The Mafia's Boss Unexpected Bride

Chapter 3: Marry Me!

Bianca’s POV

My hands trembled uncontrollably as I worked on the ropes binding my sister’s wrists, my fingers clumsy and uncoordinated from the panic surging through my body, my heart pounding so loudly against my chest that it felt like it might burst at any second, and the sight in front of me my father bruised, bloodied, and unable to even lift his head properly, my sister shaken and terrified, the house turned upside down like a storm had passed through it made everything inside me tighten painfully as anger, fear, and helplessness collided all at once, leaving me struggling to breathe steadily.

“They came looking for him,” my sister said hurriedly the moment I loosened the rope around her hands, her voice shaky and uneven as she rubbed her wrists where the marks were already darkening, her eyes darting nervously toward the door as though she expected it to burst open again at any second.

“They said he owed money… a lot of it.”

My chest tightened at her words, my gaze shifting slowly to my father, who still refused to meet my eyes, his entire body slumped in defeat as though whatever strength he once had had been beaten out of him along with his dignity.

“How much?” I asked, my voice low but firm, even though my stomach was already twisting in anticipation of an answer I knew I wouldn’t be ready for.

He hesitated, swallowing hard before speaking, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s not something you can fix.”

“Tell me,” I pressed, my patience thinning as frustration began to mix with the fear building inside me.

Before he could respond

A knock.

Three sharp, deliberate knocks that sliced through the air and silenced everything else.

My entire body went still, every muscle locking instantly as my breath caught in my throat, my sister’s hand gripping my arm tightly as if she could anchor herself through me, while my father’s already pale face seemed to drain of what little color it had left.

“They’re back,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Don’t open it,” my father said quickly, panic lacing his weak tone.

“Please… just leave it.”

Another knock followed, louder this time, more forceful, more demanding, and the sound alone was enough to send a fresh wave of fear crashing through me as my mind raced with possibilities, none of them good, none of them safe.

I knew that if I didn’t open that door, they wouldn’t hesitate to break it down, and the thought of them forcing their way in again, destroying what little remained, hurting them even more

No.

I couldn’t let that happen.

“I’ll handle it,” I said quietly, though my voice lacked the confidence I wished it carried.

“Bianca, don’t,” my sister pleaded softly.

I didn’t respond, because there was nothing to say that would make this easier, nothing that would change what was already unfolding, and as I stood up slowly, my legs felt heavier than usual, like each step toward the door was weighed down by dread, my heartbeat echoing loudly in my ears as I reached for the handle and paused for a brief second, gathering what little courage I had left before finally pulling it open.

And then

Everything stopped.

He stood there, exactly as he had the night before, calm, composed, untouched by the chaos that seemed to follow him, his presence alone enough to shift the air around him into something heavier, something more dangerous, and for a moment all I could do was stare, my breath caught somewhere between my chest and my throat as recognition hit me instantly.

Ian Shaman.

Behind him stood several men, their expressions unreadable, their stance rigid and alert, the kind of men who didn’t need to say anything to make it clear they were not to be challenged, and yet despite their presence, it was him who commanded all the attention, him who made everything else fade into the background.

“You’re going to invite me in,” he said, his voice low and steady, not a request but a quiet command.

My fingers tightened slightly around the door as my body reacted before my mind could fully process what was happening, and without a word, I stepped aside, allowing him to walk in as though he already belonged there.

His gaze moved slowly across the room, taking in the destruction, the broken furniture, the scattered belongings, before settling on my father, and something flickered briefly in his eyes recognition, perhaps, or confirmation but it disappeared just as quickly as it came.

“So,” he said calmly, slipping his hands into his pockets, his tone almost conversational despite the tension suffocating the room, “this is where my money went.”

My stomach dropped at the implication, my head turning sharply toward my father, who looked even smaller now under Ian’s gaze, his earlier fear now replaced with something closer to resignation.

“P-please,” my father stuttered weakly, struggling to sit up straighter despite the pain evident on his face.

“I was going to pay it back”

“When?” Ian interrupted smoothly, his voice not raised yet carrying a weight that silenced the room instantly.

“Before or after you drank it away?”

The words landed heavily, each one sharp and precise, leaving no room for excuses, no space for denial.

I stepped forward before I could stop myself, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the fear clawing at my insides.

“He’ll pay you back,” I said.

“Just give us time.”

Ian’s eyes shifted to me slowly, deliberately, and the moment his gaze locked onto mine, it felt like everything else disappeared, like I was being pulled into something I couldn’t escape from.

“We’ve already met,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t know who you were,” I replied quickly, my chin lifting slightly in defiance despite the situation.

“I know,” he said, a faint hint of amusement touching his expression.

“You shouldn’t have touched me,” I added, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

One of his men shifted at that, clearly displeased, but Ian lifted a hand slightly, silencing him without even looking.

“Interesting,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on me as though I had just become something worth studying.

“I’m not here for that,” he added after a moment, his tone shifting slightly as he returned to the matter at hand.

“I’m here about the debt.”

My chest tightened.

“How much?” I asked.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead glancing at one of his men.

“Tell her.”

“Two hundred thousand,” the man said.

The number hit me hard, my breath catching as disbelief flooded my system.

“That’s impossible,” I said, shaking my head.

“There’s no way”

“It is,” Ian cut in calmly.

“And it’s due.”

“We don’t have that kind of money,” I said, my voice rising slightly despite myself.

“You can’t expect us to just produce that overnight.”

“Then we have a problem,” he replied simply.

Silence followed, heavy and suffocating, my mind racing desperately for a solution that didn’t exist, my thoughts colliding with reality in the worst possible way.

“Please,” I said finally, my voice softer now, desperation slipping through despite my efforts to stay composed.

“Just give us time.”

Ian watched me for a long moment, his gaze unreadable, calculating, and then slowly, almost deliberately, he stepped closer, closing the distance between us in a way that made my breath hitch as my body instinctively tensed.

“There is another option,” he said.

Hope flickered weakly.

“What?”

His eyes held mine.

“You marry me.”

The world seemed to pause, the words hanging in the air as my mind struggled to process them, confusion washing over me as I blinked, certain I had heard him wrong.

“What?”

“My grandmother is dying,” he continued, his tone calm, detached, like this was nothing more than a business arrangement.

“She wants to see me married… and to see an heir before she dies.”

“And you think I’ll just agree to that?” I asked, disbelief sharp in my voice.

“You don’t have many choices,” he replied.

“I’m not something you can buy,” I snapped.

“No,” he said evenly.

“You’re something that solves a problem.”

The words struck deeper than I expected, anger flaring in my chest as I took a step back.

“This is insane.”

“So is your situation,” he countered.

“Your father owes me a debt he cannot repay, and if I decide to collect it the way I usually do…”

His gaze shifted briefly toward my father.

I followed it.

And my blood ran cold.

“Marry me,” he said again, his voice quieter now but no less firm.

“And everything disappears.”

My heart pounded violently as the weight of his words settled over me, the reality of the situation pressing in from all sides until it became impossible to ignore.

“And if I say no?” I asked.

He looked at me steadily.

“Then we continue as we were.”

Silence.

My sister’s quiet sob.

My father’s uneven breathing.

My own thoughts spiraling.

And in that moment…

I realized the truth.

This wasn’t a choice.

It was survival.

Or losing everything.