CRIMSON VOWS

The laughter inside the villa was warm, echoing through the marbled walls and rich wooden beams. String lights blinked gently in the garden outside, where guests mingled with wine glasses and sugar-coated words. It was a celebration, an engagement dinner for the upcoming bride, Aira. Aira stood in the corridor, her fingers nervously adjusting the delicate gold chain around her neck. Her soft pink lehenga shimmered beneath the chandeliers, and loose strands of hair curled against her cheek. Her eyes were wide with uncertainty, not because of the marriage itself, but because of the pressure that clung to her like invisible chains. Her fiancé was kind. Her future seemed secure. Yet her heart felt hollow. She barely had time to breathe before everything changed. Screams erupted from outside. A heavy crash echoed through the night. Then came silence. Dead, suffocating silence. Then came the boots. Heavy and deliberate, they echoed across the tiled floors as though they owned the ground they walked on. One by one, black-suited men poured into the house, armed and merciless. Their presence was like a storm swallowing the sun. Leading them was him. Dominic Moretti. Tall, ruthless, and commanding. He wore a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing tattoos that curled like serpents around his arms. His jaw was sharp, and his obsidian eyes swept across the room like a predator studying its prey. A cigarette rested between his fingers while smoke curled around him like a serpent. The crowd froze. Glasses slipped from trembling hands. Someone whimpered. The debtor's son, Aira's fiancé, stood speechless. Beside him, his father turned as pale as chalk. His grandmother clutched her shawl as though it were a shield. Dominic flicked the ash from his cigarette onto the polished floor. "I believe someone here owes me five million," he said, his voice calm but laced with venom. "Instead of paying up, you thought hiding in your future in-laws' mansion was a smart move?" The father stepped forward, his voice shaking. "P... Please, Mr. Moretti. I just needed more time. My son is getting married. We were..." "I don't give a f*** about your son's wedding," Dominic snapped. He took another step forward. His men raised their guns slightly. It was only a warning. "You had time. You ran out of it." Aira stood frozen near the stairs, her heart pounding like a war drum. Her eyes met his for just a second. Everything stopped. Dominic's breath caught. His head tilted slightly as his eyes narrowed. Something flickered across his face. Curiosity. Surprise. Obsession. He walked toward her slowly, every step deliberate. The entire house watched in stunned silence. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice lower now, almost like a secret. She hesitated. "A... Aira." The corner of his lips lifted into something that was not quite a smile. "Beautiful name. It suits you." Aira frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Dominic let out a quiet chuckle. Soft, yet dangerous. "Because I came here for money. But now..." He turned to the debtor, who was still trembling beside the dining table. "Forget the five million. I want her." The room erupted in gasps. The father's knees nearly gave way. "You... what?" he croaked. Dominic exhaled slowly. "You heard me. A contract. Give me the girl, and your debt is cleared. You walk away free. From this moment on, she belongs to me." Aira stared at him in disbelief. "You can't just..." "Oh, I can," Dominic interrupted smoothly, never taking his eyes off her. "And I will." He stepped closer until only a breath separated them. "Marry me, Aira. Or watch your entire family pay the price."