His Forbidden Mafia Princess

Chapter - Ten

Aleena — POV

It had been a week since Nico left the Caruso estate.

My father had his chemists working around the clock, pushing to restart the drug operation that had been stalled. The lab sat on the opposite side of the basement, hidden behind layers of security far tighter than the abandoned section where I'd caught Nico brutalizing someone. Eleanor had already returned to California. Before she left, I made arrangements to keep her safe for now.

My phone buzzed.

Elanor : 'I'll be safe. Don't worry about me. I'm learning how to fight.'

A selfie followed. Eleanor stood in a self-defense class, gloves on, determination written across her face.

Good. For once, she wasn't running from reality.

I sat locked inside my room, typing lines of code while my father buried himself in the basement. Caldwell hadn't been seen around the estate for two days. Another guard had been assigned to watch me, but unlike Caldwell, he stayed outside instead of breathing down my neck.

My gaze drifted to the ring on my finger.

Why hadn't I taken it off? With a curse, I twisted the engagement ring free using soap. It fought me every step of the way, digging painfully into my skin before finally sliding off.

I exhaled in relief. Then I returned to work. The program on my screen was designed to uncover hidden locations, trafficking routes, and smuggling networks through patterns most people never noticed. It would be a nightmare for anyone operating in the shadows.

If I perfected it, the software would be worth billions. Better sold to the U.S. military than allowed to fall into the wrong hands. I continued refining the code, correcting flaws and strengthening the system. At the same time, I copied everything onto a USB drive.

Just in case. My father had already destroyed one laptop. I wouldn't give him the chance to destroy another. The transfer bar crawled forward. Ninety-nine percent. Then my bedroom door burst open.

My father stormed inside, fury carved into every line of his face. s**t. One percent left. I stepped in front of the laptop before he could reach it.

"Father, what do you need from me?"

His eyes hardened.

"How many times have I told you?" he growled. "No coding in this house."

His hand struck my face. Pain exploded through my jaw. My ears ring from the impact. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the transfer complete. Without hesitation, I snatched the USB and slipped it into my sleeve before turning back to him with an icy stare.

"If you ever put your hands on me again—"

"Shut up."

His voice cracked like a whip.

"Get ready. You're getting married today. Before that bastard comes back tomorrow."

The words hit harder than the slap. He grabbed my laptop. My stomach dropped.

"Wait. Don't take my laptop. Give it back."

I lunged forward.

"No."

He didn't even look at me.

"I'll burn it."

Then he walked out. The maids lingered in the doorway, hesitant.

"Miss, we need to get you ready."

I clenched my fists. f**k this. I hated this place. The only reason I endured this prison was Eleanor. Otherwise, I would've run from this hell years ago. An hour later, I stood dressed for a wedding I never wanted.

The white suit was elegant and expensive: a fitted jacket, a flared midi skirt, matching heels, a headband, and a clutch. It made me look less like a bride and more like the heir to a criminal empire.

A princess dressed for a throne built on blood. My brown hair was pinned into a neat bun. Subtle makeup hid the exhaustion beneath my eyes and brought color back to my pale skin.

Once the maids left, silence settled over the room.

My thoughts spiraled. I didn't even know the name of the man I was about to marry. If it wasn't Nico, then who? What kind of monster was waiting for me at the altar?.

I'd done everything I could to uncover his identity, but my father had hidden the details well. He knew me too well. He knew I'd tear through every file, every office, every locked drawer the moment his back was turned.

My heart pounded with anxiety. The promise I made to Eleanor weighed heavily on me. Could I even keep it anymore?

She had no idea how much my life had been twisted and sacrificed to protect hers. If she knew, she'd cry, beg me to run away, and insist none of it was worth it. But she also wouldn't be able to pursue her dream of becoming a doctor.

I couldn't take that away from her. Not when I'd spent years secretly teaching myself to code, studying in the shadows because my father would never allow it. Even now, without official credentials, I couldn't land the kind of job my skills deserved.

A bitter laugh almost escaped me. I sighed instead. The door opened. My father walked in carrying a stack of papers.

"Sign this marriage certificate."

I took the documents and scanned them. The groom's name was missing. So was his signature. I slowly lifted my gaze to him.

"Why aren't we going to a chapel?"

His expression darkened.

"Danger circles us like vultures," he hissed. "A discreet wedding is safer."

Then his patience snapped.

"Now sign the damn papers and get out of my house. I have a drug operation to rebuild and a debt to clear before Bellini tightens the leash any further."

He shoved a pen into my hand.

My fingers trembled. This felt less like signing a marriage certificate and more like signing away the last piece of my freedom. A thousand violent thoughts flashed through my mind. Killing my father and running away from this hellhole. But reality crushed every fantasy.

The estate was crawling with armed men. Security covered every exit. Cameras watched every corridor. My father had spent years turning this place into a fortress. There was nowhere to run.

Nowhere to hide. Slowly, I signed my name. My father's smile widened.

The sight made my skin crawl. He immediately handed the papers to one of his men along with a slip of paper containing what I assumed was the meeting location for the paper to delivered to.

Then he left. And I waited in my room.

******

Several hours later, the door opened again.

"Let's go."

My father didn't bother explaining. I followed him outside and climbed into the waiting car. The drive was long and silent. Eventually, the city disappeared behind us.

The location was secluded, far from public roads and curious eyes. Exactly the kind of place men like my father preferred. I adjusted my clutch purse. Inside was a small handgun.

If my future husband tried anything disgusting, I'd put a bullet in him and take my chances running. The car rolled to a stop outside an abandoned warehouse.

We waited. Minutes dragged by. My father finally stepped out and began making calls, irritation growing with each unanswered attempt. Nearby, Boris, his right-hand man,

tried to calm him down.

It wasn't working. My father's temper was reaching its limit. Then headlights appeared in the distance. A black Toyota Grand Highlander rolled into the lot and came to a smooth stop near the warehouse. The moment my father saw the vehicle, his expression softened.

A smile spread across his face. Relief. But the smile vanished the second the driver stepped out. My father's face turned pale. For the first time in years, I saw something I never thought possible. Fear.