SUBSTITUTE BRIDE FOR THE MAFIA DON

The silence stretched between us, heavy and cold. My heart was beating so loudly it felt like he could hear it. I kept my eyes on his, waiting for him to get angry, waiting for him to do something worse. To my surprise, he leaned away But then, he leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. "Don't think this is over," he whispered, his voice low and menacing. "You may have gotten lucky this time, but mark my words, Denise - I will fuck you soon. Hard. Whenever and however I like. And you will enjoy it because you belong to me. Every part of you. Your mouth. Your pussy. Your ass." Dahlia Rivera has spent her life in her twin sister’s shadow. But when Denise vanishes on the night of her arranged marriage to ruthless mafia don Luca Romano, Dahlia is forced to walk down the aisle in her place. What begins as a sacrifice soon turns into a prison. Cold and unforgiving, Luca reveals she was given to him not for love, but as payment for her father’s debts. Trapped in his mansion, Dahlia braces herself for a loveless marriage—until she glimpses the man behind the don. As danger closes in and passion ignites, Dahlia finds herself falling for the husband she was never meant to have. But Luca doesn’t believe in love—and his silence could break her more than any enemy’s bullet. And when Denise returns, demanding to reclaim what was “hers,” Dahlia must risk everything—not only for Luca’s love, but for her very life. CHAPTER 1 Dahlia’s POV “Denise is gone!” The scream ripped through my sleep like a sharp blade. My eyes flew open and my heart started pounding so hard it hurt. For a moment, I didn’t understand anything. The room was still dark, the weak morning light barely slipping through the curtains. Everything was quiet except for the sound of my breathing. Then I heard it again. Mum’s voice. I threw the blanket off me and jumped out of bed. The floor was cold under my bare feet, and I shivered as I hurried to the door. My hands were shaking so bad I could hardly grab the handle. The sound had come from across the hallway—Denise’s room. My twin sister’s room. I rushed out, nearly tripping on the edge of the rug. My nightdress brushed against my legs as I ran, my hair messy and my eyes still blurry with sleep. But fear kept me moving. Something deep inside me already knew—something was very, very wrong. When I pushed open Denise’s door, I stopped dead. Mum was sitting on Denise’s bed, clutching a piece of paper in her hand. Her hair had fallen loose from its bun, and her face was wet with tears. She was shaking all over, whispering something under her breath that didn’t make sense. She looked… broken, like a piece of her had just been ripped away. Father was pacing across the room like he couldn’t stand still. His face was red and furious, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Each step he took made the floor creak. He looked ready to explode. “Mum? Dad? What’s going on?” My voice came out small and shaky. I already felt like I didn’t want to hear the answer. Mum looked up at me, her eyes wide and full of panic. Her lips trembled before she managed to speak. “It’s your sister, Dahlia,” she said in a broken voice. “Denise… she’s gone. She ran away.” I blinked, not really understanding. The words didn’t make sense. “Gone?” I whispered. “What do you mean gone? She wouldn’t just leave.” Mum’s hand trembled as she held out the crumpled piece of paper. “She left this,” she said, her voice cracking. “She said she couldn’t go through with the wedding. She said she couldn’t marry him.” Her voice broke completely as she pressed the letter against her chest. “Oh, God… what has she done?” The air in the room suddenly felt heavy, like it was pressing down on me. The wedding. Mr. Romano. My stomach twisted so hard it felt like I might throw up. Denise had run away. On her wedding day. Father stopped pacing. Then, without warning, he slammed his fist into the wall with a loud bang that made me jump. “That stupid girl!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the whole house. “Does she even know what she’s done? Does she know what this means for us?” His face was full of fury and fear all at once. Mum started sobbing again, her whole body shaking as she buried her face in her hands. “He’ll kill us,” she whispered between cries. “Romano will kill us all. He said if Denise doesn’t marry him today, we won’t live to see tomorrow.” Her words hit me like a slap. I couldn’t breathe. My chest tightened until it hurt, and the room spun for a second. I reached for the wall just to steady myself. Denise… my sister, my twin. We shared everything—our faces, our secrets, our dreams. And now she was gone. Gone, leaving me behind to face a man everyone feared. Leaving me to face Luca Romano. Father spun toward me so fast I froze. His eyes were sharp, wild almost. “Find her, Dahlia,” he barked. His voice was cold, like he’d already made up his mind. “You know what Romano’s like. He won’t care whose head he takes off first. If we don’t bring her back before sundown, we’re finished.” The words hit me like a punch to the chest. My arms wrapped around myself without thinking, and my throat burned with words I couldn’t say. I wanted to scream. I wanted to ask why Denise had done this, why