Amara thought her life couldn't get worse, trapped in poverty, caring for her ailing grandmother, betrayed by the man she loved. But one night changes everything: a police raid lands her in jail, where she meets the last man she should ever cross paths with…. Alessandro Vitale, the ruthless Mafia boss feared across Italy. He offers her freedom, but at a price: Marriage. A deal, a trap, and a lifeline all at once. What Alessandro doesn't know is that Amara carries a secret… a child that belongs not to him, but to his own bloodlines' rival. Their dangerous union sparks a web of betrayal, obsession, and power struggles, where love is both their greatest weapon and their deepest weakness. As past feuds resurface and enemies circle closer, Amara must decline: will she remain a pawn in the Mafia’s deadly game, or rise as the unexpected queen of an empire built in blood.
View MoreAmara’s POV
“If Marco loved me, this test would change everything. But if I had misjudged him… then one pink line might ruin both our lives.” “Tell me, Amara, tell me, tell me!” Emma’s excitement spilled over her words, her voice higher than usual. My hands trembled as I placed the pregnancy test kit on the table. “I don’t know what it says. You check. I’ve never used one before.” Emma didn't need more encouragement. She slid into my spot, taking the kit with eager fingers. I stepped aside, heart hammering. Emma’s mother was a nurse, and Emma had practically grown up in the hospital halls. If anyone could read it right, it was her. But then…. Silent. Emma’s eyes lingered on the test, unreadable. “Don’t go quite on me,” I urged, voice sharp with nerves. “What does it say?” She looked at me, then grinned so wide it nearly split her face. “We’re having little Marco.… and I’m going to be an aunt!” she shrieked. “Shhh!” I slapped a hand over her mouth before she woke my Nonna. My grandmother would never understand our English chatter, but still, her frail body needed rest, not chaos. Excitement and fear watered inside me. I managed a shaky whisper. “So…. What do we do now?” “What do you mean?” Emma tilted her head, her eyes sparkling. “You tell Marco, of course. Then we can start planning the wedding.” Her words should have filled me with warmth, but instead, I whispered, almost to myself, “A wedding. Yes…. That’s how it’s supposed to be.” Emma squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t overthink. Just tell him.” I didn't even wait to say goodbye. My legs carried me straight to Marco’s apartment, excitement overriding reason. We hadn't spoken much about marriage yet, but Marco loved me. He would want this too. Or so I thought. When I reached his door, I hesitated, hand on the handle. That's when I heard it…. The unmistakable sound of a woman’s voice. “So when do you plan on ending it with that dirty girl?” My breath stilled. Marco’s voice came next. “Which girl? I don't know what you're talking about.” “Don’t play dumb. You know I mean Amara. I kept fucking you while you play house with her.” I froze. “You don't have to worry,” Marco said smoothly. “Amara and I…. It’s nothing serious. Just a fling.” The words slammed into me—just a fling. The stranger pressed further. “And what if this fling leads to pregnancy?” Marco laughed. Laughed. “Pregnancy? That would never happen. And even if it did….. I’d never marry someone like Amara. She doesn't fit my status. I need someone like you.” His voice dipped lower, followed by the wet sound of a kiss. The weight of my hand on the door handle suddenly became unbearable. My chest burned. My legs refused to move. He wasn't my boyfriend. He wasn't my future. I was just a joke to him. I ran before my sobs betrayed me, the night air cutting into my skin as hard as his words. But where could I go? Nonna was waiting in our tiny apartment. I couldn't raise a child there. I couldn't even afford her medicine. I pressed my palm to my mouth, mugging a sob. Emma’s words from earlier echoed cruelly: “If Marco truly loves you, he’ll stay. If he doesn't….you’ll finally know the truth,” Truth. A blade sharper than any knife. I thought of Nonna—my grandmother——her mind slipping further each day, forgetting my name, mistaking me for a stranger. Of the job I’d lost two weeks ago, the bills were piling higher than hope. Of Marco, who had sworn to build a future with me. Every memory was a thread fraying at the edges. I walked blindly until neon lights and the stale stench of alcohol pulled me into a bar. Men turned their heads as I entered, their gazes sharp, unwelcoming. No other women. The bartender was a man, too. I sat anyway. I needed to drown Marco’s betrayal, if only for a moment. “Beer,” I muttered, my voice breaking. When my phone rang, every eye snapped towards me. I turned my face away, clutching the phone like a lifeline. It was Emma. “ Amara….. Please get here now. Your Nonna tried to get up. She fell. They've admitted her, but won’t treat her until your debt is paid. I’m begging them, but they won't listen. Please, come quickly.” My stomach dropped. My breath caught. Nonna….my only family, my reason for surviving. I shoved back from the counter, ready to run….when gunfire cracked the air. One shot. Then another. Chaos erupted. The men who’d been watching me scattered instantly. Chairs overturned. The bartender vanished. My heart stopped as police sirens wailed outside. Before I could move, rough hands yanked me back. Cold metal cuffs snapped around my wrists. “Anything you say can and will be used against you.” “No….. You don't understand!” I tried to protest, but the officers shoved me forward. At the station, they herded me with the others. My mind was spinning….pregnancy, betrayal, Nonna, prison bars. My world was collapsing. And then…. A voice boomed, commanding, the impossible to ignore. “ Get me my lawyer. Now. Do you know who I am?” The guards tried to quiet him. He refused. I turned towards the sound. “And then our eyes met. Cold. Commanding. Dangerous. The man whose name was whispered with fear across Italy. The infamous Alessandro Vitale….the last