The devil's last bride

Chapter 1: The golden cage

The rain over Milan didn't wash the streets clean; it just made the oil and dirt on the pavement slick.

Elena Rossi sat at the heavy desk in her father's home office, staring at three different bank

statements. The numbers made her head throb. None of them lined up. Millions of euros had vanished from her father's accounts over the last six months, moved through shadow companies she couldn't trace.

Three days. It had been three full days since Arthur Rossi walked out the front door for a

business dinner and never came back. His phone went straight to voicemail. His car was still parked in the garage. "You haven't touched your tea, sweetheart." Elena looked up. Mrs. Susan stood in the doorway holding a small wooden tray. Her hair was

pulled back into her usual neat grey bun, but the deep lines around her eyes gave away how terrified she actually was. Susan had lived with them since Elena was six years old. She was the one who packed her lunches, sat up with her when she had fevers, and held her hand when her mother passed away. She was more of a mother to Elena than anyone else in the world.

"I'm not hungry, Susan," Elena said softly, rubbing her temples. Susan set the tea on the edge of the mahogany desk and wrapped her warm, worn hands

over Elena's shoulders. "You're going to make yourself sick. Your father is a smart man, Elena. He's gotten out of tough spots before. He'll come home."

"Smart men don't leave their phones off for seventy-two hours," Elena replied, her voice dropping. She reached up instinctively, her thumb sliding over the small, tear-shaped pendant around her neck. It was a heavy silver necklace her father had given her on her eighteenth birthday, right after her mother died. Never take it off, he had told her back then. It's the only thing left of our family's history. She had worn it every single day since.

"He's running from something," Elena whispered. "Or someone." Before Susan could answer, a dull, heavy thud echoed from the front gates downstairs. Susan froze, her hands tightening on Elena's shoulders. "Did you hear that?"

"Stay here," Elena said quietly. "Elena, no-"

The Devil's Last BrideElena didn't wait. She slid open her father's top drawer and grabbed a heavy brass

paperweight. It wasn't a weapon, but it was better than empty hands.

She stepped into the hallway, Susan hovering right behind her shoulder. The heavy front

doors of the mansion creaked open. Three men walked into the foyer like they owned the house.

They didn't wear masks, and they didn't hurry. They wore dark gray suits, built like brick walls,

moving with the quiet, terrifying confidence of men who never had to ask for permission.

Susan gasped behind her, backing up a step. "Dear God..."

"Who are you?" Elena called down from the top of the stairs, keeping her voice as steady as she

could. "Get out of my house before I call the police."

The man in the center stopped. He looked up, his expression completely blank. He didn't

look angry; he looked like a collector showing up to take a late car.

"The police don't come to this zip code when we're here, Miss Rossi," the man said. His voice

was raspy, heavy with a thick northern accent. "We're not here to hurt you. We're here to

collect."

Elena walked down two steps, keeping the paperweight hidden behind her skirt. "My father

isn't here. If he owes you money, leave an invoice with his legal team."

"Your father owes forty-two million euros," the man said simply. "And the men he owes don't

use lawyers."

Susan swallowed hard, her voice trembling from the shadow of the landing. "You... you work

for him? The one they call... the Devil of Milan?"

The man in the suit didn't deny it. A faint, cold smirk touched the corner of his mouth. "The

Don doesn't like waiting for his money. But he's feeling generous today."

He reached inside his breast jacket. Elena braced herself, her fingers locking around the

brass in her hand, fully expecting a gun.

Instead, the man pulled out a heavy cream envelope and a small black velvet box. He set

them both on the small marble table near the coat rack.

"What is that?" Elena asked.

"Your father's debt settlement," the man said. "Read it."

Elena stepped down the rest of the stairs, keeping her eyes fixed on the three men. Susan

tried to grab her elbow to pull her back, but Elena gently shook her off. She reached the table

and picked up the envelope. Inside was a thick piece of cardstock printed with gold lettering.

You are cordially invited to the marriage of

Damien Moretti

and

Elena Rossi

This Saturday at 8:00 PM.

The Devil's Last BrideElena stared at the paper. Her blood ran cold. "This is a joke."

"Look in the box," the man replied.

Elena's hand shook slightly as she popped open the velvet latch. Inside sat two things. The

first was a plain gold wedding band.

The second was a heavy silver signet ring. It was smeared with dark, dried blood.

Elena's breath caught in her throat. She recognized the signet ring immediately. It belonged

to her father. He had worn it on his left pinky finger for as long as she could remember.

"Where is he?" Elena demanded, her voice cracking. "What did Damien Moretti do to my

father?!"

Susan ran down the rest of the stairs, her eyes widening in horror as she saw the blood on

the ring. "Oh, sweet Jesus... Elena, no..."

"Your father is alive," the dark-suited man said, taking a step back toward the open front door.

"For now. The Devil offers a very simple contract, Miss Rossi. You wear his ring, you walk down

the aisle in three days, and your father's debt is forgiven. He gets to keep his life."

"And if I say no?" Elena spat, step-by-step closing the distance, her knuckles white. "If I go to

the media? If I tell the authorities?"

The man paused at the doorway, looking back over his shoulder with eyes as dead as winter

grass.

"Then the next box we leave on your porch won't have his ring in it," he said softly. "It will have

his hand."

He didn't wait for a response. The three men walked out into the pouring rain, pulling the

heavy double doors shut behind them. The sharp click of the lock sounded like a gunshot in the

silent house.

Elena stood frozen in the foyer, the blood-stained ring resting heavy in her palm.

Susan collapsed onto the bottom step of the staircase, burying her face in her hands,

weeping quietly. "Elena... you can't. You can't marry that monster. Everyone knows what he is.

Women don't survive in that house."

Elena stared down at the invitation in her hand. Her mind was racing, throwing aside the

terror and replacing it with the cold, analytical focus she used when prepping for legal exams.

She closed her fingers tightly around her father's bloody ring, feeling the sharp edge cut into

her skin. Then her thumb unconsciously drifted back up to touch the silver pendant around her

neck.

"I don't have a choice, Susan," Elena said quietly, her voice turning completely level.

"Elena, please-"

"If I don't go, he dies," Elena said, turning around to face Susan. "I'm going to marry Damien

Moretti. But I'm not going into his house as a victim."

The Devil's Last BrideShe looked at her father's study upstairs.

"I'm going in to find out what my father was hiding. And if the Devil of Milan thinks he can break me, he's about to find out how hard I fight back."

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