The Mafia Lord's Broken Bride

Chapter Five

SERENA

I stared at myself. I was dressed in a black gorgeous gown that stuck to my skin, the feeling of deja vu hit me. I saw myself in this dress, two years ago. I couldn't believe I was back into the life I desperately tried to run from.

But I wasn't going to let it get to me this time. I was going to use my smartness and wittiness for my own use. This would only be for revenge, and Damien would regret ever marrying me.

Mom stepped in, disrupting my thoughts. “You’re ready,” she said. I looked at her reflection through the mirror.

She was dressed in a gorgeous blue dress and heavy jewelry. She was giving birth to the mother of the bride already. I snickered at the thought.

She put both of her hands on my shoulders, gripping it tightly. “Damien would be here in a few and you know what that means,” her grip tightened. “Remember that you owe us for saving your lives and if you try smart like you did before, then there wouldn't even be a grave to bury your battered body.”

Her voice was laced with venom, but it didn't terrify me. I met her gaze and nodded slowly. They wanted a puppet? I was going to give them one. And destroy them one after the other.

She led me downstairs, to a second living room where my dad usually held important meetings. I had only been here once and it was a mistake which led me to face a series of scolding. But being here with permission means there's no funny business.

I took my seat, trying my best not to make a conversation with any of them. I just wanted to get this over with once and for all.

“He's here,” Dad announced.

The doors opened slowly. Heavy footsteps echoed before the man himself walked in.

Damian Vescari.

The moment he stepped into the room, everything went quiet. He was tall, dressed in a black suit that fit him too perfectly. His face didn’t give anything away — no smile, no frown, just a blank expression and calm eyes that looked like they had seen too much already.

My father stood up with that fake warm smile of his. “Damian, welcome,” he said, like this was some kind of happy reunion instead of a deal.

Damian gave a small nod. “Mr. Moretti.” His voice was low, steady. The kind that made people listen even when he said very little.

Then his gaze found mine.

For a second, it felt like time stopped. His eyes were deep and cold, but there was something else too — something unreadable. I didn’t look away. I wanted him to know I wasn’t afraid, even though my heart was beating so fast I thought it might burst.

“This is my daughter, Serena,” my father said proudly, like he was showing off some trophy. “She’ll be your bride.”

Bride. That word hit me like a slap.

Damian shook my father’s hand, his expression not changing one bit. “The agreement stands,” he said simply.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up, ignoring the way my mom’s eyes warned me to keep quiet. “What does a man like you gain by marrying your enemy’s daughter?”

The room froze. My father’s smile faded.

Damian looked at me for a long second. Then he said in that same calm tone, “Your life, for starters.”

My stomach twisted. “My life?” I repeated, almost laughing. “So that’s what this is about. You save me just to own me?”

He didn’t blink. “If I hadn’t stepped in, you wouldn’t be standing here right now,” he said. “Your family didn’t save you out of love, Serena. They saved you because I asked for you.”

The words hit harder than a slap. I stared at him, trying to process everything. “You asked for me?” I whispered.

“Yes,” he said. “Because if I didn’t, they would’ve buried you. You know that.”

I shook my head, feeling tears burn my eyes. “So now I’m supposed to thank you for saving me? For turning me into your property?”

Damian’s jaw tightened. “You can see it however you want. But I made sure you lived.”

My father cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Enough,” he said coldly. “You two will marry next week. That’s final. The papers are already prepared.”

I turned to him. “You’re selling me again,” I said softly.

He looked me dead in the eye. “You wanted freedom,” he said. “Now you’ll pay its price.”

I wanted to scream, to throw something, to break every glass in that room. But instead, I stood there, frozen. The men around me talked business — money, territory, alliances — while I stood in a dress that suddenly felt too tight, like it was choking me.

When it was finally over, the room emptied, and Damian was still there. He leaned against the wall, watching me quietly.

“You don’t have to look at me like that,” I said bitterly. “Like I owe you my life.”

He didn’t answer at first. Then he said quietly, “I didn’t do it to own you. I did it to stop a war that would’ve killed hundreds of people. Including you.”

I let out a small laugh, though nothing about it was funny. “So I’m just a pawn then,” I said. “A piece on your board.”

He stepped closer, his voice low but clear. “No. You’re a survivor. But remember something, Serena—sometimes survival comes at a price.”

He turned and walked out, leaving me there in the quiet room.

I looked down at my shaking hands. Maybe he thought he saved me. Maybe he thought he was my hero.

But he was wrong.

He didn’t save me. He just gave me a new war to fight.

And this time, I wasn’t going to lose. I wasn't going to be that weak and naive girl anymore.

“He thinks he saved me,” I whispered under my breath. “But he just gave me a new battlefield.”