we had to be the ones paying for it. But nothing came out. The room was heavy with silence. Only Mum’s sobs and Father’s footsteps filled it, and my own heartbeat was loud enough to hurt. Everything felt smaller—the walls, the air, even me. Denise was gone. And time was slipping away. Then Mum looked up suddenly. Her eyes were swollen and red, her face streaked with tears. There was something desperate in her stare, something that made my stomach twist. Her lips trembled, and when she spoke, her voice came out thin and shaking. “You’ll take her place, Dahlia,” she said. “You’ll marry Luca Romano.” For a moment, I couldn’t even process the words. My mind just went blank. Then they sank in all at once, cold and sharp. “What?” I whispered. My knees went weak. Mum stood from the bed, clutching Denise’s letter like it was the only thing holding her together. “It’s the only way,” she said, almost breaking apart. “Romano can’t know she’s gone. If he does, he’ll kill us all. But you—you can take her place. You’re twins.” I shook my head, stepping back until I hit the wall. “No. He’ll know. He’ll see it’s not her.” Father stopped pacing. He turned slowly, his face tight and hard. “He won’t,” he said, voice like steel. “You’re identical. Put on her dress, do your hair, and smile. He won’t look twice.” My stomach twisted painfully. Yes, we looked alike. Same hair, same eyes, same face. But we weren’t the same. Denise was the one people noticed—the one everyone loved. She was fearless and full of life. I was the quiet one. The extra. The one in the background. Tears filled my eyes. “He’ll know,” I said softly. “He’ll know I’m not her.” Mum reached for me, her hands shaking. Her touch was cold and desperate. “Please, Dahlia,” she begged. “If you don’t do this, we’re dead. Don’t you understand? He’ll kill us all. You’re our only chance.” Her words hit me over and over. My chest hurt, my legs felt weak. I wanted to cry, to shout that it wasn’t fair, that I couldn’t be her. But when I looked at them—at the fear in Mum’s eyes and the anger burning in Father’s—I knew there was no choice. So I said nothing. I just stood there, silent. Because they didn’t know. They didn’t know I’d seen Denise leave. CHAPTER 2 Dahlia’s POV It was the middle of the night when I felt someone shake my shoulder. I opened my eyes and saw Denise kneeling beside me. Her hair was loose, her face pale but determined. “Dahlia,” she whispered quickly, looking toward my door. “Wake up. I’m leaving.” I blinked, confused. “What do you mean, leaving?” She pointed to the small bag beside her. “I can’t do it. I won’t marry him,” she said, her voice sharp and trembling. “I’d rather die than belong to Luca Romano.” My chest tightened. “Denise, you can’t,” I whispered, terrified. “They’ll kill us if you don’t go through with it.” Her eyes softened for a moment, but she held my hand tight. “You’ll save them,” she said quietly. “You’ll take my place. Remember your promise.” And just like always, I couldn’t say no to her. I nodded weakly. “I promise.” She gave me a small, sad smile, then stood up and slipped out of my room. I watched her go, too scared to move, too numb to stop her. The sound of the door closing felt final. Now, standing in her empty room, the memory haunted me. Mum was crying, clutching Denise’s letter, and Father was staring at me with cold, expectant eyes. “I’ll do it,” I whispered finally. Mum gasped softly, and Father nodded once, like it was already decided. And just like that, my fate was sealed. The hardest part was still ahead. The part where I would have to become her. Put on her dress. Her smile. Her voice. And walk straight into the arms of the most feared man in Chicago— Luca Romano— My hands trembled as Mum lifted the gown from its box—the same gown Mr. Romano had sent days ago. Denise’s wedding dress. My sister’s. Not mine. The silky white fabric shimmered under the light, too perfect, too pure, like it didn’t belong in this house or on me. To everyone else, it was beautiful. To me, it looked like a cage. Mum held it out carefully, her hands shaking as she said softly, “Come on, Dahlia. We don’t have time.” I swallowed hard and reached for it. My fingers brushed against the lace, and something inside me twisted. The dress was light, but it felt heavy in my arms. Denise would’ve looked stunning in it—she always did. Everything fit her effortlessly. But as I slipped it on, the fabric clung to my body too tightly. Denise had always been slimmer, neater. I wasn’t big, but compared to her, I felt… wrong. The dress hugged every curve, making it hard to breathe. Mum circled me quickly, zipping the back and smoothing out the folds. Her hands moved fast, trembling, desperate. When she finally stepped back, her eyes glistened. “You look just like her,” she whispered. But I didn’t feel like her. I felt like I was drowning. She sat me down in front of the mirror and began to work on my face. Powder, liner, lipstick—the same shades Denise always used. Her movements were gentle, careful, like she was painting a mask that had to be perfect. I watched my reflection change little by little. My heartbeat was loud in my ears, my breaths uneven. With every stroke, my face disappeared and hers appeared in its place. Denise’s lips. Denise’s eyes. Denise’s