THE MAFIA'S BRIDE

Happy Birthday Valentina

Chapter 1: Happy Birthday Valentina

Valentina POV

Finally. Twenty years old.

For as long as I could remember, I'd treated this birthday like a magical escape hatch—the day the suffocating iron gates of my father's empire would finally swing open.

I closed my eyes and let myself picture it. A quiet apartment with sunlight streaming through windows I'd chosen. Clothes I'd picked without consulting a guard. Walking down a street without shadows trailing behind me. Normal. Ordinary. Beautiful. Maybe I'd even get to do something as beautifully mundane as going on a real date with a guy, without a shadow looming over us. No guards. No whispers. Just freedom.

Finally.

Ring. Ring.

A sharp sound echoed through the room, ripping through my daydream. I jumped, heart slamming against my ribs as my hands flew to my chest. Living in this house meant sudden noises usually spelled danger.

My eyes darted until I spotted my phone buzzing violently across the bedside table.

I stretched forward, pulling the blanket closer. My fingers found the phone, and one glance at the screen curved my lips into a smile.

"Bell."

I pressed the green button.

"Yes, Bell?"

Her voice blasted through the speaker, so sharp and excited I pulled the phone back from my ear.

"Happy birthday, Sis!! Oh my god, I am literally vibrating right now! Cue the confetti! Blow the horns! Your favorite and most beautiful sister has officially entered the chat! I've been staring at the clock for three hours waiting to call you. Seriously, if Dad tries to ruin today with some boring Mafia meeting, I will personally come over and dye all his suits neon pink. This is the official start of your freedom era! So drop everything, put on your favorite outfit, and get ready, because I am coming over with cupcakes and a massive list of bad decisions we are going to make today! Are you ready or what?!"

I couldn't help but laugh, pulling the phone further away as her breathless words bombarded me. Bell's chaotic energy was exactly what I needed to wash away the heavy thoughts of my father.

"Take a breath, Bell," I teased, my smile widening. "I haven't even gotten out of bed yet."

"What! Seriously?" Her voice echoed.

"Yeah."

"Okay, whatever. So what are you planning? Anything fun? Wild? Parties?"

"You know how strict Father is. He won't let me do anything without guards surrounding me like I'm some high-security prisoner transferring to Alcatraz. Completely ruins the vibe."

"But Tinaaa," Bell groaned, stretching the nickname out dramatically. "You can't keep living like this. You're literally twenty already. Not a kid. Not a teenager. You've gotta muster up courage. Face him. Look him in the eyes. And demand. Your. Rights."

She punched each word with mock seriousness. I could hear her silent chuckle through the line. Could picture her silly face.

But her words struck something in my chest—a spark I hadn't felt in years. I sat up straighter.

"I am celebrating. I've planned things with friends. And you're right—it's time Father understands. I'll talk to him today. Calmly. Reasonably. He'll listen."

"Yay! See? I know I'm always right."

I rolled my eyes, a fond smirk tugging at my mouth. "By the way, aren't you in Paris? So what do you mean you're coming over?"

"Oh, that." She giggled, mischief laced through the sound. "I'll be landing in San Francisco before dawn. I'm coming back home. Vacation's over. And I want to celebrate with you. So expect cupcakes."

I passed a hand through my hair, stretching my legs under the sheets. "Okay, Bell. Safe travels. Love you."

"Love you more."

Click.

The line went dead, leaving me alone in the quiet room. But this time, the silence didn't feel quite as heavy.

I almost laughed at myself. Almost believed today would be different. Almost.

****

I swung my legs out of bed and padded across the room to my closet. My fingers trailed over the fabrics—soft silks, expensive cottons, all chosen by someone else. Today, I wanted something that felt like me. I pulled out a simple cream dress, nothing extravagant. Something a normal girl might wear on her birthday.

I dressed slowly, savoring the small act of choice. I even left my hair down, loose waves cascading past my shoulders. No updos. No diamonds. Just me.

