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Prisoner To The Mafia King
Prisoner To The Mafia King
مؤلف: Author Hazel Blue

Chapter One

last update تاريخ النشر: 2026-07-14 17:22:26

Lucia's POV

I stood in front of the full-length mirror, my wedding dress pooling around my feet. My lips curved into the smallest smile.

I looked so beautiful.

My chestnut-brown hair in soft curls fell around my back, the strands loosely braided together and pinned up with delicate pearl beads incorporated into the arrangement.

A cathedral veil, sheer, cascaded down my back. The dress was skin-tight from my waist before it was layered into miles of Satin and Lace.

The gown sported a sweetheart neckline embroidered with minute crystals that glittered with every move, and the long lace sleeves fit snugly like a second skin.

For the first time in a long time, I actually felt happy.

This was not just my wedding; this was the alliance between the Morettis and the Romano family.

After six months, I was getting married to Adrian Moretti.

Maybe this will be my chance to leave my past behind.

As I turned around, the door of the dressing room swung open, and my mother sauntered in.

Lines were beginning to etch across her face, a problem that annoyed her more than anyone else in the world. Her hazel eyes, piercing as they are, took a quick glance at me before she gave a stiff nod.

“Presentable,” she said, and my smile returned to my lips, a little wider this time.

She walked closer to me and tidied up my veil, which rested on my shoulder.

“Now listen closely, Lucia.” I nodded in response to her command.

“Once you are married, your husband comes first before yourself or anyone. He is everything to you; his word is law.”

She looked me straight in the eyes.

“A man's pride is more important than a woman's happiness. Never question his words, and do not humiliate him.

“If he becomes agitated, apologize. If he gives an order, you obey.”

Her voice was steady, devoid of emotion.

“Your role as a wife in this marriage is to support your husband. Men lead, and women follow. That's how power works.”

I nodded.

“And you know the purest way for a man to show love is by—”

“Hitting me hard till my body is bruised, mother.”

She smiled before she continued.

“When your husband seeks pleasure outside, know it is normal because you will always be the wife, the one with the ring; that's what makes you more special than the women he sleeps with outside.

“That's how his love is shown in another way, and you will be devoted only to him, Lucia.” She said,

“I know, mother, and thank you for reminding me one last time.”

“Very good,” and with that, she turned and was out of my dressing room, and just as she left, the silence descended.

I looked back at my reflection in the mirror and for a second I thought I felt a stranger watching me.

My heart tripped as I spun around, but there was no one. The room was vacant, but the presence I felt was way too familiar.

A slow, drawn-out breath fell from my lips.

I am just imagining things, I told myself silently. I shook my head as I tried to banish all thoughts from my past and today.

I faced my reflection once again. I adjusted my smile until it was how Adrian likes them.

He taught me how to perfect my smile. My smile should be an average of forty degrees from the horizontal plane.

It took me three months to perfect it.

The door burst open again, making me turn around again as my father stood in the room with my niece, who was my flower girl, and bridesmaids who were Adrian's sisters, trailing behind him.

“It's time.”

My smile became wider as I nodded.

My hand found my father's arm.

“Do not embarrass me today, Lucia,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I will not, Father,” I said softly, but he did not reply.

Together, we walked out of the bridal suite.

The wedding was at the Moretti Estate Cathedral, a stunning private chapel on the Moretti Estate property.

The entire setup was just as Adrian likes it – white roses lined the aisle, chandeliers lit the room, and a quiet quartet played softly to fill the atmosphere.

The massive doors swung open; all the guests stood in unison.

My father led me down the aisle. I managed to keep my perfect smile on my face as I looked ahead to the altar.

Adrian was at the altar in his tailored black tuxedo.

But he didn't look happy at all. In fact, he looked mad, extremely mad.

“What the hell did you do, Lucia?” My father whispered in my ear as we passed some of the guests without turning.

“I… I don't know.”

“Useless,” he clicked his tongue before continuing down the aisle.

Upon reaching the altar, he placed my hand into Adrian's. His hand felt cold against mine, an uncomfortably tight squeeze.

I looked at him, confused. What had happened? Had I done something wrong?

I'll ask him later, I reassured myself.

The officiant cleared his throat. “We are gathered here today to witness the holy union of Adrian Moretti and Lucia Romano–”

“Skip the trash speech,” Adrian interrupted impatiently. “ I have more important things to do.”

The officiant quickly swallowed. “Of course.” He fumbled and opened his book.

“Adrian Moretti, do you take Lucia Romano to be your lawful wife, to stand beside her in prosperity and hardship, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

“And Lucia Romano, do you take Adrian Moretti to be your lawful husband, to love, honor, and cherish him for the rest of your life?”

“I do.”

Adrian and I exchanged our rings.

The officiant smiled awkwardly. “By the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Adrian took a step towards me and lifted his hand towards my cheek. Just as his lips touched mine–

BANG.

A shot rang out through the chapel. Warm liquid splashed on my face.

Adrian's body suddenly felt stiff, and for a moment, everything stopped. Then Adrian's eyes went blank, and his body hit the white marble floor with a sickening thud.

Screams erupted from all over the chapel, but I stood completely paralyzed on the altar, unable to move, unable to breathe, only able to stare at Adrian's dead body, until a cold, familiar voice echoed through the silence.

“Congratulations on your wedding, Lucia.”

My head immediately turned towards the source of the voice, and my eyes widened.

I could not believe who was standing there.