perfect, confident smile. When Mum finished, she touched my shoulder lightly, her voice soft but firm. “You’re doing this to keep us safe, Dahlia. That’s all that matters.” I nodded, even though I didn’t feel convinced. Those words didn’t ease the fear in my chest—they only made it heavier. Father had never told me why Denise had to marry Luca Romano. He’d only said it was “for our safety.” Whatever that meant. I looked at the mirror again. The girl staring back wasn’t me anymore. She was my sister—beautiful, fearless Denise. But inside, it was still me. Terrified, trembling Dahlia. The stranger in the mirror was about to walk into my sister’s life… and marry the man she ran away from. My stomach turned, and I looked away. My hands were cold and slick with sweat, trembling no matter how hard I tried to keep them still. The drive to the church felt like a blur. My body was in the car, but my mind was somewhere else—floating, drowning in fear. The dress was too tight around my ribs, and the lace kept scratching my skin, making it harder to breathe. I kept my hands on my lap, gripping the fabric, and every small bump on the road made my heart jump. When we finally reached the church, my chest started to tighten. Slowly at first, then all at once, like my lungs just gave up. My fingers dug into the edge of my dress when the car stopped. My palms were sweaty, and I wiped them on the fabric without thinking. My heart was beating so loud it felt like it filled the car. For a second, I thought about running. Just opening the door and running down the road until this whole day disappeared. But my legs wouldn’t move. They felt heavy, like someone had tied them down. Mum was the first to move—she always was. She opened the door quickly and stepped out, her heels clicking on the pavement. Then Father got out. He fixed his jacket, smoothed his hair, and came to open my door. “Come on,” he said, his voice soft but steady. I took his hand. It was warm, strong, but there was something strange in the way he held it. Like he wanted to comfort me, but didn’t know how. We walked up to the entrance together. The stone steps were old and smooth, and my heels made small clicking sounds that echoed. The big wooden doors were open, and inside was dim, with candles flickering along the walls. Then I saw him. A tall man stood near a pillar, dressed all in black. His suit was perfect, his face unreadable. His eyes moved over us, slow and sharp. When he spoke, his voice was low and calm, but something about it made my stomach twist. “The boss wants to see you,” he said. The way he said boss made the hairs on my neck rise. We followed him without a word. He didn’t look back, just walked—steady, confident. Our footsteps echoed across the floor. The church seemed even larger the further we went, and the silence felt thick, like it was listening. I tried not to look at the statues on the walls, but I could still feel their cold stone eyes watching us. Finally, the man stopped in front of a small wooden door at the very end of the corridor. My stomach twisted again, and I felt my palms grow sweaty. He didn’t even knock—just pushed the door open like he owned the place. The hinges creaked softly as it swung inward. The room inside was small and dim, almost too quiet. Thick, dark curtains were pulled over the windows, blocking out all sunlight. The air smelled faintly of smoke and something expensive—maybe cologne or wine. There was a table in the middle of the room, made of polished wood, and two chairs placed neatly on either side. A single candle sat on the table, its tiny flame flickering and shaking every time the door moved. And that’s when I saw him. CHAPTER 3 Dahlia’s POV A tall man stood near the table, his back partly turned toward us. I didn’t need to see his face to know who he was. The air around him felt… heavy, powerful, like he was someone people didn’t dare to cross. Luca Romano. My throat went dry the moment I recognized him. He turned slowly, and for a few seconds, I forgot how to breathe. He was—well, there wasn’t any other way to say it—dangerously attractive. The kind of man you’d think twice about staring at, because just one look could make you feel like you’d done something wrong. His tuxedo was perfect, not a wrinkle in sight. The black fabric seemed to catch the candlelight in a way that made him look even more intimidating. His jawline was sharp—so sharp it honestly looked like it could cut glass. His midnight-black hair was slicked back neatly, not a strand out of place. And those eyes—stormy grey, cold and unreadable—locked on us the moment he turned. Or maybe just on me. I couldn’t tell. My father immediately tensed beside me. I could hear his breathing change. Then he spoke, his voice trembling slightly, “Mr. Romano, forgive us for being late.” Luca didn’t reply. He just stood there, silent, his eyes moving slowly from my father to my mother, then stopping on me. My heart thumped hard against my ribs, so loud I was sure everyone could hear it. When I glanced at Mum, her face was pale. She looked horrified, like she wanted to be anywhere but here. Her hands clutched her shawl tightly, knuckles white. Father nudged me lightly, his fingers shaking. “Say hello to Mr. Romano,” he whispered, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. My