BETROTHED TO THE CRAZY DON

The Debt The rumble of the engines faded beyond the iron gates. Silence rushed in to replace it. Valentina stood in the center of the study, the yellowed contract crushed in her fist. The paper crackled under the pressure, the inked signatures creasing beneath her trembling fingers. No one moved. The scent of Alessandro De Luca's cologne still lingered in the room, mingling with cigar smoke and polished oak. Her father remained where he stood, his shoulders bowed toward the fireplace. Marco stared at the closed study door as though expecting the Don to return. The grandfather clock ticked. Valentina laughed,It was not amusement. It was disbelief, sharpened by heartbreak. "You sold me." Her voice barely rose above a whisper. Don Vittorio closed his eyes. "I didn't." She looked at him slowly. "No?" She lifted the contract between two fingers. "This says otherwise." "It isn't that simple." The words had barely left his mouth before the contract struck his chest. The

The Escape The chains rattled one final time.Then...Silence followed.Valentina stood at the study window, her fingertips pressed against the cold glass.The last glimpse of the black Rolls-Royce disappeared beyond the bend in the road.It was gone.The men it had left behind were not.Floodlights washed over the estate, turning the rain into streaks of silver. Armed guards paced along the perimeter with practiced precision, their radios crackling every few seconds.One at the east gate.Two near the front entrance.Another pair circling the gardens.Not a single Russo guard among them.She swallowed."They're replacing our security."Behind her, Vittorio lowered himself into his chair."They're protecting the agreement."She turned sharply."They're imprisoning me."He didn't argue.That hurt more than if he had.The mansion felt different by morning.The smell of fresh coffee drifted through the halls, but no one lingered in the dining room.Housemaids moved quickly, eyes fixed on

The BrideSome nights don't end,They linger In the silence between heartbeats.In the echo of footsteps that never leave,In the scent of rain that clings to stone long after the storm has passed.This was one of those nights.Sleep had stood at Valentina's bedroom door...Looked in...Then walked away.She lay on her back, eyes fixed on the ornate ceiling above her bed. Moonlight slipped through the curtains, stretching pale fingers across the room before disappearing beneath the first hints of dawn.The grandfather clock downstairs chimed tirelessly Every strike landed somewhere beneath her ribs.One day......and probably By sunset tomorrow, everything would change.She closed her eyes.Gray eyes met hers immediately."You have one day left."The words echoed through the darkness.Her eyes flew open."No.!!"The whisper disappeared into the empty room.She swung her legs over the side of the bed.The marble floor was cold enough to make her shiver.Her gaze drifted toward the window

Being Mrs Luca Silence settled over the cathedral like a shroud. Only moments ago, the sacred hall had echoed with gunfire. Now, the sharp scent of gunpowder lingered beneath the fading incense as De Luca soldiers moved through the shattered pews. One swept broken stained glass into neat piles. Another lifted an overturned chair, its legs streaked with blood. Two men carried a black body bag down the center aisle, their footsteps muffled against the marble. Beyond the towering doors, police sirens wailed, growing louder before fading again. Blue and red lights flashed through the fractured windows, yet the doors remained closed. No officer crossed the threshold. No questions were asked. Valentina stood where the vows had been spoken, her fingers trembling as they brushed the diamond resting on her left hand. The stone caught the candlelight, scattering tiny sparks across the blood-stained marble. She curled her fingers into a fist. The ring bit into her skin. It wasn't

The Scream Back at Russo Manor, nothing had felt familiar since the wedding. The silence that once settled over the estate each morning had been replaced by whispers behind closed doors, unanswered phone calls, and servants who flinched whenever the front gates creaked open. Every sunrise seemed to deliver another problem, another reminder that the peace the Russo family had fought to preserve had slipped through their fingers. Then came the scream. It ripped through the sleeping mansion without warning. Not loud enough to reach beyond the iron gates. But loud enough to wrench every soul inside from sleep. Bedroom doors flew open one after another. Housemaids hurried into the corridor, their night robes brushing against the polished marble as panic spread from face to face. A silver tray slipped from trembling hands. Porcelain shattered. The sound echoed through the grand hallway. Then the scream came again. Longer this time. Raw. Desperate. Marco bol