LOGINLena never thought her life would be tied to a man like Niccolò. A powerful mafia figure who buys her into a contract marriage she never agreed to, claiming it’s the only way to uncover the truth about her mother’s mysterious death. But the deeper she goes into his world, the more she realizes nothing about him is simple—cold one moment, unsettlingly gentle the next. She also begins to notice something off… the way he doesn’t always respond. In a city where surveillance, power, and corruption rule everything, she discovers he is hiding a secret far more dangerous than she expected. And love might be the most dangerous trap of all.
View More~~LENA~~
I knew something was wrong the moment I pushed the door open.
“Lena!”
My stepmother’s voice sliced through the silence from the kitchen.
I dropped my bag near the door and walked in slowly. The acrid smell of burnt stew hung thick in the air.
“I just got back,” I said carefully.
She turned to face me, arms folded tight across her chest like she had been waiting for this fight all day.
“And the chores I told you to finish this morning?”
I paused. I had woken up early, cleaned the living room, washed the dishes, and swept the floor before leaving. So what exactly was she talking about?
“I did them before I left.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“No. I’m just saying that I did them before I—”
Before I could finish, her hand shot out, slapping me across the cheek. The sting made my head spin.
She grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me toward the sink, slamming my face into the pile of wet dishes. Soapy water flooded my mouth and nose.
I gasped and choked, lungs burning as I clawed desperately at the edge of the counter.
“Maybe this will teach you some sense!” she hissed.
She shoved harder. My nose slammed into the faucet,and a sharp pain exploded behind my eyes.
“You useless girl,” she snapped. “Living in this house and you can’t even do one simple thing right.”
When she finally released me, I stumbled back, water dripped from my hair.
“No wonder your real mother abandoned you,” she spat. “Even she couldn’t stand the sight of you.”
I froze. “Don’t call my mother—”
Her lips curled into a vicious smile. “What did you just say?”
“You don’t get to bring her into this.”
“Oh… you’ve grown some teeth.” She seized my arm, nails digging in like claws. “Basement. Now.”
“No—” Panic clawed up my throat. “No, no, no… please. I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean it. I’ll do whatever you want, just not the basement. Please.”
My voice cracked as I tried to pull away, but her grip only tightened.
“Too late for apologies,” she said coldly, dragging me toward the stairs.
“Ma’am, please—”
“What’s all this noise about?”
My father’s voice cut through the hallway.
She froze for a split second. Then, like someone flipping a switch, her grip loosened and her face transformed into wounded innocence. She stepped back and pressed a hand dramatically to her chest.
“I was only trying to correct her,” she said softly. “But she started shouting at me… calling me names.”
I stared at her, stunned. The same woman who had just shoved me now looked like the victim.
My father’s gaze snapped to me, dark with irritation. “Is that true?”
“No—” My voice shook. “She was dragging me to the basement. I didn’t even—”
“Enough.” His tone was sharp and final. The single word cut straight through me.
“You will not raise your voice in this house,” he said coldly. “Especially not to your mother.”
“She’s lying,” I whispered, desperation tightening my throat.
His jaw clenched. “Not another word, Lena. Now go upstairs.”
I stood frozen for a moment, fingers curling hard at my sides.
Arguing never helped.
It only made everything worse. Because deep down I knew the truth: Father had heard every word.
He had simply chosen not to care.
Slowly, I turned and walked toward the stairs, each step heavy on the wooden floor.
Behind me, my stepmother gave a soft, pitiful sniff, playing the victim perfectly.
She had won. Again.
—
Sleep refused to come that night. My cheek still burned where she had hit me, and every time I closed my eyes the scene replayed in vicious detail.
Thirst eventually dragged me out of bed hours later. The house lay silent, faint moonlight spilling through the hallway windows as I padded quietly toward the kitchen for a glass of water.
On my way back, hushed voices drifted from the living room.
“…we’ll all die if you don’t do this,” my stepmother whispered.
My feet rooted to the floor.
“Do you want us to die? I’m pregnant, for God’s sake. Think about the baby. All you have to do is give her to him.”
My chest squeezed tight. A long silence followed before my father spoke, his voice rough.
“He’s a killer. No matter what you say, I can’t sell my daughter to a mafia boss who murders people for fun.”
My stomach dropped.
Mafia?
“No, no, don’t call it that,” my stepmother said quickly. “You’re not selling her. You’re just… letting him have her for a little while.”
Her voice softened. “We’ll get her back once the debts are settled.”
I stood pressed against the wall, the weight of their words crushing my ribs.
“So what do you say?” she pressed. “Have you made your choice? Are you giving her to him?”
The silence stretched unbearably. My heart hammered so loudly I was terrified they would hear it.