man I should ever cross paths with…was staring directly at me.”Victor’s POVThis was the kind of drama I usually enjoyed—except when it cut against me. After Don Francesco dropped his bomb, the room froze. The silence was heavy, the air thick with an unspoken shift. Everyone waited to see if Alessandro would dare defy the eldest voice of La Camorra Nera. My father had always wanted me betrothed to Ginevra. But Don Francesco rejected us outright, insisting his daughter be tied to Don Vitale’s eldest son instead. Alessandro. Even if Alessandro had been taken, Francesco would have preferred her to his half-brother—seven years younger than Ginevra—rather than me. That was how deep his contempt for my father and me ran. For us. For our bloodline. So when Alessandro married another woman, I thought my chance had come. Finally, Ginevra could be mine. I had wanted her for myself since we were young. But once again the elders tightened their grip, ruining what should have been my fortune. And now—this? To hear Don Francesco suggest Alessandro cast asi
Ginevra’s POV Don Francesco sat right in his chair, fury radiating off him like heat from a furnace. I stood beside him, my body taut with fear, while opposite us sat Don Vittorio with his son, Victor—both too eager to enjoy my humiliation. “Father, why didn’t you tell me you were coming earlier?” I asked softly, my voice trembling. The only reply was the sharp crack of his hand across my cheek. My head snapped to the side. “I wonder when you will stop disgracing me,” Don Francesco hissed. “Do you wish me to linger only to hear more of your foolishness?” “I’m sorry, Father,” I stammered. “I couldn't stop the wedding. At first I thought it was a jest—that’s why I did nothing.” His eyes blazed. “You mean to tell me that your betrothed married another woman, and you thought it was a joke?” Don Vittorio chuckled, voice dripping with mockery. “I begged you to allow Ginevra to be betrothed to my son instead, but you refused. You wanted a Vitale. And not the easy one, but the
Alessandeo’s POV She emerged from her room, and for a fleeting moment, my breath caught. That dress—silk that clung to her curves, the necklines drawing attention in ways she did not intend—fit her more perfectly than I had imagined. I wanted to tell her, to let the words slip past the wall I kept between us. But I bit them back. It was Elena who had been tasked with arranging Amara’s wardrobe before the marriage, drawing only from imagination since she had never seen her. Somehow, she had guessed correctly. “Since you are ready.” I said evenly, adjusting the cuff of my shirt, “and I will be passing by your Nonna’s house, so I will come with you. I may as well say hello. I didn't wait for her reply. My stride was measured, deliberate, and I heard her quick steps behind me as she rushed to keep pace. Damian poked the backseat door for me first, then hers. She slipped in beside me silent. The drive was cloaked in quiet. No words, just the faint hum of the engine and the s
Amara’s POV The echo of Alessandro’s cold dismissal still clung to me long after he left the dining room. His voice—so measured, so final—kept replaying in my head. Nothing happened. Nothing will happen again. Nothing. I had swallowed the word down, but it burned inside me. And that oh one call—Don Francisco. The way Alessandro had moved so quickly, as if the entire evening could be brushed aside because someone more important had claimed his attention. I went to my room, forced myself into sleep, though it was a restless one. A knock woke me. “Signora, are you awake? May I come in?” It was Elena. I opened my eyes and sat up, blinking. She stepped in smiling, almost bubbling. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I didn’t mean to… I’m just excited to see you, that’s all.” “No, it’s okay,” I lied, even though my head still felt heavy. “So—why did you come?” “I wanted to check if you need anything,” she said, smiling in that way of hers—half formal, half familiar. We weren’t
Alessadro’s POV The table was cleared, but I remained seated, my glass untouched. The silnce between us had thickened until even the servants moved more quietly, sensing the tension that clung to the air. Amara shifted slightly, as though she might speak, but I count in first. I cleared my throat, measured. “About last night.” Her eyes flickered up to mine, cautious, waiting. “I did not plan for it to happen. And I’m certain you feel the same.” My tone was flat, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “So I want you to treat it as nothing. Nothing happened, and nothing will happen again. That much, I promise you.” Her lips parted, as though she wanted to object, but I pressed on. “Your room,” I continued, my gaze steady on her. “It is not only for the day. From now on, you will sleep there at night as well. Do not concern yourself with me.”The faintest crease appeared between her brows, but she held her tongue. “And if you read the marriage contract carefully, you’ll have noti
Amara’s POVDinner felt like another ritual in this house, another test I wasn't warned about. The table stretched longer than anything I’d ever eaten at before, polished wood glowing under a chandelier so bright it made my head ache. Silverware gleamed, untouched, as maids glided back and forth with dishes I couldn't name. The silence stretched longer than the table between us. And at the far end sat Alessandro. He had taken his place at the head, glass in hand, eyes unreadable, and in that silence, I felt a weight more deliberate than words. A test. He wanted to see what I would do with it—whether I would squirm, break, or try to fill in with nervous chatter. He hadn’t said a word to me since he sat. His posture was impeccable, back straight, jaw set, every movement measured. He could have been carved from marble—if marble carried the weight of centuries of violence behind its stillness. My fork trembled slightly as I lifted it. I forced the motion steadily, telling myself I w
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