Chapter 1-Serafina’s POV 

The first gunshot echoed through the marble hall like a verdict.

I didn’t flinch.

I learned long ago that flinching only amused men like him.The man on his knees collapsed forward, blood blooming across the polished floor. His body twitched once, then stilled. The smell of iron rose, thick and choking, curling into my lungs.

“Clean it,” my fiancé said calmly, lowering the gun. His voice didn’t change. It never did. The men moved immediately, dragging the corpse away as if it were trash. Someone wiped the blood before it could stain the rug imported from Italy. 

Everything in this house was expensive. Even death had rules, I stood beside him, hands folded neatly in front of me, spine straight, chin lifted perfectly.That was my role.

Luca De Santis turned his head slightly, just enough to look at me. His dark eyes skimmed over my white dress, my bare arms, the diamond ring on my finger. Possession, not affection, flickered in his gaze.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he said. I forced my lips into a soft smile. 

“I didn’t know I was expected to speak.” A few men chuckled. Luca didn’t. He liked obedience. Silence. Beauty without opinions.

“Good,” he said.

“A wife who knows when to listen lives longer.” My stomach tightened, but I nodded.

“Yes, Luca.”

That was when I felt it. Not his gaze but someone else’s. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

Matteo De Santis.

Luca’s cousin, his shadow, his weapon.

He stood near the pillars, dressed in black like the rest, hands clasped behind his back, face carved from stone. Unlike the others, his eyes weren’t on Luca.

They were on me, not hungrily, not possessively but as if he were memorizing something he was forbidden to touch.

Our eyes met.

For a fraction of a second, the world narrowed to that single, dangerous thread.

Then Matteo looked away. My pulse stumbled.

“Take her upstairs,” Luca ordered suddenly. “I have business to finish.”

My body reacted before my mind did. I turned, waiting for one of the guards.

Instead, Matteo stepped forward. “I’ll escort her.” The room went still.

Luca studied him, slow and assessing, like a predator deciding whether another predator was still useful.

“Very well,” Luca said. “Make sure nothing happens to what belongs to me.” The words landed like chains around my wrists.

Matteo inclined his head. “Of course.” He didn’t touch me as we walked. He never did. Not even by accident.

The hallway felt longer than usual, my heels echoing too loudly against the floor. My skin burned with awareness of the blood downstairs, of the ring on my finger, of the man walking half a step behind me.

When we reached the stairs, Matteo spoke for the first time. “You shouldn’t have been there tonight.”

I stopped.Slowly, I turned to face him.

“And miss my reminder of what happens to disobedient people?”

His jaw tightened. “You don’t belong in rooms like that.”

I laughed softly, the sound brittle. “I belong exactly where Luca puts me.”

His eyes darkened. “That doesn’t mean it’s right.”

The words shouldn’t have mattered. They did. I took a step too close. I could smell gun oil and something clean beneath it. 

His breath hitched, barely, but I noticed.

Danger thrummed between us, alive and electric.

“If you say things like that,” I whispered, “someone will hear.”

“I know,” he replied.

“Then why say them?”

His gaze dropped to my ring, then lifted back to my eyes.

“Because someone should.”

For the first time since my engagement was announced, something unfamiliar stirred in my chest. Hope. And just as quickly fear. Because in this house, hope was a death sentence.

And loving Matteo De Santis?That would be treason.

The silence after his words pressed heavily against my chest. Because someone should.

I turned away from Matteo before my face betrayed me. I resumed walking, slower now, every step measured, as if I were afraid the wrong pace might draw Luca’s attention from downstairs. 

The mansion seemed to listen, walls breathing, cameras blinking, shadows stretching like spies.

Matteo followed at the same distance, respectful, controlled. Too controlled.

I reached my bedroom door and paused, fingers curling around the cold brass handle. This room was lavish silk curtains, gold accents, a bed large enough to swallow me whole but it had never felt like mine. It was another cage, just prettier than the rest.

“You should go,” I said softly. “If Luca comes up and sees you here—”

“He won’t,” Matteo replied.

The certainty in his tone startled me.

I looked back at him. “You sound very sure.”

“I know his patterns,” he said. “He’ll be in the study for at least another hour. Maybe two.”

“And if he changes his mind?” His gaze flickered, sharp and unreadable. “Then I’ll handle it.”

The words were dangerous. Not because of what they promised but because of what they implied.

I swallowed and opened the door. The room greeted me with artificial warmth. 

Lamps glowed softly, bathing everything in honeyed light. On the vanity sat the jewelry Luca had gifted me last week diamonds arranged like trophies. 

Proof of ownership and intent. I stepped inside, and Matteo remained at the threshold.He never crossed it, that was his line. One he never stepped over.

“I didn’t thank you,” I said suddenly.

“For what?”

“For earlier,” I replied. “For escorting me. You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did.”

I turned fully now. “Why?”

The question hung between us, fragile and exposed. Matteo hesitated. In all the months I had known him, I had never seen him hesitate.

“Because,” he said slowly, “this house eats people alive. And you—” He stopped himself.

“And I what?” I pressed, heart thudding.

He exhaled, jaw tightening. 

“You don’t belong to it.”

A bitter smile curved my lips. “That’s not what the ring says.”

His eyes dropped again, briefly, to my hand.“I know,” he said. The ache in his voice was subtle, but it reached deep.

Before I could stop myself, I asked, “Why do you stay, Matteo?” The air shifted, that was not a safe question.

“Because leaving isn’t always freedom,” he answered quietly. “Sometimes it’s just another kind of death.”

I absorbed that, nodding slowly. It sounded like something learned the hard way.

Downstairs, a door slammed. Voices rose faintly. Both of us stiffened.

“That’s my cue,” Matteo said.

He stepped back, already retreating into the shadows. Before he disappeared, he added, “Lock your door tonight.”

“I always do.”

“Not just the door,” he said. “Your windows. And don’t drink anything you didn’t pour yourself.”

Fear crept up my spine. “Is something going to happen?”

His eyes held mine, intense now. Protective. “In this house,” he said, “something is always happening.”

Then he was gone.

I closed the door slowly and leaned my forehead against the wood, breathing hard. My reflection stared back at me from the mirror, perfect hair, flawless makeup, a future written in blood-red ink. Luca’s future.

But for the first time since the engagement was announced, a crack had formed in that fate. And through it, something dangerous had slipped in. Hope.

I slid the ring off my finger and placed it on the vanity. It landed with a soft clink, far too quiet for something that had sealed my fate. I stared at it, my pulse thundering in my ears.

Somewhere downstairs, Luca De Santis laughed. The sound carried through the vents, smooth and indulgent like he hadn’t just ordered a man’s death an hour ago.

Like he hadn’t already decided mine.

My phone vibrated suddenly on the vanity.

I froze. No one contacted me directly. Ever. With shaking fingers, I picked it up.

Unknown Number.

A single message glowed on the screen.

You shouldn’t have stood so close to him.

Cold rushed through my veins.

Before I could react, another message appe

ared.

If you want him to live, you’ll remember who you belong to.

The screen went dark.

And from the hallway outside my door—

I heard footsteps stop.