The Sicilian's Obsession

The Don's Bride

Sophia's POV

The black ink on the document had dried, locking my fate in an invisible cage called marriage.

Vito wasted absolutely no time. As soon as I put down the golden pen, the Don ordered the mansion's butler; a sour-faced middle-aged woman named Francesca, to show me. Not to the guest room, but rather to a spacious suite on the right wing of the second floor that connects directly to Don Vittorio Greco's private chambers.

The thick oak door closed behind me. Once alone, my knees buckled. I slumped against the door, bending my legs and burying my face between my knees.

Marriage.

The word kept replaying in my head like a tortured echo. My whole life, I'd always imagined marriage as the culmination of love. Something sacred, warm, and done out of free choice.

But now, that holiest thing was being used by Vito as an iron chain to bind my freedom. I wouldn't be a wife in the true sense of the word. I would be merely a political asset, a legal shield, and a captive doctor, legally labeled in the eyes of church and state.

I forced myself to stand with my body still shaking, trying to distract myself by observing my new room.. The room is very spacious, dominated by olive green, charcoal gray, and luxurious touches of gold. A queen-size bed with a silk mosquito net stands right in the center of the room..

In another corner, there is a large glass door that leads directly to the balcony, presenting a view of the barren Sicilian hills under the glow of the morning sun. However, my attention was suddenly diverted when I saw a small black velvet box on the marble dressing table.

My footsteps felt heavy as I approached. With hands still trembling, I opened the box.

Inside, a white gold ring with a large emerald-cut diamond glinted sharply under the light. Inside the ring, engraved is the name of the most feared family on the entire island: Greco.

Instantly, intense nausea churned in my stomach. The ring was a symbol of absolute ownership. Wearing it meant announcing to the world that I had entered the dark circle my late mother had so desperately avoided..

A loud knock on the door broke the silence, making me reflexively close the velvet box with a harsh jerk.

"Come in," I called, trying my best to control my tone to sound firm.

The door opened and Francesca stepped in, carrying a long ivory dress wrapped in a transparent sheath. Behind her, two young maids carried several shoe boxes and Jewellery.

"Dottoressa," Francesca said with a stiff, formal nod. "Don Vittorio asked me to tell you that the best tailor from Milan will arrive in two hours to tailor this dress. Your wedding blessing will take place tomorrow evening in the family's private chapel."

I was stunned, my eyes widening in disbelief. "Tomorrow night?! That's too soon! My dad just arrived in Milan a few hours ago!"

"Don Greco doesn't like to delay business matters, Signorina," Francesca replied coldly, expressionless. She deliberately emphasized the word 'business,' as if to emphasize my bargaining position in this house. "All the preparations have been arranged. Your job is just to make sure you look perfect beside him."

After placing the dress and boxes on the bed, Francesca and the maids withdrew silently, leaving me in silence.

I walked over to the bed, staring at the soft, glistening ivory silk with a blank stare. Tomorrow night, I would have to walk the corridors of the ancient chapel, I took a sacred oath before God with a man who hid a gun under his expensive suit. A man who would destroy my father's business just to force me to kneel.

I stepped out onto the balcony, letting the dry hill breeze blow harshly against my face and blow through my black hair. From this height, I could clearly see armed guards patrolling heavily around the mansion's iron gates.

I touched my chest, feeling my heartbeat which was throbbing rapidly due to raging emotions. I was scared, angry, and felt betrayed by fate. However, in the midst of that thick despair, a sudden burst of anger stung my heart.

Vito thought he had won the game. He thought that by cornering me using Father's condition, I would become a docile puppet who would wear his ring with resignation and submission.

I gripped the iron railing of the balcony so tightly that my palms turned red.

“You probably know my name, Don Greco,” I whispered to the mountain breeze that blew, carrying the dry air of Sicily. “But I assure you, you will never be able to tame me.”

If this marriage is a new battlefield deliberately chosen by Vito, then I swear to myself to become the most stubborn enemy the Don has ever faced inside his own house.