The reception was a lavish affair, befitting the Marchesi name. Ethan sat at the grand head table, Luca standing discreetly behind him. His father introduced him to an endless stream of billionaires and elitists, each handshake carrying an unspoken assessment. Luxe Haven Development Group was already well known in high society, but now, they were meeting the man behind the empire.
The evening flowed with seamless elegance. A live band played at the perfect volume—not overbearing, but filling the room with an air of sophistication. Glasses clinked, laughter intertwined with whispered business deals. Then, the first dance began.
Ethan stood, extending a hand to his mother. "Shall we?" Lydia smiled, placing her hand in his. As they moved across the dance floor, he felt no awkwardness ; Delilah had made sure he mastered dance and martial arts from childhood.
"You look beautiful tonight, Mother," he told her.
She let out a quiet sigh. "Ethan… I know I' ve made mistakes. I should have fought harder for you. I should have been there for you, no matter what. And for that, you have my utmost sincere apology."
His grip on her hand tightened briefly before he softened. "I forgive you," he said simply.
Her voice caught in her throat. "You do?"
He nodded. "Better late than never."
Tears welled in her eyes. "I love you with all my heart, Ethan."
For the first time in years, he let himself believe it.
As the music changed, Vitto approached, teasingly requesting a dance with his bride. Ethan stepped aside, only to be pulled into another dance. This time with Delilah.
"You handled everything well tonight, all things considered. How are you feeling?" She praised him.
"I'm fine. And all of this because of you and Dad," he admitted. "You raised me to be ready for this world."
Delilah's composure broke, her eyes shining with emotion. She squeezed his hand before pulling him into a brief embrace.
Then came the most reluctant dance of the night. Giulianna Marchesi, his half-sister, barely concealed her disdain as they swayed together. "You could at least try to get to know me before judging me," he remarked dryly.
She rolled her eyes, stepping away before the song even ended.
'Woww, Fastest slow dance of my life' Ethan muttered as she walked off.
During eating after the wedding, Ethan refused to drink any of the beverages offered. Then, Luca appeared at his side, offering a drink, Ethan accepted it without hesitation. Ever since the assassination attempt a few weeks ago, he no longer drank unless it came from Luca. Trust was a currency he couldn't afford to spend on anyone else.
But Luca… Luca was the exception. He had been there since the early days, back when Ethan was just a sharp-minded twenty-year-old with a dream and nothing to his name. Together, they had built Luxe Haven Group brick by brick.
He took a slow sip, the amber liquid warming his chest. His phone buzzed in his pocket.
> Ava: Congratulations on your parents' wedding.
A faint smile ghosted his lips—gone before it fully formed. She didn't have to text. But she had.. 'That meant something… didn't it?'
He wanted her to meet his parents. To walk through the doors of the Marchesi estate, hand in hand, and tell the world she was his. The woman who made his world tilt on its axis. But she wasn't his. 'Not yet.'
For now, Leo Vargas-Clairmont had her heart. But Ethan Marchesi never gave up on the things he wanted. He played the long game. Always.
Tonight, the Marchesi estate was unrecognizable. What once held the quiet weight of old money now pulsed with electricity. Chandeliers sparkled like constellations above a swirling crowd of Europe's elite. International DJs spun hypnotic beats, setting the tempo for a night that felt like it might never end.
Every corner of the grand hall overflowed with power and prestige—designer gowns, watchful glances, secrets whispered behind champagne flutes.
Ethan stood at the edge of it all, whiskey in hand, more observer than participant. This wasn't his scene. Not really. He preferred control, quiet, and strategy. Not flashing lights and synthetic euphoria. But tonight wasn't about him. It was about his parents.
Vitto and Lydia Marchesi danced under the chandelier's glow, completely lost in one another. They moved like no one was watching—and in their case, it was true. The room blurred for them. Their joy filled the space, effortless and alive. Tomorrow, they'd leave for a month-long honeymoon. And tonight, they planned to chase every last minute until dawn.
Ethan exhaled, scanning the crowd with measured calm. Despite the grandeur, his instincts remained razor-sharp. He'd learned never to let down his guard— especially not now. If he were Uncle Dominic… this would be the perfect night to strike. With everyone distracted, drunk, and dancing.
He glanced to his right. Luca stood nearby, blending in like a shadow, ever watchful.
"Something's off," Ethan murmured, his voice low.
Luca didn't hesitate. A curt nod, and he was already moving, sliding through the crowd like a phantom. Within minutes, he'd relayed the order to the security team, repositioning them quietly around the estate. One of the guards peeled off to follow Ethan as he moved toward the west wing, instincts buzzing.
Thirty minutes later, Luca returned, his expression grim. "Two lorries are parked near the greenhouse," he said under his breath. "No markings. They're loading something—heavy crates."
Ethan's jaw tightened, though his face remained unreadable.
Luca handed him a phone. "I sent a drone."
Ethan watched the footage. Shadowed figures moved efficiently, crates disappearing into the trucks under cover of darkness. This wasn't a supply run. It was theft. Or worse—smuggling. Drugs? Weapons? Documents? He didn't know yet. But he didn't need to act tonight.
Not until he had more.
More evidence. More leverage.
He slipped the phone into his jacket. Then his own phone vibrated again.
> Javier Rodrigo: Celeste Nocturne just dropped 15 new paintings at La Galerie Noire. Thought you'd want to know.
His breath caught. Celeste Nocturne. Stars.
His fingers clenched around the phone. She was still anonymous to the world. But not to him. Luca had uncovered the truth months ago. Ava Sinclair is Celeste Nocturne aka Stars.
She didn't know that he knew. And Ethan had made sure to protect that secret—because it wasn't his to reveal. Not yet.
But these huge paintings drop… It was unexpected. 'Fifteen. All at once?' Javier had even sent him a preview. Ethan scrolled through the images. Every canvas bled with emotion. Pain. Rage. Longing.
The brushstrokes screamed everything she never said aloud.
Why, Ava?
Why now?
He had quietly invested in La Galerie Noire solely because of her. Manipulated the market. Elevated her name. Protected her from collectors who didn't deserve her work. 'And now she was letting go of it all?'
His throat tightened, and he looked out over the celebrating crowd. The night had suddenly grown heavier. More complicated.