27.MARCO RUSSO

"Christian, I'm really upset with you. Look at those cuts!" Mom frowned, gently tracing her fingers over the bruises on my face.

"So am I, Vivian," Aunt Stella replied, her eyes narrowing at her husband, who sat opposite us, completely unrepentant.

"I'm sorry, Vivian, but he deserved it," Dad said nonchalantly.

Christian Harper had earned his place at the top of my list of most intimidating people. He could've been a boxer if he'd wanted to be. I could've easily dodged his punches, but I knew that would only make him angrier. It was smarter to take them, letting him release his frustrations rather than making him more furious.

But Lia and my mom didn't think that was a good idea.

I looked over to Lia, sitting off to the side, her expression serious. She met my gaze, and for a brief moment, a small smile curled on her lips.

"Move your eyes away from my daughter, or I'll make you regret it," Uncle Christian growled, his voice dark with warning.

"If you so much as touch my son again, there will be serious consequences," Dad shot back, his tone low and steady, sitting next to Uncle Christian on the couch.

"Nope. My son is trained for this sort of thing,"

"Really?"

"Try him,"

I couldn't believe this. Was he really trying to escalate things further?

"Dante, stop acting like a child," Mom said sharply. Her words immediately silenced Dad, his usual bravado vanishing.

"Christian, if you make one more violent comment, I swear—" Aunt Stella's voice cracked with frustration. "I will divorce you."

I had never seen Aunt Stella this angry. She was always calm, collected, but now, she was on the verge of exploding.

The mention of a possible divorce had an immediate effect on Uncle Christian. He went quiet, his shoulders slumping slightly. But I knew he wasn't done yet; he was just holding back.

"We have more important things to discuss," Mom said, trying to steer the conversation in another direction.

"Yes, Viv. Let's talk about the wedding," Aunt Stella suggested, trying to calm the situation down.

"We don't have anything to discuss, because Lia is not marrying that man," Uncle Christian declared firmly.

Dad raised an eyebrow, his voice smooth."He has a name. MARCO DANTE RUSSO."

"Bastard suits him better."

"CHRISTIAN!" Aunt Stella's voice rang out, sharp and filled with authority.

Christian flinched at the reprimand but stayed silent.

"We certainly have a wedding to plan because I am marrying Marco." Lia finally spoke up, her voice calm but firm.

"No, you're not." Uncle Christian responded sternly, his tone cold.

"Dad, this is my life. I love you too, but you're being too much," Lia said, her frustration evident.

"Don't I have a say in your life?" Uncle Christian pushed, his voice rising slightly.

"Yes. Yes, you do," Lia answered, standing her ground. "But at least give me a valid reason for denying me this, other than the fact that you don't like Marco being around me."

Uncle Christian fell silent, his words caught in his throat.

"Exactly," Lia said softly, as if her point had been proven.

"Dad, just be rational here," she continued, her voice steady. "Imagine if Mom's dad did that to you and refused to let her marry you. How would you feel? Or imagine someone trying to take Mom away from you. Would you love that? If you don't, then you are doing something wrong right now."

Her words hung in the air, and I couldn't help but agree with her. She was right—Uncle Christian had always been a big part of her life, but as an adult, Lia had every right to make her own decisions. He was trying to hold on to her like she was still a child, and it was hard for him to let go.

Uncle Christian had always loved Lia fiercely, protecting her, spoiling her, and treating her like a princess. For him, she had always been his little girl. Now, watching her grow up and make her own decisions must have been incredibly difficult. It was clear that his love for her wanted to shield her from what he considered potential harm, but his heart needed to learn to let go.

"Dad, you did everything for me growing up, for which I'll be forever grateful," Lia continued. "You care about my happiness more than anyone in the world. But just think about it. Would I be happy if you didn't let me marry the person I love?"

There was a heavy silence in the room. Everyone was watching Uncle Christian, waiting for his response. It felt like an eternity before he finally spoke again.

"I am wrong here," he said, his voice much softer than before. "I wouldn't have liked it if someone had taken Stella away from me. And I would never be happy if any decision I made made my little butterfly sad." He looked at Lia, his expression softening with warmth and love. "I'm sorry, Lia. Marry him."

In all my life, I had never seen Christian Harper apologize like that—and mean it.

I felt a sense of relief wash over me. Finally, he had agreed, and the tension in the room eased.

"I want you to say sorry to my son, Harper," Dad nudged, his voice firm, demanding.

"Never. Consider this the result of every time he causes trouble for my daughter," Uncle Christian replied, unwavering in his stance.

"Uncle—"

"You've lost the right to call me 'Uncle.' From now on, it's 'Sir,'" he said with a hard edge in his voice.

"I will not cause any trouble for your daughter, Sir," I said, my voice steady despite the tension in the room.

"Such a gentleman," Aunt Stella (or rather, "Mam," I should start calling her) said sweetly, her tone lightening the mood a little.

"Okay, so now let's plan the wedding," Uncle Christian said, his voice filled with reluctant acceptance.

And so, the planning began. Uncle Christian, as expected, refused to let Lia move in with me at first, but after some strong protests from Mom, he finally agreed. It wasn't easy to sway him, but Mom's determination prevailed.

Mom and Dad began sharing their story, laughing about the "midnight snack" incident, which, according to them, was the moment they first started being attracted to each other. I smiled at the memories of their youthful love, even as the conversation shifted back to the wedding.

Uncle Christian eventually relented, saying Lia could move in after two months, and we agreed happily. The wedding was set to take place in a year at Villa Serafina, which had breathtaking views of Lake Como. It would give us enough time to make renovations, but the anticipation of that day was already buzzing in the air.

The doorbell rang, and Lia opened it to find Jo standing there, suitcase in hand.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jo asked, her frustration apparent. "I just got back from Milan, and I found my house locked. Abigail's on vacation, my parents are off on some romantic getaway, and I've been waiting for two hours outside. So, I decided to come here."

"We are not on a romantic getaway, Tesoro," Dad drawled, attempting to lighten the mood. "Though, I would love one."

"Yes, you're not. Then what is this?" Jo kicked off her heels in frustration, clearly not amused. She had inherited Dad's anger and fire.

"Would someone tell me what's going on? Why does Marco look like he's been beaten up?" Jo asked, taking a seat beside Uncle Christian (or should I say, "Sir"). "What happened?" She shot him a questioning look.

"Your darling brother proposed to Lia in Italy," Uncle Christian began, his voice gruff, "and I punched the hell out of him. Stella called your parents to have a meeting about the wedding plans. Lia made me see things logically, so I agreed to the marriage. Now we're moving forward with it. That's the gist of it."

"I should have known why Mom was wearing a new ring," Jo muttered, glancing at Dad. "You could have called me, Dad."

"Sorry, Mia Luna. I got so caught up in everything, and I completely forgot that Abigail was on break this weekend. My bad," Dad apologized, looking sheepish.

"It's fine," Jo smiled warmly. "Congratulations, brother and Lia. Sofia is going to be over the moon. She's been working hard to get you two together."

"Okay, who's handling the wedding planning? The flowers, cake, and all that?" Mam Stella asked, turning to us, eager to get things moving.

"Don't worry, I've got this covered," Jo chimed in confidently.

"I'm helping too," Mom added with a wink.

"Deal, Mom." Jo high-fived her, clearly excited.

"Come on, let's have dinner and celebrate," Lia cheered, her joy infectious as she motioned for everyone to follow her.

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