Page 59 of Of Vows and Betrayal

“You didn’t have to do that, Ophelia,” my father says just as the door clicks shut behind Dario.

“Would you have died if I didn’t?”

He remains silent for a bit longer, and I know what the answer is before he even speaks. “Yes.”

“Then, yes, I have to.” Despite everything, I can’t help but want answers, and today, in this church, it may be the only way for me to get them.

“Dad, one more thing.”

“Anything.”

“Why? Why does Javier want to destroy you?”

I see shame flash cross his face, and then he shrugs. “Why do people do things? I stopped trying to understand people’s motives a long time ago, Ophelia, and so should you. It will make your life far easier.”

“Yes, see you later.” I exit the office, and as I close the door behind me, I realize that even in his silence, my father’s lies are louder than his truths.

When I get there, I don’t even know what I’m going to say or why I even try, but as I take the steps leading into the church, I feel an almost overwhelming grief. The irony hurts because I know that when I walk down the aisle in thenext few days wearing a generic white dress for the stupid spectacle this wedding will be, it will be my funeral. With each step I take toward Dario, I will kill a little part of my soul, of my being, and I’ll be a ghost of myself.

I take a deep, shaky breath as I enter, the two guards following me closely.

The church’s cool, dim interior offers a temporary respite from the oppressive reality outside. The flickering candlelight casts eerie shadows on the ancient stone walls, and the scent of incense lingers in the air, mingling with the faint smell of aged wood. The weight of the silence presses down on me, contrasting with the turmoil churning inside.

One of them tours the grounds while the other remains by my side as I make my way to the confessional. He opens the door and checks inside before gesturing for me to enter.

“What did you think you would find inside? Houdini?” I mutter.

He gives me a smile devoid of any actual joy. “I’d be careful with that mouth if I were you. Mr. Carmine has a loose and heavy hand, and hiding bruises is harder than you think.” He jerks his head toward the open confessional again. “Now get in. I’ll be waiting over there,” he adds, pointing to the pews across the church.

Ah yes, the fear of the Divine—they will not cross the line and listen to confessions.

I sit on the hard, uncomfortable wooden bench and press the button to announce to the priest that a sinner is ready to confess.

After a couple of minutes, I hear the creak of the door, and Father Hernandez settles in before opening the smallhatch separating both sides.

“Welcome to San Miguel, my child. How can I assist you today?”

“Did you know?” I ask, my voice carrying my accusation. I intend to start small, ask questions, but this plan, like every single one I’ve made for the past months, has turned to shit.

“Ophelia?”

“Did you know?” I insist. “About Javier.”

His silence is louder than words.

“Ophelia, please, it’s complicated. Javier and Paloma?—”

I let out a tired laugh. “I’m not here for that. Everything I say here is confidential, isn’t it?”

“Yes, the sacramental seal is a fundamental rule and is inviolable. Breaking this seal is one of the gravest violations in the church and can result in severe ecclesiastical penalties, including excommunication.”

I sigh with relief. “You see, I hate that I’m here. I hate that I’m trying to protect him after everything he did, destroying my life with a smile on his face. I hate that I fell in love with him just to discover he was using me.”

“No, he cares for you. He’s beside himself that you’re not answering his calls, and I had to stop him from going to your house.”

I roll my eyes, even if he can’t see me. “The Gambinos know everything. They are telling me they won’t go after Javier, but I’m not sure you can trust them. Just tell him to watch his back.”

“What about you, Ophelia? I can help you—we can help you.”

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