The Mafia’s Bride

Blood trailed down the cracks of the marble floor. "Please my lord!!! I’ll repay every cent, I swear” the desperate man cried, collapsing to his knees in the center of the grand hall. His voice echoed against cold walls stained with stories of ruin. “I just need capital. A small loan. For a business. To feed my family..” On the obsidian throne lounged the man known as Godfather Peterson. He exhaled a slow stream of smoke from between his lips, the cigar glowing like a tiny fire from hell. His eyes, dark, vacant, powerful, never left the man groveling at his feet. “And if you can’t?” he asked, voice glacial and guttural. The man hesitated, lips trembling. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. “Speak” the Godfather barked, bored. The man swallowed his shame. “I… I’ll give you my daughter.” The silence that followed was sharp, like the glint of a blade. "You don't have a daughter, " Peterson said with a hard squint. “My wife… she gave birth yesterday. A girl” the man whispered. Something passed through the Godfather’s expression. Not emotion. Calculation. “Deal” he said. The man collapsed completely, pressing his head to the cold floor. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” "Get him a bag, and make him sign " Peterson ordered his men, already bored again. “Yes boss” The man was yanked up and dragged away, the ink of fate already dry before the contract was even written. Moments later, the grand doors creaked open again. A small boy, no older than seven, trudged in, sweaty, breathless, bruised from the morning’s combat drills. His fists were red. Peterson scowled. "Why are you here? Training isn't over" "Dad, I'm tired.." the boy whispered, eyes glistening. The Godfather stood, towering like a shadow with a heart made of iron. “Never say that word again, you weak little parasite” The boy flinched, tears running down his eyes. “No more tears. Mafia’s do not cry, we destroy, we conquer, we do not weep. Tears and weakness are taboos!!” He shouted. “I just… I want to play with other kids..” “You’re not like other kids!” Peterson roared, slamming a glass against the table. “You’re my blood. You’re the next king of chaos. And you will bleed until you become one!” The boy’s face crumpled. “Take him away. Add two more hours to his session.” “No, Dad, please, don’t do this” “What are you still standing there for, take him away” Two guards seized the crying child. He fought weakly, tired already but they could care less. "Yes boss!" The boy’s cries echoed as the door slammed shut. NINETEEN YEARS LATER ≈ FRANCE THE BLAKE RESIDENCE The morning air was quiet, too quiet. Alice Blake opened the mailbox with a sigh and retrieved the lone envelope inside. The paper felt stiff, official, almost.. sinister. She frowned at the red wax seal. Inside the house, Simon sat in his usual corner with the news paper and a like warm cup of tea. “What’s that honey ?” “Did you request mail?” Alice asked, walking in with cautious steps. “No. Why ?” She handed it to him. Simon opened the envelope slowly, then froze as his blood drained from his face. The letter trembled in his hands. Alice saw his expression shift and her stomach turned. “What is it ?” He handed it over. She read the embossed signature. Godfather Peterson. Her breath caught. “Simon… it’s due ?? Already ?” “One day left, ” he whispered. “I forgot. It’s been nineteen years…” “You what ?!” “I swear, i didn’t mean to. I thought…” “What are we going to do?!” Alice snapped, panic rising. “We don’t have the money!” Simon swallowed hard. “Then we give her” Alive staggered back. “You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking” “He’ll kill us both if we don’t” “So what are we supposed to do?? You know how dangerous he is, just twenty four hours…” Before she could complete her statement, Simon’s phone rang. The name on the screen made her blood freeze. Peterson. “Don’t answer it” Alice whispered, voice trembling. But Simon already had. “Your clock’s ticking, Simon” came the growling voice from the other end. “Pay up. Or deliver the girl” Simon’s voice cracked. “What will you do with her?” “She’ll marry my son” Click. The call ended. Silence flooded the room like poison. “Married…?” Alice voice was barely audible. “To a Peterson?” Simon said nothing. He didn’t need to. Their daughter’s fate was already sealed. •••• BLACK CROWN PENTHOUSE ≈ RED ROOM In the crimson-lit war room of the Penthouse, six gangs members listened in eerie silence as Godfather Peterson outlined the next day’s mission. “That sounds fun” Flora smirked, twirling her blade. “As if you’ll last five minutes” Dinah sneered. “Shut up, both of you” Cassia muttered, arms crossed. “Silence” Peterson snapped. The room went still. “She’s still the baby, Sorry doll” Nico whispered. “Stop calling me doll” she snapped. “Then stop acting like one” Camden grinned. Cassia frowned suddenly. “Has anyone seen Mason today?” “He’s on the ship mission. Alone” Flora replied casually. “What?! That’s suicide” Cassia started, but the doors creaked open. Mason Peterson walked in, tall, lethal, his black coat soaked in blood. A box dangled from one hand. The room stood in reverent silence. “Mason” Cassia gasped, rushing to embrace him. “He didn’t return the hug. He stood cold, unmoved. “Is that blood?” “Not mine” Mason muttered and strode to the Godfather, placing the box at his feet. Peterson grinned. “Good job, son” "You should take over from here, see me in my suite after you're done, we have something to talk about" God father Peterson said. Everyone bowed as he walked out of the room with the box Mason brought. "Hey" Enzo smirked at Mason. "Take over, I'm not in the mood for this" Mason muttered and walked out of the room. Indigo watched him go, her heart sinking. “ He didn’t even look at me…” “He just keeps getting hotter by the day” Dinah murmured. Cassia’s eyes burned. “Back off b***h” “Enough” Enzo groaned. “We should talk about how we’re moving tomorrow. Not this” "Fine, go on" Flora rolled her eyes. ••• GODFATHER PETERSON SUITE Mason entered the Godfather’s private cellar where the air smelled of aged wine and old blood. Peterson was already pouring his favorite Bordeaux. “You’re here.” “Just say what you need to say” Mason grunted, wiping blood off his hands. “I need to get this s**t off my body” Peterson slid a thick file across the table. “Read.” Mason opened it. Frowned. Read it again. Then slammed it shut. “What the hell is this ?” “A marriage contract” “Mine ?” Mason spat “To who ?? The f**k ??” "You will find out tomorrow" Peterson said with a grin. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not marrying anyone. I don’t do love. You taught me that, remember?” “You don’t have to live her. Just breed her. Give me a grandson” “Was that what mum was to you?” Mason growled. “A breeding machine?” Peterson’s grin faded. “You’re getting married, Mason. You’ll lead this empire someday, and I need blood on that f*****g throne.” Mason’s stare turned lethal. “What did you do with my mother?” Peterson’s face hardened. “She’s alive, that’s all you need to know” “She had better be. If she’s not… I’ll burn you to the ground, not giving two shits if you’re my father or not.” He turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him. Godfather Peterson remained still, his gaze falling on the contract Mason had left behind. He picked it up, smirked, then reached for a second envelope tucked beneath the wine rack, sealed with good wax and marked “Confidential: Blake Family” He opened it slowly, revealing a photograph. A new born baby girl wrapped in a faded hospital blanket and the signature of Simon Blake. Beneath it, a scrawled note: “Collateral secured, Payment due in 19years” Peterson lit a match, stared at the photo, then whispered. “She has no idea she’s already married” And with that, he dropped the picture into the flames.