lips felt dry. I lowered my gaze to my shoes and tried to sound calm, though my voice came out soft and unsure. “H-hello, sir.” I tried to mimic my sister’s tone—polite, confident—but it didn’t sound right. I sounded scared. I heard slow, deliberate footsteps moving toward me. Each one made my chest tighten a little more. I didn’t dare look up until I saw his polished black shoes stop right in front of mine. My whole body stiffened when I felt his fingers under my chin. They were cold, strong, forcing me to lift my head. My breath caught when my eyes met his. Luca Romano was staring straight at me. His gaze was deep and unblinking, searching my face like he was trying to figure out what I was hiding. I tried my best not to look away, but it felt impossible. The room suddenly felt too small, the air too heavy. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Father shift nervously. His hand twitched at his side, and I heard him clear his throat softly, like he didn’t even mean to. He didn’t say a word though. He just stood there, stiff and silent, like even breathing too loudly might make things worse. Mum’s breathing was uneven too. Her lips were moving quietly, whispering a prayer I couldn’t hear. She kept her eyes on the floor, and I noticed how pale she looked. For a moment, I thought she might faint, but she didn’t. She just stood there, holding herself together somehow. The whole room felt heavy. Cold. No one moved or spoke. Luca’s fingers slipped away from my chin, and his eyes stayed on me for a moment—calm, but impossible to read. The silence dragged on and on, until it felt like time itself had stopped. Then he spoke. “This should never happen again.” His voice was low and smooth, the kind that sent chills through you without even trying. He didn’t raise it, but every word felt sharp. Like a warning that didn’t need to be repeated. He took a step back, slow and controlled, his gaze sweeping over all of us one last time. Then he turned and walked out. The sound of his shoes echoed on the floor, fading away until there was nothing left but silence. For a few seconds, no one moved. It was like we were all afraid he’d come back. Then Father let out a long breath, his shoulders dropping as if someone had cut a rope off him. Mum finally looked up, her eyes shiny, her lips still trembling. “He didn’t suspect a thing,” Father said. His voice was low, shaky, but there was relief in it. He even tried to smile, though it barely lasted a second. I didn’t say anything. My heart was still racing, my hands cold and sweaty. I could still feel Luca’s touch on my chin, still hear his voice in my head. Maybe Father was right—maybe Luca hadn’t suspected anything. The church ceremony went by like a blur. I barely remembered the vows or the music or even the part where Luca slid the ring onto my finger. Everything felt distant, like I was watching someone else’s life happen right in front of me. My palms were sweating the whole time. I was scared he would notice something, that he’d see through the lie and put a bullet in our heads right there in front of everyone. When it was finally over, I felt dizzy with relief. But it didn’t last long. The reception started almost immediately, and people were everywhere—smiling, laughing, taking pictures, clinking glasses. Guests flowed left and right, congratulating us like this was some fairytale love story. Luca stood beside me, calm and unreadable as always. He shook hands, nodded, smiled just enough to be polite. I copied him, forcing myself to smile too, my cheeks already aching. Every second felt like a test. Every time someone said my name—Denise—my heart skipped a beat. After a while, Luca excused himself and walked away to talk to a group of men in dark suits. The air around me finally loosened, and I could breathe again. I reached for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, my hand trembling just a little. I took a sip, the bubbles sharp on my tongue, and let out a shaky breath. “Denise!” a voice called behind me. I turned quickly and saw a young woman heading straight toward me, her face lighting up like she’d just found her long-lost sister. Before I could even react, she threw her arms around me in a tight hug. I froze, my mind racing. I didn’t know her—but she clearly knew Denise. “Congratulations!” she gushed, pulling back to look at me. “I still can’t believe you’re actually married! And to him of all people! You hit the jackpot, girl.” I forced a small laugh, hoping it sounded natural. “Thank you for coming,” I said, my voice soft but steady. She smiled, totally unaware of the panic twisting inside me. “So tell me,” she said, leaning closer like we were sharing a secret, “now that you’re Mrs. Romano, are you still going to come clubbing with us? Or are you officially too fancy for that?” I didn’t even have to think about it. I already knew what Denise would say. “Of course I’ll still come,” I said, forcing a brighter smile. “Why would I stop?” She laughed, tossing her hair back, but then something changed. Her smile froze, then slowly faded. Her eyes shifted past me, and she straightened up fast, like she’d just been caught doing something wrong. Before I could ask what was wrong, she mumbled something about seeing me