Chapter1
1017 Words
The Wedding That Sealed Her
Fate
The scent of roses and expensive champagne filled the grand cathedral, mingling with the faint tang of burning wax from the hundreds of flickering candles. For the guests seated in the ornate pews, it was the fragrance of opulence, of celebration.
For Valeria De Luca, it was the stench of her own imprisonment.
She stood at the altar, spine stiff, fingers clenched so tightly in front of her that her nails bit into her palms. The silk of her wedding dress felt suffocating, its lace bodice cinched around her ribs like an iron cage.
The priest droned on in Latin, his voice a low hum in the background, but Valeria barely heard him. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she stared at the man beside her.
Alessandro Moretti.
The devil in a tailored suit.
A legend whispered in the dark corners of the underworld. The heir to the Moretti crime syndicate, a man whose name alone struck fear into the hearts of men twice his age.
And now—her husband.
Her father, Don Salvatore De Luca, had orchestrated this union to end a blood feud between their families. A truce sealed not with a handshake, but with the life of his only daughter.
She was the price of peace.
A pawn to be sacrificed.
Her gaze flickered to Alessandro, taking in the man she was about to vow her life to. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a custom black suit that fit him like a second skin. His dark hair was immaculately styled, his features chiseled and cold. But it was his eyes that sent a shiver through her—silver-gray, sharp and assessing, like a predator watching his prey.
They had met only twice before today. The first time had been at a formal dinner, where he barely acknowledged her. The second was when he "proposed." No kneeling, no soft words—just a simple statement of fact.
"You’ll be my wife."
Her father had accepted before she could even open her mouth.
And now, here she was.
"Do you, Valeria De Luca, take Alessandro Moretti to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
The priest’s words cut through the heavy silence.
Valeria’s throat tightened. She could feel the weight of a hundred eyes watching, waiting. Some with amusement, others with curiosity. None with sympathy.
She wanted to say no.
She wanted to run.
But in this world, there was no escape.
So she lifted her chin, forcing steel into her spine, and whispered the words that sealed her fate.
"I do."
A murmur swept through the church.
The priest turned to Alessandro. "Do you, Alessandro Moretti, take Valeria De Luca to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
For the first time since the ceremony began, Alessandro moved. He turned his head slightly, his silver gaze locking onto hers.
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
He didn’t hesitate.
"I do."
The vow was not a promise.
It was a claim.
His large hand slid over hers, slipping a ring onto her finger. The cold metal felt heavier than it should, like a shackle disguised as jewelry.
"It is done."
The priest’s voice barely registered.
Then Alessandro turned to her, his grip firm on her wrist, and without warning, he pulled her close.
His lips descended on hers—not tender, not gentle, but possessive. A public display of dominance, meant to show everyone exactly who she belonged to now.
Valeria’s body went rigid, her fists clenched at her sides. She refused to react, refused to give him the satisfaction of a response.
His fingers tightened slightly, as if daring her to defy him. Then, just as quickly, he pulled away, a smirk playing on his lips.
The applause was deafening, but all she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat.
Because she knew that tonight, her real nightmare would begin.
The Wedding Reception
The Moretti estate was a fortress disguised as a palace.
Towering marble pillars stretched toward the sky, crystal chandeliers bathed the grand ballroom in golden light, and an orchestra played soft, haunting melodies. Every detail screamed power, untouchable wealth.
And yet, despite the grandeur, Valeria felt like a prisoner in a gilded cage.
The reception was in full swing, filled with the most dangerous men in the world—mafia bosses, cartel leaders, corrupt politicians, and businessmen who hid their crimes behind designer suits.
Alessandro stood beside her, his hand resting possessively on her waist as he exchanged pleasantries with his allies.
Every touch reminded her of what she had become.
Property.
"You haven’t eaten anything," a voice murmured beside her.
She turned, surprised to find Luca Romano, Alessandro’s second-in-command, watching her with sharp eyes.
Unlike Alessandro, Luca had warmth to him. His reputation was just as deadly, but his easy charm made him likable—dangerous in a different way.
"Not hungry," she murmured.
Luca’s gaze flicked to Alessandro, then back to her. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.
"You don’t have to be afraid of him, Valeria."
Her stomach clenched. Didn’t she?
Before she could respond, Alessandro’s grip tightened around her waist.
"Luca," he said, his tone deceptively calm.
Luca straightened, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. "Just welcoming your wife properly, boss."
Alessandro didn’t smile. He rarely did.
"She doesn’t need your concern."
Luca held his gaze for a beat longer than was wise, then inclined his head. "Of course, boss."
He walked away, but not before giving Valeria one last unreadable glance.
The tension between the two men lingered long after Luca disappeared into the crowd.
Alessandro, however, looked amused.
"You should be careful around him," he murmured against her ear, his voice low and warning. "Luca likes to play the hero. But even heroes have their own agendas."
Valeria clenched her jaw.
"And you?" she shot back. "What’s your agenda?"
His lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk.
"I don’t pl
ay games, cara mia. I win them."
A shiver ran down her spine.
Because in this game, she already knew who was losing.
And it wasn’t him.
- Writer
