You cannot escape me

Dario’s POV

The moment I stepped into the car, I knew I was already at the edge.

Not because she drank champagne. Not because she argued. But because she chose another man.

In front of everyone.

She sat beside him like she belonged there. Laughing. Smiling. Looking free.

Free.

As if she wasn’t wearing my ring.

As if she hadn’t just stood in the middle of the Nostra with me as my wife to be.

I closed the car door harder than necessary. The driver immediately pulled off without being told.

The silence lasted three seconds. Then she exploded.

“What the hell was that, Dario?!” she shouted, turning toward me. “Why did you have to smash the glass? Why did you threaten him? Gabriel did nothing to you!”

I kept my eyes forward.

“You should be thankful,” I said evenly, “that I didn’t put a bullet in his skull.”

She froze for half a second.

Then she laughed in disbelief. “You’re insane.”

“If you ever disgrace me like that again,” I continued, my voice lowering, “I will not tolerate it, Fina. I built my name from nothing. I will not have my wife humiliating me in public over childish games.”

“Childish?” she snapped. “You embarrassed me first! That woman—”

“Valentina is irrelevant.”

“She didn’t look irrelevant!”

I turned to her then.

“In just one day,” I said coldly, “you have proven to be the most stubborn woman I have ever met.”

Her eyes flashed. “Good. I’m glad you know. I’m glad you’ve seen the chaos I can bring. I’m glad you understand that I cannot be the wife you want me to be.”

Her voice broke slightly, but she pushed through it.

“So call it off. End this damn charade.”

“That,” I said immediately, “is not happening.”

She laughed again, but there was panic beneath it. “You can’t force me.”

“We are getting married,” I said, each word deliberate, “whether you like it or not.”

She shook her head, tears already forming. “You treat me like property.”

“You are about to carry my name.”

“I am human!” she shouted. “I am not a settlement. I am not some artifact you claim because you hate my father!”

The car felt smaller and hotter.

“You know nothing,” I said sharply.

“I know everything,” she fired back. “You told him he would betray you. You knew. So why didn’t you just kill us back then? Why didn’t you burn us away? Why didn’t you bomb the aircraft? Why come back and use me to settle your debt?”

Her words hit harder than they should have.

“Because,” I said finally, my voice turning colder than I intended, “why would I kill him… when I could take the most precious thing he ever had?”

Silence as she stared at me.

“So you took me.”

“Yes.”

Her tears spilled over.

“Yes, Fina,” I continued, because if I stopped now, I would soften. “I took you because I could. Because I had the power to. And because your father needed to understand that betrayal has consequences.”

She was crying openly now. Not yelling, not fighting, just crying.

“I’m twenty-one,” she whispered. “I don’t even know how to run my own life yet. I don’t know how to be someone’s wife. I don’t know how to stand beside you. I didn’t choose this.”

I didn’t answer immediately.

Because for the first time tonight, her voice didn’t sound defiant. It sounded small.

And I hated that it did something to me.

“This may not be what you want,” I said finally, quieter now. “But this was meant to be. You are making it harder by fighting it.”

She laughed weakly through tears. “You sound like this is destiny.”

“It is.”

She shook her head.

“You cannot escape me,” I continued. “It doesn’t matter how far you try to run. I have you now. And I am not letting you go.”

The driver slowed as we approached the gates.

“Clean yourself up, I don't want you falling sick before,” I said. “In a few hours, we get married.”

She looked at me like I had just stabbed her.

“I hate you,” she whispered.

I felt it. Right in the center of my chest.

But I didn’t let it show.

I scoffed lightly and looked out the window.

When we got home, she stormed out of the car before it fully stopped.

She didn’t look back.

She ran up the stairs, heels hitting marble, and slammed the bedroom door hard enough that the echo traveled through the house.

I stood there for a moment. Then I walked to the bar.

I poured scotch. And one glass became two.

I had just lifted the third when Rita, stepped quietly into the room.

“I’m guessing the evening did not go as planned,” she said gently.

I let out a humorless laugh. “What did you expect?”

“She’s young, she’s reckless, she’s only twenty-one.”

I turned to her sharply. “She should fear me. She should respect me. She should understand that this is not a game.”

The old woman, studied me for a long moment.

“You built the Rivero name with discipline,” she said calmly. “But she is not one of your soldiers.”

“She embarrassed me.”

“She is confused.”

“She drank with another man in front of me. A man she grew up with. A boy who once loved her.”

“That was years ago.”

I exhaled through my nose.

“I might hate her father,” I said after a moment. “But I do not hate her. I do not intend to harm her. But if she fights me, Rita… then I will fight back. And I will win.”

She sighed. “If you want her to bend, you must also make her feel safe. You cannot rule a wife the same way you rule a syndicate.”

Before I could respond—

A loud crash echoed from upstairs.

Glass shattering.

My body reacted before my mind did.

I ran.

The bedroom door was open.

Portrait frames were shattered across the floor — photographs of my lineage, my father, the old estate.

Water dripped onto the marble.

She stood in the middle of the room, hair soaked, dress clinging to her body, barefoot among broken glass.

A wine bottle hung loosely from her fingers.

Empty. She laughed when she saw me.

“I’m a psycho, Don Dario,” she slurred slightly. “You don’t have to marry a psycho. Look what I did. Look at the mess.”

Anger surged within me. And she felt it.

She looked fragile. Too fragile.

I stepped closer slowly. She didn’t move.

Her heart was racing. I could see it in the pulse in her neck.

I took the bottle from her hand.

“Are you going to cancel the wedding?” she asked, almost giggling. “Because I’m crazy?”

I lifted her chin with my fingers and she went still.

“No,” I said quietly. Her smile faltered.

“Yes,” I continued coldly, “you are a little psycho, Ikkohafina.”

Her brows furrowed.

“And you are the perfect one for me.” Confusion flickered in her eyes.

“I will shape you,” I said softly. “Into exactly who you are meant to be beside me.”

There was darkness in my voice. I knew it.

“And I promise you,” I added, my thumb brushing the tear off her cheek before I stepped back, “I am going to enjoy every step of it.”

She stared at me. Breathing uneven.

And for the first time since we got engaged—

She didn’t argue.