later and hurried away. That’s when I felt it—the heavy presence behind me. I turned slowly and found Luca standing there. He was close. Too close. His expression was unreadable, calm but sharp, like a blade hidden in silk. “Oh really,” he said, his tone soft but mocking. My throat went dry. Then he leaned in just slightly, his eyes fixed on mine. “Tell me,” he said quietly, “where is your sister?” For a second, my whole body froze. My heart stuttered in my chest, my palms went cold, and every sound around me faded. Had he found out? Did he know I wasn’t Denise? My mouth opened, but no words came out. I couldn’t even breathe. And then—clink. The sharp sound of a glass tapping broke through the silence. A man’s voice rose above the chatter, cheerful and booming. “To Luca Romano and his beautiful new wife! May their marriage be long and filled with happiness!” Everyone turned toward him, waiting for the toast to end. I managed a shaky smile, ready to lift my glass, pretending everything was normal. But before anyone could cheer, the first gunshot rang out. Bang. CHAPTER 4 Dahlia’s POV The sound ripped through the hall—loud, sharp, and terrifying. For a moment, no one moved. Then another shot followed, and another. Glass shattered, people screamed, and the whole room broke into chaos. Guests scattered in every direction, tables flipped, chairs crashed to the ground. My heart stopped. My legs felt weak. I didn’t even know where to run. Then I felt a strong hand grab my arm. I gasped as I was yanked down to the floor, my glass slipping from my fingers and shattering beside me. “Lay low,” Luca growled, his voice deep and rough in my ear. His body pressed close, shielding me. The scent of gunpowder and cologne filled my nose, and my pulse pounded so hard it hurt. I ducked my head, trembling as more shots echoed through the air. Screams bounced off the walls, and all I could see were flashes of movement—men in suits running, people crying, and Luca’s cold eyes scanning the room like he was ready to kill whoever came near us. Somewhere deep inside me, one thought kept repeating over and over. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to be my life. From his waistband, Luca drew a sleek black gun. My breath caught. I couldn’t look away as he stood up, tall and steady, his body still between me and the chaos. The sound of his gun filled the air—sharp, deafening cracks that made my ears ring and my stomach twist. All around us, his men moved fast, like they’d done this a hundred times before. They pulled out their weapons, shouting to each other as they returned fire. Tables flipped over, wood splintering as bullets tore through them. I pressed my face to the floor, shaking so badly my teeth chattered. My heart slammed against my ribs, too fast, too loud. Then I looked up—and saw him. Luca. My husband. The man I had just married. He stood there like the world around him wasn’t falling apart. Calm. Cold. Completely in control. His hand didn’t even tremble as he fired another shot. And when one of the attackers fell, Luca didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. He just turned slightly, scanning for the next one. It was like watching death itself move through the room. His dark eyes moved around the room, checking everything like he was counting the danger one by one. He didn’t look scared at all. Not even a little. He just started giving orders, calm and serious, and his men listened to him immediately. They moved quickly, cleaning up the mess and securing the place like they had done this a hundred times before. I stood there shaking. My hands were on my face and I could barely breathe. My heart was racing so fast it hurt. Everything felt unreal—the noise, the smell, the fear. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Then he reached for me. His hand wrapped around mine—warm and strong. I felt it right through me, like a small shock that made my breath catch. His grip wasn’t rough. It was firm, steady, like he was saying without words that I was safe now. I didn’t know why, but that made me want to cry. He pulled me to my feet, slow but sure. I stumbled because the floor was slippery with broken candles and petals, but he didn’t let go. He held my arm and kept me close, guiding me through the mess like it was nothing. My wedding dress was heavy and tangled, brushing against my legs, and I could feel sweat sticking it to my skin. The black Range Rover was parked just ahead, shining under the broken lights like something out of a different world. Luca walked beside me, his steps long and confident. His men were all around us, their faces serious, holding guns and watching every corner. The air smelled like gunpowder and smoke, mixed with the faint scent of flowers that somehow survived all of it. I didn’t say a word. I just followed him, trying not to think, trying not to fall apart. After what felt like forever, even though it was probably just a few minutes, we got to his mansion. It was huge. The walls were dark, the gates tall and heavy, and the windows shone like mirrors in the sunlight. The driveway was long, with neat green bushes on both sides. I felt a shiver run through me as I looked at the house. This was where I was supposed to stay now. With him. Alone. My stomach twisted