CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1: Mirabella's POV 

              I hated this, I hated it all. The flashy cars, charity events, the attention, everything that hid the horrible things the Belluci family did.

I winced as the maid pulled the strings of my dress tighter, I had always been fuller, curvier, Papa hated it. It was my 21st birthday, and I couldn't help but feel like I was about to be auctioned off. 

My papa was power hungry, greedy, foul. For that, he had a lot of enemies, both within and outside the family. 

I had two older brothers, Marco and Dominic. They were as good to me as made men could be. What I wouldn't give to go back to the days we would ride our bicycles together, before my papa threw them into this cold world of blood and murder.

Admiring their hardwork, the maids walked out. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Fuck this," I muttered removing a clip from my hair, allowing the straight black hair to fall around my shoulders. I reached for my second drawer and pulled out my gun, tucking it gingerly into my purse. It was a gift I had gotten myself the moment I turned 18. 

I had never needed to use it, but Papa always said, "It’s kill or be killed.” This party could take a bad turn quickly, and I refused to be unarmed amidst the wolves.

“My sweet,” my mother’s soft voice drew my attention, and I met her gaze in the mirror as she stepped into the room. She was beautiful but wore the weight of despair like a heavy cloak. Her smile never reached her eyes, a mask she maintained to navigate this hell of a marriage.

“Mama,” I said, placing my hand on hers resting on my shoulder. I knew all too well her story, a forbidden romance ended by my father's ruthless ambition. She had loved a common man before my father claimed her and murdered him, and now, years later, I could see the guilt etched in her eyes.

My father was the underboss before he married my mother and automatically gained the right to be Don.

“Look at you, a grown woman now, principessa,” she said, her tone affectionate yet laced with caution.

“Of course, Mama,” I replied, my heart heavy with the weight of expectation.

“Sit straight, my sweet,” she reminded me, tapping my shoulder lightly. I adjusted my posture, keeping up appearances was my life. “A couple of your father's friends will be in attendance tonight,” she added softly, and I felt a knot form in my stomach. I understood the implication all too well.

“I don’t want to get married, Mama. I want to go to culinary school. I want to be a chef,” I insisted, my voice rising slightly. My eyes met her cold pair in the mirror, but I pressed on. 

“Hell will freeze over before I marry one of Papa’s friends or even worse, their sons. Being unmarried in this world is better than becoming a pawn in his game. I refuse to bring a child into this life, my life,” I said.

“Family comes first, Bella. You know this,” she chided gently, a note of sorrow in her voice. I rolled my eyes, frustration gnawing at me.

“Behave tonight. Your father won’t take kindly to rebellion,” she warned, a flicker of fear passing through her gaze. I nodded. I knew he wouldn't. Not even his children were safe from him, he was the devil himself.

Just then, someone barged in, "Mirabella. Let's go. Don is waiting," my eldest brother Marco said.

"Knock on the fucking door next time," I said, glaring at him.

"Shut the fuck up," he growled, "You're 21 now, learn to control that fucking mouth of yours." 

Mama stepped back, allowing me to rise. I collected myself, purse in hand, and strode to where Marco stood. With a flick of my wrist, I flipped my hair into his face before walking past him.

I loved my brothers, well as much as you could love people who killed other people for a living. They both did everything in their power to protect me from this world and our father. But I preferred Dominic to Marco. Marco had this darkness about him.

I arrived at my father's office and took a deep breath before knocking. Marco stood beside me shortly after.

"Come in," he said gruffly and Marco opened the door. I walked in silently and there he was behind his desk, looking so goddamn untouchable. A whore was perched on his lap, her breasts open and in his face with his tobacco pipe in one hand. How could a man be so vile?

“Dio mio, my sweet,” he rasped, eyes lingering on the woman, a smirk tugging at his lips. Marco maintained a stoic facade, but I could see the storm brewing in his eyes, anger, so much fucking anger in one man. 

“You look just like your mother did at your age,” he mused, snapping his attention back to me.

“Sit. Both of you,” he commanded, and I obeyed, though Marco remained standing, an act of rebellion that earned him an ominous chuckle from our father.

“You’re 21 now, and it’s time you fulfill your responsibility as my only daughter,” he continued, taking a puff from his pipe before blowing the smoke into the air.

“Papa-,” I began, but was swiftly silenced by Marco’s gruff voice.

"Shut the fuck up, Mirabella," Marco warned. I looked up at him but it wasn't anger in his eyes, it was fear. For me. 

“Like I said, you must fulfill your responsibility. You are beautiful and have the potential to fetch a high price,” he stated, retrieving his gun and without a moment's hesitation, he shot the woman on his lap. My heart dropped, but I forced myself to remain impassive. Weakness was a luxury I couldn’t afford in his presence.

“Can’t have her spreading family secrets, now, can we?” he remarked, nonchalant as he holstered his weapon. “Have that cleaned up,” he ordered Marco, who didn’t flinch.

Turning to me, he said once more, “Let’s go.”