tugged at something deep within him.
Without thinking, he leaned in close, his voice a low murmur against the noise of the crowd. “Where would you like to get married?”
Amara blinked, her breath catching in her throat. She turned to face him, her brow furrowed in confusion. Had she heard him correctly? Surely, she must have misheard. “What?”
Rowan’s gaze remained steady, his expression unreadable. “Where would you like to get married?” he repeated, his tone even, almost casual, as if he were asking her something as simple as her favorite color.
For a moment, Amara was at a loss for words. The question was so unexpected, so out of place, that it took her a few seconds to process it. She had never given much thought to where she would like to be married, not even when she was getting married to Alessandro in few months.. but she never thought about where she wanted to get married..
But now, Rowan was asking her, as if it was his right to do so, as if she would be marrying him and not Alessandro. The audacity of it, the sheer presumption, made her blood boil. A mocking smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she decided to play along with his little game, if only to show him how ridiculous the whole thing was.
“In a castle built of diamonds,” she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She expected him to laugh, to see the absurdity of the statement and move on. But Rowan didn’t laugh. His eyes remained locked on hers, a flicker of something dark and unreadable passing through them.
“Then that’s what you’ll have,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a sincerity that took her by surprise.
Amara’s mocking smile faltered, confusion clouding her thoughts. She searched his face, trying to find the joke in his words, but all she saw was a determined intensity that made her heart skip a beat. What was he saying? Was he actually serious? The idea was preposterous. She was marrying Alessandro. That was the plan, the arrangement that had been set in motion long ago. Rowan had no place in that future.
And yet, here he was, speaking as if he could rewrite the narrative with a single sentence, as if he could change everything with just a few words. The sheer confidence in his voice, the unwavering conviction, made her feel as though the ground beneath her feet was shifting, destabilizing everything she had thought was certain.
“Rowan, don’t be ridiculous,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “I’m marrying Alessandro.”
The words felt heavy on her tongue, like a weight she couldn’t quite shake. She expected Rowan to react, to remind her of their stark realities, to acknowledge that what they had shared was nothing more than a fleeting moment in the dark. But instead, he leaned in closer, his gaze never leaving hers.
“You might be thinking you are marrying him Crimson,” Rowan murmured, his breath warm against her skin, “but you belong to me, Amara. You know that as well as I do.”
Amara’s heart skipped a beat at Rowan’s words, his voice low and possessive, sending a shiver down her spine, but before she could even attempt to gather her thoughts, Vaughn’s excited voice broke through the tension between them. “You like a diamond castle, Mommy? Just like a princess?” His eyes sparkled with innocent curiosity, his face lighting up at the idea.