“I’m finally getting married, son. After seven years… I’m finally getting married,” Jace’s father said as he poured himself a glass of wine, like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on him.
But it wasn’t just a bomb. It was a nuclear strike—out of nowhere.
Jace looked at him closely, narrowing his eyes as his father crossed his legs on the leather couch, calm as ever. Meanwhile, Jace was still in his sweatsuit, barely back from his morning jog. His headphones hung around his neck, and his heart was already pounding harder than when he was running.
“You must be joking, right? You’re kidding me,” Jace said.
His father didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile. Didn’t even blink. His expression was dead still—almost inhuman. Like a vampire staring through him.
“What do you mean?” Jace asked again, sharper this time.
“I’m not joking,” his father said flatly. “I’m serious. The wedding is happening in six days.”
“Six days? What the f—” Jace stopped himself, clenching his jaw. “What do you mean by that? To who?”
“You’re really starting to annoy me, Jace,” his father replied, sipping the wine like they were talking about the weather.
“I know it hasn’t been easy for you,” he continued, “losing your mom twelve years ago. But I’ve been alone since then. You were eight when she died. I’ve stayed single all this time—for you. But now, you’re twenty. You’re grown. It’s time I moved on. I’m getting old. I need a wife. Someone to take care of me.”
Jace scoffed. “You call that an excuse? I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready to have a stepmom.”
“You don’t have to be ready,” his father said, voice cold. “You just have to accept it.”
Jace glared at him. “Who is she? Some business deal in a dress? Or some woman who’s gonna ruin everything and act like she owns this place?”
“You’ll meet her tonight,” his father said, setting the wine glass down. “She’s gorgeous. But don’t stare too much.”
“I don’t give a damn,” Jace muttered and turned away, heading for his room.
As he walked off, he caught a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror—blond hair messy, blue eyes cold. Six feet tall, lean muscle—the kind of look people expect from someone raised in a mafia family. But deep down, he wasn’t ready. Not for this.
And definitely not for her.
It was exactly 7 PM when Jace heard the knock at the door. He was sitting on the stairs, halfway between his room and the foyer, just watching. He could hear his father’s footsteps echo across the marble floor as he went to answer it—calm, cruel, and collected as ever. Of course he was calm. He’d been waiting for this moment all day.
Ever since Jace’s mother died, he knew his father wanted another wife. He never said it, but Jace saw it in the way he looked at empty spaces. The only reason he hadn’t remarried was because of him. When he was a kid, he was traumatized. He was only eight years old.
They were out as a family—just going shopping. Jace didn’t even remember how it happened. A shot rang out, and she collapsed beside them. He never saw who did it. But now, after years of quiet investigation, he knew the truth: it was someone who hated his father. Someone who wanted to hurt him… by taking her away.
But Jace wasn’t going to let that go. He was going to find that person, no matter what.
He was twenty now. He had been training his body and his mind—sharpening both like blades. He wouldn’t let himself stay weak or broken.
Even now, though, the wound was still fresh. The idea of another woman taking his mother’s place? It felt like betrayal. That was the worst part. Every woman his father brought home—every smile, every laugh—felt like they were trying to erase her.
He knew it was selfish. He knew it made him sound greedy. But he didn’t want a stepmother.
He wanted his father to stay single.
Because no one… no one could ever replace his mom.
