The Game Begins

Valentina Russo

They say the De Luca estate is built on bones.

From the outside, it looks like a palace. Golden gates. Marble staircases. A chandelier the size of a car dripping light across velvet floors. But inside? It's a labyrinth of shadows. No room without secrets. No step without danger. And no one without blood on their hands.

Especially the man I just married.

Alessandro De Luca. Cold. Controlled. A walking storm in a custom Armani suit.

He hadn’t spoken to me since the reception. Not a word during the drive to his estate. Not a glance as he held open the door. Just silence. Heavy. Judging.

Until now.

We stood in his office a cathedral of darkness, with floor to ceiling shelves filled with ancient books, framed weapons, and paintings of De Luca men, each with eyes that seemed to follow you.

He poured himself a drink. Didn't offer me one. Sipped it like it was poison he’d learned to love.

"Sit," he commanded.

I didn’t.

His eyes lifted slowly, meeting mine. A quiet fury swirled behind them.

"You don't take orders well, do you?"

"No," I said. "And I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not."

He gave a dry laugh. "That much is obvious."

I crossed my arms. "Then why keep me here? Why go through with this sham? You could have called it off."

His glass clinked onto the desk. "Because appearances matter in this world, Valentina. To the families. To my enemies. To the wolves who wait for weakness."

He walked around the desk, stalking me slowly.

"Your sister was a symbol. Quiet. Compliant. Safe. You? You're a wildcard. Unpredictable. Reckless. Dangerous."

I smiled without warmth. "Funny. I was thinking the same about you."

He stopped inches away.

"I don’t trust you."

"Then we’re even," I whispered.

His jaw clenched. "You’ll sleep in the east wing. Separate quarters. Guards posted. Don’t try to leave. And don’t think for a second that this house is your playground."

"Oh, I never play where there's blood on the walls."

He turned sharply. "Stay out of my business. Stay out of my way. And maybe you’ll survive long enough to learn what really happened to Bianca."

My heart froze. "So you believe she was taken?"

He didn’t answer.

And that silence was confirmation enough.

The east wing was a gilded cage. Beautiful but cold. The bed was massive. The windows barred. Cameras blinked red in every corner.

I didn’t sleep.

Not with that message still echoing in my mind:

Your sister is alive. But not safe. Trust no one. Not even him.

And especially not with the footsteps I kept hearing outside my door—always pacing. Waiting. Watching.

At dawn, I slipped into the hall.

Guards in black. Silent. Like statues.

I smiled sweetly. "Bathroom?"

They said nothing, just nodded down the hall.

But I turned left instead of right.

One, two, three doors. All locked.

The fourth creaked open.

An office. Not Alessandro’s.

Maps pinned to the walls. Red strings. Names scribbled on files.

Russo. De Luca. Romano. Vescari.

My blood ran cold.

Bianca’s picture was there. Crossed out in red.

Next to it? Me.

I didn't hear the footsteps until it was too late.

"Curiosity," a voice said from behind me, "is a dangerous addiction."

I spun around.

Lorenzo.

Alessandro’s cousin.

Leaning against the doorframe like he owned the night. Shirt half-unbuttoned. Tattoo of a serpent curling up his collarbone.

He smiled like the devil in disguise.

"Looking for ghosts, Mrs. De Luca?"

"Just trying to find the bathroom," I lied.

He stepped closer. "Funny. That bathroom doesn’t have pictures of missing girls and mafia bloodlines."

I didn’t respond.

He reached for a file. Flipped it open. My name. My past. My academic records. Medical files. Even a psychiatric evaluation I didn’t know existed.

"They’ve been watching you longer than you think," he murmured.

I swallowed. "Why?"

"Because power makes people paranoid. And you? You’re a threat to the illusion they’re building."

I stared at him. "Do you know what happened to Bianca?"

He shut the file. Hard.

"If I did, do you think I’d be alive right now?"

Silence stretched between us.

Then he looked at me. Really looked.

"Be careful, Valentina. Everyone in this house has a mask. And the ones who smile the most? They’re the ones who’ll slit your throat first."

He walked out.

And suddenly, I wasn’t sure if Lorenzo was a warning... or a weapon.

Later that evening, a summons came.

Dinner. With Alessandro.

No guards. No distractions. Just him and me.

I entered the dining room, nerves prickling. Candles lit. Food untouched.

He didn’t look up as I sat.

"Lorenzo says you broke into his office."

Of course he did.

"I took a wrong turn."

"He says you found the photos."

I met his eyes. "Why is mine there?"

He leaned back. "Because in this world, knowledge is ammunition. And I like to know what I’m marrying."

"So you dig through my past?"

"No. I buried your future."

I laughed. "You must be fun at parties."

His eyes darkened. "Don’t push me, Valentina."

"Why? Afraid I’ll push back?"

Silence.

Then he stood.

"War is coming," he said.

"What kind?"

He looked at me. And for the first time, I saw a flicker of something real.

Not rage. Not control.

Fear.

"The kind where no one gets out clean."

He turned and left.

And I was left staring at a table full of food.

Alone. Married. Marked.

And trapped in a house built on lies.

That night, I dreamed of Bianca.

She was running.

Blood on her hands.

A voice whispering in the dark:

**"Don’t trust the one who wants to save you." ** I woke up choking.

And someone was watching from the shadows.

Not a guard.

Not Lorenzo.

Not Alessandro.

Someone else.

And before I could scream, they were gone.

Leaving behind only a single white rose a De Luca signature.

Except this one… was soaked in blood.