THE DON'S BRIDE

Trying to escape

Her defiance sent a dark thrill through me,most women broke faster,Kiara was fighting every step, clinging to her pride like a shield.

I reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger against her neck. She didn’t flinch, but her pulse raced under my touch.

“Keep fighting me, little Bride” I murmured. “It only makes me want to lock you down tighter,designers will arrive tomorrow for your wardrobe and wedding dress,you will choose from what they bring,here, under my roof, under my watch,no public outings,we are not risking .”

She stepped back, breaking the contact.

“Then I’ll wear rags to the cathedral if that’s what it takes to remind you I’m not your obedient toy.”

A slow smile curved my lips despite the irritation. “You won’t,because deep down you know what’s at stake,your family’s survival,your own,and the longer you test me, the more creative my methods of control become.”

I turned toward the door, pausing before I left.

“Rest while you can, Kiara. The wedding is in thirteen days. After that, there will be no more discussions about freedom. You’ll be my wife in name, in body, and in every way I decide.”

I walked out, leaving her alone with her anger, I felt the obsession settle deeper.

She wasn’t mine yet,but she would be,and when she finally cracked,when that defiance turned to trembling, i would be the only one there to catch her.

**Kiara**

Thirteen days.

That was all I had left before the cathedral, the vows, and the final lock snapping shut on whatever remained of my freedom,I stood at the window long after Rossi left, staring out at the perfectly manicured gardens patrolled by armed men in dark suits,the estate was beautiful in a cold, oppressive way,high stone walls, floodlights, cameras on every corner,a fortress disguised as a palace,my new prison.

My skin still prickled where Rossi had touched my neck,with resentment,every casual claim he made, every wrapped in the language of protection, only made the cage feel smaller, he spoke as if my life was already his to rearrange,as if my request for something as simple as shopping was a childish tantrum instead of a desperate grasp for one last breath of normalcy.

I wasn’t falling for him,the man was a killer,I had seen the blood on his shirt, heard the screams drifting up from the basement.

A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts,one of the maids,young, nervous, eyes downcast,entered carrying a silver tray.

“Signorina Romano, Don Del Brenta asked that I bring you tea and some documents for the wedding,he said you should look them over.”

Documents,of course,more contracts,more ways to bind me,I nodded curtly and took the tray,as she turned to leave, something slipped from her apron pocket and fluttered to the floor,a small, folded piece of paper,she didn’t notice,or pretended not to.

The door clicked shut behind her.

I waited a full minute, heart hammering, before I bent and picked it up,the handwriting was hurried but familiar. Lorenzo’s.

*Kiara,*

*I can’t stop thinking about you in that house with him. Your father is pressuring everyone to stay quiet, but I’m not giving up. Meet me at the old service gate behind the east gardens tonight at 11pm if you can slip away. I have a plan to get you out before the wedding. You don’t have to do this. You deserve better than that monster.*

*- L*

My fingers trembled as I read it twice. Lorenzo,still fighting for me even after Rossi’s threats,the old service gate, I remembered seeing it during the drive in yesterday,heavily guarded, but perhaps not impossible if the shift changed.

For one wild moment, hope flared in my chest,escape,freedom, a life that wasn’t dictated by Rossi Del Brenta’s obsessions or his family’s cold calculations.

Then reality crashed back.

If I got caught, Rossi would make an example of Lorenzo,of me,his “protection” would turn even darker,and my father? He’d probably disown me to save the alliance,the Del Brenta family,Elena with her icy disdain, Luca with his cruel jokes,would see it as proof I was weak and disposable.

I crumpled the note in my fist, then carefully smoothed it out and hid it inside the lining of my skirt,I couldn’t risk anyone finding it.

The rest of the afternoon dragged in heavy silence,designers arrived exactly as Rossi had promised,three women with racks of fabrics, sketches, and sample gowns,they set up in one of the large sitting rooms downstairs under the watchful eyes of Rossi’s guards.

Elena was there, of course, seated like a judge. Luca leaned against the wall, smirking as I was measured and draped in white silks and laces.

“Try the one with the deep neckline,” Luca suggested lazily. “Might make my brother less likely to kill everyone at the reception.”

Elena shot him a sharp look. “Enough. The dress must project strength, not invitation, simple,elegant,nothing that screams ‘virgin sacrifice.’”

I stood on the small platform in front of the mirrors, letting them pin and tuck, feeling like a mannequin,every gown felt wrong,too heavy, too symbolic, too much like a shroud, when they asked for my opinion, I gave the bare minimum.

“Whatever is fine,” I said flatly. “It’s not like I chose any of this.”

One of the designers exchanged a nervous glance,Elena’s mouth tightened.

Rossi appeared halfway through, arms crossed, watching me with that intense, unreadable stare,he didn’t comment on the dresses,he simply nodded when Elena pointed out the most conservative option and said, “That one,she’ll wear it.”

*******

By evening, I was back in the master suite, exhausted and simmering with quiet rage. The note burned a hole in my skirt lining. 11pm. The service gate.

I paced the room, weighing every risk.

Rossi returned after dark, still in his black suit, faint traces of something darker on his knuckles that he didn’t bother to hide. He looked at me and frowned slightly.

“You’re quiet tonight. Still angry about the shopping?”

I met his eyes without flinching. “Angry doesn’t begin to cover it,but I’m learning your rules quickly,stay inside,wear what I’m told,speak when spoken to. Is that the performance you want from your future wife?”

He stepped closer, studying my face like he could read every rebellious thought. “I want you alive,the rest can be negotiated… after the wedding.”

Negotiated,as if my freedom was a bargaining chip he controlled.

I turned away, pretending to adjust the curtains. “Then I suppose I’ll wait for your generosity.”

He didn’t push further,Instead, he left me with two guards posted outside the door and went to handle more “business.”

*****

The clock ticked toward 11pm.

I changed into darker clothes I’d found in the closet,simple black pants and a long-sleeved top,my heart pounded as I cracked the window, listening for the guards’ patrol patterns,the east gardens were dimly lit,If I could slip out through the side terrace and stay in the shadows…

Part of me screamed that this was suicidal. Rossi’s obsession ran too deep,his family would hunt me,but another part,the part that still felt like Kiara Romano and not just “the Don’s virgin wife”refused to go quietly into this marriage without at least trying.

I waited until the hallway outside went quiet.

Then I moved,the note in my pocket felt like both hope and a death sentence,thirteen days until the wedding,tonight, I would see if escape was still possible… or if Rossi’s cage was already unbreakable.

*******