just thinking about it. I had only just met this man. I had only said “yes” because I had to. And now I was supposed to live in his house, like his wife. What if he didn’t believe I was Denise? What if he found out the truth and decided to kill me? When he opened the car door for me, I didn’t move right away. My legs felt weak. I looked around, scared, not sure what to do. Then Luca looked at me. His dark eyes were calm but serious, and when he said, “Come,” his voice was soft but firm. I couldn’t say no. I stepped out of the car. The gravel made a crunching sound under my shoes. The air was cool and made me shiver again. Each step toward the house felt heavier than the last. I felt so small next to him, so scared and unsure. Inside, the house was even bigger. The air felt cold and quiet. The floors were shiny, and the furniture looked really expensive. Everything looked perfect—too perfect. Like a place where I didn’t belong. An older woman came out from one of the halls. Her hair was gray and tied up neatly. She wore a black dress that looked like a uniform. Her face was calm, but her eyes looked sharp, like she noticed everything. “Mr. Romano,” she said in a soft voice, bowing her head. Luca didn’t smile. He didn’t even nod. He just said, “Take her upstairs.” The woman looked at me, waiting. I slowly started walking toward her, my heart beating fast. Then, his hand closed over mine. Strong. Commanding. Warm. But when I looked at him, my chest froze. He didn’t smile. He didn’t soften his gaze. He just leaned a fraction closer and said words that made my stomach twist painfully: “Go upstairs and wait for me… naked.” CHAPTER 5 Dahlia’s POV Time seemed to stop. My mouth went dry. My legs felt like they had turned to jelly. I couldn’t think. I wanted to pull my hand away, to step back, to scream, but the fear in his eyes and the power in his voice made me freeze in place. My heart raced so fast it felt like it would explode. What… what did he just say? I thought, my mind spinning. Is he serious? Is this real? The housekeeper glanced at him and then back at me. She didn’t say anything, didn’t blink. It was as if she expected me to obey without question. I could feel the weight of Luca’s gaze on me, dark and intense, like he was watching not just my body, but my thoughts too. Every instinct in me screamed to run, but the thought of leaving the house, of disobeying him, was terrifying. I swallowed hard, my throat dry, trying to steady my shaking legs. My mind raced with a million thoughts: I just met this man. I barely know him. And now… now he’s asking me to… My stomach churned, and cold sweat broke out across my skin. I forced my legs to move, one shaky step at a time, following the housekeeper who walked quietly in front of me. She didn’t look back to check on me, but somehow I could feel she knew how scared I was. The silence wrapped around us, making the sound of our footsteps louder, almost too loud. My heels clicked softly against the marble floor, and every sound seemed to bounce off the tall walls of the mansion. Finally, she stopped at one of the doors near the end of the hallway. It was tall and made of dark wood, with a gold handle that caught the light. She turned to me, her expression calm, though there was something in her eyes—something I couldn’t quite name. “My name is Mrs. Cruz,” she said softly, her voice calm and almost motherly, though I could tell she was choosing her words carefully. “This is Mr. Romano’s room… and yours as well.” “Thank you,” I whispered, though the words sounded thin and broken, like they weren’t really mine. I reached for the golden handle with trembling fingers, trying to steady my breathing, but before I could push the door open, Mrs. Cruz leaned closer. Her face softened, and for the first time I saw real emotion in her eyes. “Obey Mr. Romano,” she whispered, her tone quiet, almost secretive, like she didn’t want anyone else to hear. But there was sympathy in her voice, heavy and clear, like she was warning me and pitying me at the same time. Without another word, she stepped back and gave me a small nod before walking away, her footsteps fading down the long hall. With a small push, I forced the door open, the hinges groaning softly like they were warning me not to enter. The room stretched out before me like something out of a nightmare and a dream at the same time. It was massive, too big for one person. The walls were painted in dark, brooding colors—shadows clung to the corners as if even the light from the chandelier above dared not chase them away. A faint smell of expensive cologne lingered in the air, mixed with leather and something metallic I couldn’t name, but it made my stomach twist. My eyes landed on the bed, and I froze. It was huge, draped in sheets so dark they almost blended with the shadows. The headboard was tall, carved wood that looked older than me, and the pillows were arranged perfectly, not a crease out of place. The bed was the kind of thing that demanded attention, like it knew what it was meant for. My cheeks burned at the thought, and my heart thumped louder. Go upstairs and wait for me. Naked. His words kept playing in my head again and again until I felt lightheaded. I stood there in the middle of the room, shaking a little, my hands