Of course he won’t. He doesn’t hate me… right?
Say no. Please, Dad. Say no.
Finally, my father spoke, defeat heavy in every syllable. “Yes.”
The glass slipped from my numb fingers and shattered on the tile. Chairs scraped loudly in the dining room.
“Did you hear that?” my stepmother whispered.
The kitchen door swung open. My father stepped out first. His eyes dropped to the broken glass, then slowly rose to meet mine.
“You were listening?” he asked quietly.
“Dad…” My voice trembled. “You were really going to sell me?”
My stepmother sighed dramatically behind him. “Oh Lena, must you always be so dramatic?”
My father ran a hand over his face, exhausted. “It’s not like that, sweetheart.”
“You said yes.”
“Listen to me,” he said gently, stepping closer. “We had no choice. He’ll kill us—all of us—if we don’t pay. This is the only way to protect the family.”
My stepmother nodded, eyes solemn. “He won’t hurt you. It’s only temporary. We’ll bring you back once everything is settled.”
Temporary.
Like I was some object being loaned out. My nails dug hard into my palms.
“Please understand,” he continued. “This is the only way to protect this family.”
I looked between them—my father, the man who was supposed to protect me, and the woman standing beside him like a fragile saint.
Slowly, I nodded. “Okay then.”
Both of them froze.
“You understand?” my father asked.
“Yes.”
But inside my head, one thought screamed louder than everything else.
Run.
The next morning I couldn’t keep the thoughts out of my head. Bianca didn’t feel just like a guest anymore.. She felt like something placed inside the house on purpose.Whqt could be her plan? Does she want to… kill me?I shook my head quickly, cutting the thought off before it could finish.I stepped into the lounge area and saw Yuki.He sat slumped in an armchair, one leg stretched out, the other bent awkwardly. His injured hand rested on a low table, wrapped in fresh bandages that already looked slightly rumpled. He was scowling at a small bottle, trying to twist the cap off with his good hand and teeth.I hesitated for a moment longer than I should have. “Need help?”He startled slightly, then relaxed when he saw it was me. A half-smile tugged at his mouth. “Nah, I got it. Occupational hazard of being a guard who trips over his own dramatic entrance.”I walked over anyway, taking the bottle from him before he could argue. The cap was hard to open, and his fingers were shaking a l
~~LENA~~ Niccolò had told me to stay inside, but I couldn’t. This room was suffocating. I needed to leave and breathe fresh air. I stood there for a moment, staring at the walls hoping it'd help change my mind. Maybe I could go look at the flowers. I wish I could. But nobody even needed to tell me not to. I was scared enough on my own. I had the bruise on my wrist and the image of Yuki on the ground permanently installed in my brain to remind me exactly how real it had been. I wasn't stupid enough to go outside. I wasn't going anywhere near a window that faced the east fence. Not at all. What I needed to do was move. Five minutes. Water, short walk, back before anyone notices. Nico definitely wouldn’t find out. The mansion was quiet than usual at this hour, though I could hear the distant sounds of guards doing their rounds somewhere below. When I finally turned back, I slowed and kept my eyes
The door to Lena's room clicked shut behind me. I stood in the corridor for a moment, letting the silence of the upper level settle around me. Then I turned and walked. Matteo was already there when I reached the top of the main staircase, moving up from the lower level. “Full report,” I said. He walked half a step behind me, tablet glowing in his grip as he spoke without slowing down. “Perimeter breach on the east garden wall. They cut through a blind spot in the camera coverage—old wiring issue we missed in last month's audit." His voice was steady. “Two guards at the outer entrance are dead. Throats slit clean. Another three in the garden vicinity injured… two with stab wounds, one unconscious from a blow to the head... they were spread too thin on that shift. The intruder made it all the way to the central hedges before engaging Lena.” “Yuki?” I asked. “Deep laceration on the hand from the stone border. The Doc stitched him up. He'll lose some mobility short-term but
~~NICCOLÒ~~ I was meant to be at Carlo's office by ten. Instead I was here, pushing everything aside. The private shooting range sat far outside the city limits, hidden behind old concrete walls and empty land where nobody complained about gunfire. It was built for men like me who needed privacy to work through their demons. To hell with my ears. To hell with the pain. To hell with all of it. I raised the gun and fired. The first shot hit dead center. The second. The third. My stance was pure muscle memory, honed by years of relentless practice. I worked through the target, making micro adjustments, grip firm despite the growing pressure in my head. Fourth shot. Clean. Fifth. Sixth. The seventh shot left the barrel, and something went wrong in my left ear that had nothing to do with the shot. A sharp, high-pitched ring tore through everything, drowni
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