The Mafia's Forced Bride

Alea Moreau never expected that this afternoon would be the last time she could enjoy her freedom as an ordinary university student. The campus today felt unusually quiet, unlike the usual hustle and bustle filled with endless student activity. The soft echo of her low heels filled the corridor of the medical faculty. She had just finished her practical exam, and the only thing on her mind was: a full night’s sleep. Certainly not a forced marriage. And definitely not the mafia. “Miss Alea Moreau?” Alea’s steps halted instantly. A man in a long black suit stood in front of the faculty office door, holding a white envelope sealed with gold—strange, and somehow… threatening. “Yes, that’s me,” she replied cautiously. “Can I help you?” The man nodded. “I’ve been assigned to deliver this letter. Please open and read it immediately,” he said, offering her the envelope. Alea eyed the envelope with growing curiosity. Her eyes narrowed when she saw her name… beside another name. Damian Alaric. Her heart thudded uncomfortably as she took the mysterious letter. Damian Alaric? That name struck like lightning—she remembered the dark news reports about the young man, an international crime syndicate leader, never caught, but always leaving a trail of blood in his wake. A true bad boy—not just a label. Her hands trembled as she opened the letter. “By this decree, Alea Moreau and Damian Alaric are to be officially wed on May 24, 8:00 PM, at a classified location. This marriage is confidential and conducted under emergency circumstances for national and personal security. There is no option. – Government of the Republic of Indonesia.” Alea gaped at the contents. “Is this… some kind of sick joke?” she whispered. “No, Miss,” the man replied calmly. “This is the only way for you to continue living safely—and to preserve national security.” “For national security?” Alea stared at him, unbelieving. “Are you serious?” He nodded, expression unwavering. “We need your cooperation, Alea Moreau.” “By forcing me into marriage? Is this even legal—or just some government charade?” “No one is forcing you. You may refuse. But the consequences… won’t be pleasant.” His tone was cool, like ice. I wanted to laugh—but there was no humor in this place. “He’s… a criminal.” “He’s also a vital asset. And we need someone like you—to bridge two worlds that have never made peace.” I gave a bitter laugh. “So you want me to be a spy?” “We just want you to be his wife.” Before she could respond, Alea froze as a black car screeched to a stop in the faculty parking lot. Three men in dark suits exited swiftly, moving in perfect coordination. One of them opened the back door with a precise motion—clearly something practiced. Alea swallowed hard, her heartbeat racing. Her curiosity now mingled with fear. Two of the men scanned the area sharply, as if ensuring no witnesses. She didn’t understand why she had to be involved with Damian Alaric, a powerful, mysterious figure. Why was national security involved? The car sped through the quiet city streets. Streetlights blurred past her tired eyes. Alea sat in silence, clutching her bag tightly, heart pounding. She tried to find logic in the madness—but it all felt like an irrational nightmare. She tried to ask questions, but the man beside her only said, “Mr. Damian will explain everything.” If the government forced her to marry a mafia boss… her life was being used as currency. Damian Alaric. Mafia. Marriage. Government. What was the connection? “Can I speak to my mother first?” she asked quietly. “No, Miss. All outside contact is restricted until after the wedding,” he said flatly. “This is insane,” Alea muttered. “You’re kidnapping me.” “We’re not kidnapping you, Miss,” he replied sharply, eyes focused on the road. “But it’s not fair. I just want to talk to my mother.” Her voice cracked as she tried to stay calm, though panic gnawed at her heart. He shook his head. “Rules are rules, Miss. This is for your safety—and your family’s.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. Despair consumed her. “Forcing someone to marry ‘for their own good’? That’s madness!” Cold air bit at her skin as she stepped out of the car. Her eyes widened at the sight of a massive mansion hidden deep in a pine forest. Armed guards stood at every corner, tension rising with each step. A man stood at the entrance. She knew it was him—the man she’d only heard stories about. Damian Alaric. Tall beneath the golden lights, dressed in a black shirt and suit. His eyes—piercing, unblinking—seemed to stare into her soul. Handsome, but dangerous. His face chiseled like a statue, but cold as a tombstone. Her heart raced—not just in fear, but in curiosity. Why was she here? As she approached, Alea studied his face. Mystery surrounded him. Each step felt heavier, like the ground beneath her was deciding her fate. “Alea Moreau,” he said in a low, emotionless voice. “Welcome to the most beautiful prison you’ll ever live in—with me.” His words were repulsive. Alea clenched the campus-worn dress still on her body. “I will never marry you.” Damian stepped closer. “Unfortunately… we’re already married.” He pulled a document from his pocket—a marriage certificate. Official. Government-stamped. Alea read her name, alongside a signature… eerily like her own. “What the hell is this?!” she snapped. “Your father arranged it all,” Damian said coolly. “And now… he’s vanished.” Alea staggered. The world spun out of control. She stared at the paper, eyes wide. “This can’t be real,” she whispered. Her chest rose and fell with betrayal and fury. “My father? How could he do this to me?” Damian didn’t answer. He turned to his guards. “Take her to her room. Secure the door. No communication. We fly to Rome tomorrow.” “Rome?” Alea echoed. “For our honeymoon,” he said flatly. “Or your final execution. Depends on whether you choose to be a wife… or a threat.” Alea took a step back. “I’m not going with you.” Damian chuckled. “Too bad. The guards won’t let you leave alone.” Alea’s eyes welled with tears—fear and fury intermingled. “I will never be a mafia’s puppet!” she screamed, her voice echoing in the grand hall. “I will never be part of your sick plan!” Damian stopped walking. His eyes glinted, but his tone stayed cold. “A puppet? You think I wanted this? That I enjoy it? That I want to drag you into my world of blood and danger?” His voice was low, cutting like a blade through frozen air. Alea stepped closer, her face flushed with anger. “Then why did you agree? For money? Power? Or is this just some twisted game to feed your madness?”