cold and clammy. My fingers reached for the zipper at the back of my wedding dress. I touched it, felt the cool metal under my skin, but I couldn’t pull it down. I just couldn’t. My chest felt tight, and it was suddenly hard to breathe. I turned away from the mirror and walked to the big window instead. The view outside was beautiful—tall trees, a wide driveway, the sun slowly setting—but all I could think was what if I ran? What if I just opened that window and jumped out? Could I make it? Would anyone stop me? My thoughts were all over the place when the sound of the door opening made me freeze. My heart jumped to my throat. “Denise,” his voice said from behind me. Deep. Calm. Dangerous. For a moment, I didn’t even answer. I had forgotten that was supposed to be my name now. When I finally turned around, he was standing by the door, still in his black suit, still as stone. His eyes—dark, unreadable—found me instantly. The air in the room shifted, heavy and cold. “Why are you still wearing your clothes?” His voice was low, quiet—but it carried through the room like a threat. “Did you not hear what I told you to do?” CHAPTER 6 Dahlia’s POV I froze. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. My tongue felt dry, useless. He moved before I could think. One sharp step, then another, and suddenly he was in front of me. His hand shot out, wrapping around my throat. The grip was firm—tight enough to make my breath catch, to remind me how easily he could crush me if he wanted to. His face was close now, so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. It wasn’t fast or angry. It was calm. Too calm. That made it worse. “You’ve been acting strange all day,” he said quietly, his eyes burning into mine. “Why?” My heart was pounding so loud I could barely hear my own voice. “I—I’m just nervous,” I stammered. “That’s all.” His fingers pressed slightly harder. “Nervous?” His mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You should be.” I swallowed hard, trying not to shake. Then his eyes narrowed, and his next words sent ice straight through my veins. “Where’s your sister?” he asked slowly. “Why didn’t Dahlia come to the wedding?” For a second, my blood ran cold. But then—relief. If he was asking about Dahlia, he still thought I was Denise. “She—she went off to college,” I said quickly, forcing the lie out before I could trip over it. “She couldn’t make it.” He said nothing. Just stared at me. The silence stretched so long I could hear the soft ticking of the clock, the faint sound of the wind outside. My pulse thudded painfully in my neck where his fingers had been. Finally, after what felt like forever, he released me. Slowly. Deliberately. His hand slid away, and I felt the ghost of his touch burning on my skin. Without saying a word, he turned and walked to the chair near the corner. The way he moved—calm, controlled, like a predator that had already decided I wasn’t worth killing yet—made my stomach twist. He sat down, poured himself a glass of whisky, and took a slow sip. The sound of the liquid hitting the glass was almost too loud in the quiet room. Then he looked up at me again—those same cold, sharp eyes—and said, “Next time I give you an order, you’ll obey it immediately. Do you understand?” I nodded quickly, too scared to speak. He leaned back in his chair, still watching me. “Good,” he said softly. “Now, take off your clothes… Get on that bed. And spread your legs and don’t make me ask twice.” The words weren’t shouted. They didn’t need to be. The quiet threat behind them was enough to make my knees feel weak. For the first time in my life, I really understood what it meant to be trapped. There was no door to run to, no window to climb out from. Just me… and him. My hands were shaking so badly I could hardly breathe. I reached behind me for the zipper of my dress, my fingers slipping against the metal. It took me a few tries before I finally caught it. I pulled it down slowly, every sound it made cutting through the quiet room like a scream. The dress loosened and slid off my shoulders, falling to the floor in a soft heap. Cold air hit my skin and I shivered, standing there in only my bra and panties. I could feel his eyes on me. Heavy. Unblinking. Watching every tiny movement I made. My skin prickled under that stare, like invisible hands were touching me. I wanted to cover myself, to hide, but I couldn’t move. My hands went to the clasp of my bra, and for a moment I froze. I bit down hard on my lip, tasting blood. I didn’t want to do it, but I knew I had no choice. He was watching, waiting for me to obey. With a shaky breath, I unhooked it. The straps slid down my arms and the bra fell to the floor. I quickly crossed my arms over my chest, my cheeks burning with shame. I couldn’t take off my panties. I just couldn’t. It was the only thing left keeping me from feeling completely exposed. The only piece of myself I still had. He had told me to get on the bed, but my legs wouldn’t move. They felt stiff, like they didn’t belong to me anymore. My knees trembled so badly I thought I might fall. My heart was pounding too fast, too loud. I was terrified of what he might do if I actually obeyed. Before I could think of what to say, the chair scraped against the floor. The sound made me jump. He