I Picked A Blind Match Husband — My Adopted Brother Showed Up With A Bomb Chapter 02
The Medal
I walk out without looking back. My feet are torn and bleeding, but I barely feel the pain.
A burning stare follows me the whole way.
I’m rounding the corner when a timid voice stops me.
“Miss Ferrante?”
It’s her.
She’s holding a tarnished St. Christopher medal with edges worn smooth from years of use.
I know that medal.
Last year, word reached me that the European operation had gone sideways — Luca was nearly killed twice, maybe even three times.
I walked barefoot to the Basilica of Our Lady of Sorrows, knelt on cold stone for three days straight, praying the rosary until my knees bled through my dress.
I had that medal blessed him. I sent it overseas through channels even my brothers didn’t know about it.
“This,” she says, voice dripping with rehearsed sweetness, “Luca gave it to me a while back. He said it looked pretty, told me to wear it for good luck.”
“I just heard from one of the staff that you were the one who had it blessed? That’s so kind of you. It kept me and the baby safe this whole time.”
So the medal I earned with blood and prayer, through every painful step and every bleeding knee, was just a cute little gift he tossed to his new girl to “wear for fun.”
Behind me, I feel Marco’s rage ignite like gasoline hitting a spark.
I stare at the medal for three seconds.
“Oh, that?” My voice is breezy, almost cheerful. “Forgot all about it. Picked it up at a gift shop outside the church — ten bucks for three. Thought it was cute.”
“But since you love picking up other people’s garbage, keep it.”
I don’t watch the smile freeze on her face.
Marco shoots her a look that could curdle blood, then falls in step behind me.
His voice drops low. “Sera. Don’t hold it in. I know you’re hurting.” He forces lightness into his tone. “Remember those files I put together? I have information on every eligible heir and made man on the East Coast.”
“Just pick one. Blindfold, dartboard, I don’t care. Point at a name and I’ll have him at your door by morning.”
I let him drag me back to my room.
Dozens of folders are stacked on my desk, filled with photos, backgrounds, and family connections. Marco wasn’t kidding.
I grab the one on top without looking and shove it into his chest.
“This one.”
Marco opens it. A complicated expression crosses his face.
“Sera… this guy might not be the best pick. How about we swap—”
“Why swap?”
A low, lazy voice filled with amusement drifts in from the doorway.
We both turn.
Damien Marchetti leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He’s tall, with a sharp jaw and fox-like eyes that always look like they’re laughing at you. His suit fits him perfectly, and his collar opens one button too far.
“Just because I’m Luca Renaldi’s worst enemy?” He tilts his head.
“Marchetti, you’ve got a different girl every week. Stay the hell away from my sister.” Marco steps forward, blocking me.
I push him aside. Look Damien up and down.
“You’re good-looking. Better than Luca, actually.”
Something shifts in his eyes.
“Come marry me when you’re ready.”
Damien straightens so fast you’d think someone had shocked him.
“Deal. I’ll go home and clean house. You should do the same.”
He steps aside, revealing Luca standing in the shadows.
Damien lets out a low laugh, strolls over to me, leans in close.
“Next Tuesday. I’ll come pick you up.”