A soft knock at my door made me freeze.

"Signorina Valentina." Marco's voice, muffled through the wood. "Your father requests your presence in his study. Immediately."

My stomach dropped. Immediately. Not when you're ready. Not after breakfast. Immediately.

"I'll be there in a moment," I called out, forcing steadiness into my voice.

I took a breath. Held it. Released.

Calmly. Reasonably. He'll listen.

I walked through the winding hallways of the Castello mansion, each step echoing against the marble floors. Portraits of ancestors watched me pass—stern faces, cold eyes, all of them bound by blood and duty. I wondered if any of them had ever wanted to escape. If any of them had ever dreamed of something more.

The study doors loomed before me. Carved oak. The Castello crest embossed in gold.

I knocked.

"Enter."

My father's voice was gravel and command. I pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

He sat behind his massive mahogany desk, gray columns of cigar smoke curling toward the ceiling. He didn't look up immediately, just continued reading whatever document lay before him, intentionally letting the silence stretch to remind me of who held the power. His presence filled the room—heavy, suffocating, absolute.

"Father." I kept my hands folded neatly in front of me, forcing my voice to remain level. "You wanted to see me?"

Slowly, he set down his gold fountain pen. He tilted his head back, fixing me with eyes that were entirely devoid of warmth—the same unblinking eyes that had made hardened killers tremble, the same eyes that signed death warrants without a second thought.

"Happy Birthday, Valentina."

The unexpected words caught me off guard. A fragile, desperate hope flared up in my chest. A warm smile broke across my face, and for a fleeting second, my eyes glistened with the foolish belief that maybe, just maybe, he saw me as his daughter today.

"Thank you, Father."

"Sit down," he commanded, gesturing to the leather chair across from him.

I sat, smoothing the fabric of my cream dress, trying to anchor myself.

"There is something we need to discuss." He leaned back, steepling his fingers as his eyes mapped my face. "There won't be a birthday party tonight. There will be an engagement. Yours."

The words hung in the air like a physical blow. An engagement? My brain scrambled, refusing to process the syllables. Surely I had misheard.

A breathless, nervous chuckle escaped my throat. "Father, I—could you please say that again? I must have heard you wrong. I thought I heard you say my engagement." I forced a light laugh, waiting for him to tell me it was a cruel joke.

"You heard me perfectly fine," he replied. His voice was entirely flat. Unbothered. His face remained an unreadable mask of stone.

"Father, I—" Before I could even gather enough breath to form a sentence, his sharp voice cut me off.

"The D'Amore family has proposed an alliance. A marriage."

Every ounce of air left my lungs. The room seemed to tilt. "What?"

"D'Amore and I have reached an agreement," he continued, delivering the sentence like he was reading a weather report. Like he hadn't just dropped an anvil through my entire future. "You will marry the heir to the New York mob, Hades, to unite our families."

"No." The word ripped out of my throat before my survival instincts could stop it. My hands locked onto the armrests. "No. I won't."

"You will." His volume didn't rise. It didn't need to. The quiet authority in his tone was far more terrifying than a shout.

"What exactly are you talking about, Father?" Voice trembling, I pushed myself out of the chair, unable to sit still under the suffocating weight of his decree. "An engagement? A wedding? I don't even have a boyfriend! I literally haven't been allowed to so much as kiss a boy under your roof! And suddenly, you want me to get married? To Hades?! Hades?!"

"I fail to see the problem here," he murmured, resting his arms on the desk. He looked genuinely bored, shifting a piece of paper aside as if my ruined life was a minor inconvenience.

"I'm not a child you can just force into a marriage I don't want!" The room was spinning. My hands were shaking so violently I had to press my palms flat against my thighs to hide the tremors. "Hades D'Amore is a monster. Everyone knows what he's done. He had his first kill at eight years old, Father. Eight. He's ruthless. He's cold. I've heard the stories—"

"The stories are true." My father cut me off, completely unflinching. He met my frantic gaze with absolute ice. "And that is exactly why this alliance is necessary. A man like that makes a powerful ally. You will marry him, Valentina. There is no debate."