“Damien.”

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  • Prisoner To The Mafia King   Chapter Forty-seven

    Damien’s POVI returned to the mansion and made my way straight to my office.I had barely reached the door when Primo appeared out of nowhere.“Where did you go?” He asked.I pushed open the door and stepped inside without replying. He followed me in, closing the door behind him.“Do I need to report my whereabouts to you now?” I asked, taking my seat.“Yes, you fucking do.” His words came out sharper than usual. “And you think it’s smart to walk out of this house without a bodyguard after we’ve gotten some evidence that Giovanni is trying to kill you? Just because he’s not able to kill you now doesn’t mean he won’t find another way, Damien.”I looked at Primo for a moment before leaning back in the chair. Then I nodded.There was no use in arguing with Primo because it was pointless. Once he made up his mind he was right about a subject, he could go on and on until the walls of the room were convinced as well.Besides, he wasn’t entirely wrong.“Why are you here?”“Couldn’t find anyt

  • Prisoner To The Mafia King   Chapter Forty-six

    Damien’s POVI had seen love dismantle men who were tougher than both of us. I had seen mighty men lay down their weapons on their enemies because they couldn’t bear to hurt the women they loved.Just like my father and me, we were both foolishly in love with someone. My father loved my mother with all he had, and he became less ruthless when he met my mother. He gave up a lot for her, and my grandfather nearly killed him.That was the first crack in our family. Even though my father was the most ruthless man, he had his weakness, and he failed to show the world how madly in love he was with my mother.And I, I fell in love and got everyone I care about dead.Love made men careless, and it made them predictable. It provided enemies with the formula for its destruction, and that’s what happened to my father and me.And now, Primo and Tiberio. Primo was the kind of fool who would walk into a burning building if Tiberio were trapped inside. He would sacrifice his position, his safety, and

  • Prisoner To The Mafia King   Chapter Forty-five

    Damien’s POVThe last time I’d been to this place was the night my parents were killed—eight god-damned years since I was last in the underground chamber far away from where I lived.This was the only place that didn’t catch fire when the mansion burned to ashes, and it was the same route I escaped with Primo and Tiberio.After my parents’ and siblings’ deaths, I had ordered most underground facilities sealed, especially this one because it was the most painful part of my life.I couldn’t care less about the ghost of my youth. However, some areas were just too valuable to wipe out, and orders were simply too lethal to be left alive.The iron door squealed as I entered. The air reeked of dust, burnt metal and stale cigars. The walk had no color; ceiling lights hung low, casting an even gloom across the king table in the centre of the room.Nothing had changed, not even the bloodstains below the old drainage grate.Then a familiar voice broke the silence. “You finally came to see me.”I

  • Prisoner To The Mafia King   Forty-four

    Lucia’s POVIn the silence of the basement, I had learned the only rule that mattered: I was nothing. I didn’t breathe, move, or think without Giovanni’s permission. I was a dog. A pet. A thing.Then, the screech of the iron door. Light flooded the basement. I flinched and turned my face away, squeezing my eyes shut as the brightness burned them. I had been in darkness for so long that even the small amount of light felt unbearable.I winced, shielding my eyes as the silhouette of Giovanni stepped inside. He didn’t speak at first. He simply walked towards me and kicked the chain attached to my ankle, the metal clanking harshly against the floor.I didn’t move at all. I stayed curled in a fetal position, shivering, staring at the floor. He hadn’t told me to get up. To move, to work out a command, was to invite another blow.A few seconds passed, then he laughed.“Look at you.” His voice was almost affectionate; that was what made it so horrible. He could look at the bruises he had put o

  • Prisoner To The Mafia King   Chapter Forty-three

    Lucia’s POVThe last time I saw the sun was three days ago, or perhaps it had been longer.I didn’t know anymore because time had become meaningless in the darkness. There was no window, no clock, and no sound to tell whether it was morning or night.There was only the cold floor beneath me, the metal walls surrounding me, and the heavy iron chain attached to my ankle.The darkness wasn’t just an absence of light; it was a physical weight. I am existing in a void.The basement was empty, not a single piece of furniture or even a mattress. The metal walls of the basement were freezing, leaching the warmth from my skin until I felt like a piece of ice left to melt on a concrete slab.The iron chain biting into my wrist on the cold ground was my only companion.Oftentimes, I’d question myself whether Giovanni had forgotten I was down here.He simply didn’t care. Three days ago, after he had finished fucking me and using my body, I had made the mistake of trying to get up and wash myself.

  • Prisoner To The Mafia King   Chapter Forty-two

    Damien’s POVI delicately eased myself back into my chair. This was no longer a simple investigation; this was something much bigger and more complex.If Eleanor had been Giovanni’s mother, then Giovanni’s entire identity had been constructed around a secret.But why? Who was his father? And why had someone gone to such extreme lengths to erase him?I rubbed my jaw.“Let’s assume this is the case and that Eleanor is Giovanni’s mother, and she married an Italian man and that she gave birth to Giovanni…” I looked at Primo.“How the hell did Giovanni develop such a strong relationship with the Russians?”Primo didn’t answer immediately, and I continued. “They have hated the Italians for years.”“And they still do,’ Primo said.“Exactly, my point.” I stood again. “So why would they trust Giovanni?” I began pacing. “Why would the Russians listen to him? Why would they allow him to negotiate on their behalf? Why would they change their demands the moment he speaks? Why would they give him ac

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