The Italian Princess

Chapter Nineteen: Matrimony

Bella

The soft light of dawn crept through the curtains as I awoke in Marco's bed, the warmth of his arms around me. For a moment, I lay there, tangled in a mix of emotions and sheets, wondering how we had ended up here again. It was comforting and confusing all at once. With a quiet sigh, I slipped from the bed, wrapping myself in a cover and tiptoeing back to my room.

As I entered, Olivia was already awake, gazing out the window in a serene, contemplative pose. She turned to me with a playful smirk. "It's about time. I thought I was going to have to walk into his room and pull you out of his bed," she teased, her tone light but probing.

"I'm sorry. I overslept," I said quickly, feeling a flush of embarrassment as I darted into the bathroom for a shower. The warm water was a welcome barrier, giving me a moment to collect my thoughts and prepare for the day ahead.

We had a busy morning lined up. Makeup, hair styling, and the delicate task of slipping into our bridesmaid dresses without drawing attention to my growing baby bump. As I showered, I reflected on the complexity of my relationship with Marco. Each moment with him was a mix of deep affection and underlying tension, a pattern we seemed doomed to repeat.

Stepping out of the shower, I joined Olivia, who was already starting on her makeup. "Today's about you," I said, shifting the focus from my complicated love life to her upcoming celebration. "Let's make it perfect."

Olivia smiled, a genuine expression that warmed the room. "Thank you, Bella. I know things have been complicated for you, and I appreciate you being here for me," she replied, her voice soft with gratitude.

As we continued our preparations, I couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for my sister. Her happiness was a beacon during my turbulent times. Today was about her, her love, her new beginning, and I was determined to make sure everything went smoothly. Despite the personal storms, today, I would be there for Olivia, supporting her as she had supported me so many times before.

As I meticulously pinned the delicate veil in Olivia's hair, the door opened, and my mother entered, her presence immediately altering the dynamic in the room. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene, her usually reserved demeanor softening. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed, her voice echoing a rare burst of emotion.

"You look beautiful," she said to Olivia, her words infused with genuine pride. Then, surprisingly, she turned to me with a softer expression than I was accustomed to seeing. "You are glowing," she remarked, and enveloped me in a hug. Despite her warmth, the hug felt alien—my mother had never been openly affectionate, and her sudden tenderness felt awkward, though not entirely unwelcome.

Felipe's mom and Marco's mom soon followed, entering with smiles and adding to the festive atmosphere. The room buzzed with the excitement of Olivia's New York friends and the familial warmth of being surrounded by mothers who had stepped into roles beyond just in-laws or future family. As maid of honor, my role was not just to support Olivia but to ensure the day proceeded without a hitch.

Resolved to fulfill my duties, I stepped into the crowd to mingle, the weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders. The first person I encountered was my father, his presence casting a shadow over the brightness of the day. "Bella. I didn't think they would let you out in your condition," he remarked coldly, his eyes darting to my stomach with a disdain that was all too familiar.

"The only condition I am in is figuring how fast I can get your ass off my throne," I retorted, my voice steady despite the tumult inside. His smile faded, replaced by a look of contempt. "As long as you carry that child, no one in Italy will support you. I promise you," he hissed before turning away.