"Father, please—" My voice finally cracked, the weight of my tears threatening to choke me. I rounded the desk, abandoning all pride, desperate to find a shred of humanity in the man who raised me. "I've never asked you for anything. I've been obedient. I've followed every single rule. I just want a normal life. Please. Don't do this to me. Don't make me marry Hades. Please, Father."

"Normal?" He laughed—a hollow, mirthless sound that rattled around the wood-paneled walls. "You were born a Castello. There is no normal. There is only duty, and there is survival. And you will do your part."

"I won't," I breathed, backing away from him, my chest heaving. The determination Bell had sparked earlier flared into a desperate, wild fire. "I refuse. You can't make me do this."

My father's eyes narrowed, hardening into something dark and lethal. The bored facade completely vanished.

"Then perhaps Isabella will take your place."

The world stopped spinning. The air in my throat turned to glass.

"What?"

"You heard me." His voice was pure frost, cutting through my defense mechanism instantly. "If you won't become Mrs. D'Amore, your sister will."

"Father, you can't!" Panic, raw and blinding, flooded my veins. My voice dropped to a frantic whisper. "Bell is only sixteen! She's a minor. She's just a child—"

"She's a Castello," he barked, standing up to his full height. He walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning his back to me. "She is young enough to be shaped. Molded. And I will do whatever is necessary to protect this empire. If you think I won't sacrifice one daughter to save the other, Valentina, you don't know me at all. This is just business."

I stared at his broad back, completely paralyzed. This was the man who had tucked me into bed when I was small. The man who had shielded me from the dark when I was a toddler. And now, he was standing there, calmly planning to throw my baby sister into the jaws of a wolf.

"Are we just tools to you?" The words ripped out of me, jagged, raw, and completely broken. "Do we have no lives? No choices? Are we just bargaining chips to be traded away to the highest bidder?!"

My father didn't answer. He didn't even turn around. He simply walked toward the heavy oak doors, gripping the brass handle.

"Congratulate Isabella on her engagement," he said flatly, preparing to step out and seal her fate.

The silence that followed was deafening.

My heart pounded so hard against my ribs I could taste it—a metallic, copper tang of pure panic. Isabella. I could still hear her bright, chaotic laugh echoing through my phone from just an hour ago. Her silly nicknames. Her excited plans for cupcakes. Her beautiful, untouched innocence.

If she married a monster like Hades, that light would be snuffed out in a week. He would break her. He would turn her joyful spirit into a hollow shell until there was nothing left.

I couldn't let him touch her. I couldn't let her suffer. I would rather burn alive in hell myself than let a single flame touch my sister.

"Wait!" I screamed.

My father paused, his hand still frozen on the doorknob.

Hot, burning tears finally spilled over my eyelashes, tracking warm paths down my cold cheeks. I reached up, aggressively wiping them away with the back of my hand, refusing to let him see me sob.

"Fine." The single word tasted like ash on my tongue, choking me as I forced it out. "I'll marry him."

Slowly, my father turned around. His expression gave absolutely nothing away. There was no look of relief, no smug smirk of victory. Just the cold, calculating satisfaction of a businessman who had successfully closed a deal.

"Good," he said, adjusting his cuffs. "The engagement will take place today. Here, at the mansion. The D'Amore family is already on their way."

"Today?" I gasped, the room tilting all over again. "I have no time—no time to prepare, no time to—"

"There is nothing to prepare," he stated coldly, walking right past me back to his desk as if I were a ghost. "You will present yourself. You will smile. You will play your part. That is all."

I walked out of the study in a complete haze. My feet carried me back down the winding, marble hallways, but my brain didn't record a single step.

When the door to my bedroom clicked shut, I sank onto the edge of my mattress, staring blankly at the cream dress I had chosen so proudly just an hour ago.

Today.

My twentieth birthday.

The day I was supposed to be free.