Owned by Mr Mafia

Chapter One: The wedding

Today should have been the happiest day of Isabella’s life.

Instead, it felt like the universe had chosen this night to break her.

The mansion loomed ahead like a monster carved from stone, its walls swallowing the moonlight. Black SUVs lined the driveway, engines ticking as they cooled, headlights slicing through the fog. Men in dark suits stood guard, rifles resting casually against their shoulders. Their stillness was more frightening than noise like the quiet before a storm.

Isabella’s heart thudded wildly, each beat echoing in her ribs. Walking toward the mansion felt like sinking deeper into a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from.

Her father stood at the entrance, rigid and cold. The man who once tucked her into bed wouldn’t even meet her eyes. He didn’t speak. Didn’t reach for her. He just stared ahead, pretending this wasn’t happening.

“Papa… please,” Isabella whispered, voice cracking. “Don’t do this to me.”

He stayed silent. Her stepmother didn’t bother to hide the smirk twisting her mouth. Her stepsister folded her arms, watching with cruel satisfaction. Their victory tasted bitter in Isabella’s throat.

Her fingers tightened around the red dress she’d taken from her late mother’s closet. She had imagined wearing it someday, maybe as a wedding dress when she was older, when she was loved, when her dreams aligned with someone else’s. She had always hoped that someone would be Diego.

But life had other plans.

“You’re late,” a voice echoed from the end of the aisle.

The air changed. The hairs on her neck stood.

Luca Moretti.

He looked exactly like the kind of man people warned you about: tall, broad, and terrifyingly composed. His dark hair framed eyes that held no kindness, only authority. He was the kind of man who didn’t ask for control. He simply took it.

Isabella’s stomach dropped.The priest beside him trembled violently, a gun pressed against his temple. He clutched the Bible like it held his last hope. No one in the room dared move or breathe without Luca’s permission.

The last few hours replayed painfully in Isabella’s mind:Her father went into her room. Her desperate attempt to run. The men dragged her back before she reached the gate. The priest began to refuse the ceremony. The moment everything collapsed.

Now she stood at the altar, surrounded by guns, enemies, and broken promises.

Her father had whispered an apology earlier quietly, useless, drowned in guilt.Isabella swallowed her heartbreak and stepped forward anyway, because what choice did she have?

She didn’t look at Luca and didn't want to but her eyes betrayed her. He didn’t smile. He didn’t soften. He simply waited, eyes locked on her like a hunter watching prey.

The priest’s voice sliced through the tension.

“We are gathered here today to witness the union of—”

The words blurred. Isabella repeated her vows in a quiet, trembling whisper, each one feeling like a lie slipping off her tongue.

“I… I do.”

Luca answered immediately, steady and sure.

“I do.”

Her blood ran cold.

“You may now… kiss the bride,” the priest stammered.

Isabella’s pulse shot into her throat.

This wasn’t how she ever imagined her first kiss as a bride. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t destiny. It was fear. It was forced.

Luca stepped closer, slow and deliberate. Her body stiffened.

“Not yet, princess,” he murmured near her ear, voice dark and low. “You’ll beg for it someday.”

A shiver crawled down her spine.

He leaned in and pressed a firm, claiming kiss against the side of her neck light enough not to bruise, heavy enough to remind her that he owned her now.

She sucked in a shaky breath, tears burning her eyes.

Her stepmother beamed with satisfaction. Her stepsister’s smirk deepened. The betrayal cut deeper than any knife.

The priest finished the ceremony with shaky hands. The room clapped weakly. No joy. No celebration. Just obligation and fear.

Luca brushed his hand against hers not tenderly, not lovingly just to remind her she belonged to him. She flinched inside but remained still.The declaration was made.

They were married.Luca leaned down again, voice barely above a whisper.“From today on, your life is mine.”Her chest tightened. She couldn’t breathe. Her dreams of Diego, her mother’s warmth, the life she deserved all slipped away like smoke in the night.She lifted her eyes, searching the room one last time. The people she once called family looked back with empty faces.

She realized then:She hadn’t been married.She had been sold.

And the man who bought her the devil himself stood right in front of her, calm and unshaken.This was her wedding day.And it marked the end of her freedom.