stood up slowly, towering over me. His footsteps were steady, heavy, almost lazy—but they made my chest tighten more with every step he took. He didn’t look away. Not even for a second. By the time he stopped right in front of me, I couldn’t even breathe properly. My chest rose and fell fast, and it felt like the air had gotten too thick to swallow. His face was so close now that I could see every line, every hard edge of anger in his eyes. They were dark and cold, the kind of eyes that made you feel like you were nothing. Like he could break you if he wanted to—and he wouldn’t even think twice about it. Before I could even blink, his hand shot out and grabbed my arm. CHAPTER 7 Dahlia’s POV I gasped from the pain and shock. His grip was tight, rough, like he wasn’t even trying to be gentle. I tried to pull away, but he didn’t budge. It was like trying to fight a wall. My voice caught in my throat; I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Then he shoved me—hard. My body stumbled backward until I hit the bed behind me. The mattress dipped under me as I landed, my breath leaving my chest in a quick gasp. My heart was pounding so fast it hurt. I could hear it thudding in my ears, loud and desperate, like it was begging me to run even though my body wouldn’t move. I looked up at him, terrified, and for a second, I thought maybe he would stop. Maybe he would just walk away. But then he moved closer, climbing onto the bed. I shut my eyes quickly, tears spilling down my cheeks. My whole body shook. Was this really happening? Was he really going to take advantage of me? The thought made my stomach twist. I could barely breathe as fear settled over me like a heavy blanket I couldn’t escape. I wanted to disappear—to wake up and realize this was all some terrible dream—but I knew it wasn’t. This was real. Too real. He held my hands above my head, pinning me down with his weight. "Denise," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Why are you feeling shy all of a sudden? Last time we met, you practically begged me to fuck you. So what's changed?" "Please," I whimpered, trying to shrink back from him. "Please let me go. I'm begging you." "Why should I?" he sneered, his eyes glinting with a cruel, hungry light. "Why shouldn't I fuck my own wife?" I shook my head frantically, tears now streaming down my face. "Please," I begged again, my voice barely above a whisper. "Please don't do this. I'm begging you." He just laughed, a harsh, cruel sound that sent chills down my spine. "Begging won't help you now," he sneered, his eyes glinting with a malicious light. "You are my wife and you now belong to me." I knew I had to think of something, anything, to make him stop. My mind raced frantically, searching for an excuse, a lie, anything that might save me from what was about to happen. And then, suddenly, it came to me. "I...I'm on my period," I stammered, hoping against hope that he would believe me. "I'm sorry, I should have told you earlier. But please, you can't...you can't do this to me right now." For a moment, he just stared at me. His face didn’t show anything—no anger, no softness, nothing at all. I couldn’t even read what he was thinking, and that scared me more. My chest rose and fell too fast, and I held my breath without realizing it. I was praying deep inside, hoping he would believe my lie, even though a part of me knew it was stupid to think he would. He was a mafia don, not some regular man you could fool easily. People like him didn’t just stop because you begged. The silence stretched between us, heavy and cold. My heart was beating so loudly it felt like he could hear it. I kept my eyes on his, waiting for him to get angry, waiting for him to do something worse. To my surprise, he leaned away But then, he leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. "Don't think this is over," he whispered, his voice low and menacing. "You may have gotten lucky this time, but mark my words, Denise - I will fuck you soon. Hard. Whenever and however I like. And you will enjoy it because you belong to me. Every part of you. Your mouth. Your pussy. Your ass." With that, he stood up from the bed, his movements sharp and angry. I watched him, frozen, my heart still beating too fast. He didn’t even look at me as he walked toward the door. His footsteps were heavy, echoing in the quiet room. Then he grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut so hard the walls seemed to shake. I lay there for a few seconds, too scared to move. My body was trembling all over, and I could hear my own breathing—shaky and uneven. The room felt colder now, emptier, but his presence still lingered like smoke. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to calm my heartbeat, but it didn’t help much. His words kept replaying in my head, every tone, every look he gave me. It made me shiver again. But there was also this strange feeling in my chest—confusion. Why did he stop? Why did he let me go just because I said I was on my period? If he was really as cruel and heartless as everyone said he was, then he wouldn’t have cared. He could’ve done whatever he wanted. So why didn’t he? I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as they said. Or maybe… maybe he was just waiting for the right time.