Camila’s POV

By the time I reached my father’s office, my heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.

My footsteps echoed through the marble hallway, each one announcing my arrival. I wanted him to know I was coming. I wanted, for once, to appear brave.

At the door, I hesitated.

My hand rested on the brass doorknob. For a moment, I considered turning around and pretending I had never heard him call for me.

Then I forced myself inside.

My father sat behind his enormous wooden desk with his back to me. Empty liquor bottles crowded the surface beside scattered papers and the ashes from his cigarette. The curtains were drawn, leaving the room dim despite the late afternoon sun outside.

I stood as straight as I could.

“Did you ask for me, Father?”

He did not turn around immediately. Smoke curled through the air between us.

“You’re my youngest child,” he said at last. “My only daughter.”

I waited.

He finally turned his chair toward me. His expression was cold, almost bored, as if the decision he was about to announce had nothing to do with my life.

“You’re going to marry Dante Moretti.”

For one breath, the room went completely silent.

I had heard the name before. Everyone had.

Dante Moretti was the heir to one of the most powerful criminal syndicates in the country. In the underworld, men spoke about him carefully, as though even saying his name too loudly might summon him.

They called him the Devil.

My stomach twisted.

“Dante Moretti?” I asked, even though I knew exactly who he meant. “The Moretti family?”

My father’s mouth curved into a humorless smile. “There is only one Dante Moretti.”

I stared at him, waiting for the punch line that would never come.

“You’re arranging my marriage to a stranger?”

“You’ll meet him in a week.”

“A week?” My voice cracked. “You can’t be serious.”

His eyes hardened. “You will meet him, make a good impression, and accept the arrangement.”

“And if I don’t?”

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

My father leaned back in his chair. The low light sharpened the angles of his face, making him look more like a warning than a man.

“Then there will be consequences.”

The words settled over me like a weight.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to demand an explanation, to remind him that I was his daughter—not a bargaining chip he could trade to strengthen his position.

Instead, I lowered my eyes.

“Yes, Father.”

“Get out.”

He turned away from me before I could say anything else.

The smell of alcohol followed me as I left the office. I closed the door quietly behind me, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing it slam.

The moment I reached my room, I locked the door and collapsed onto my bed.

My body trembled beneath me.

Dante Moretti.

I knew nothing about him except what people whispered. He was ruthless. Violent. Unforgiving. Some said he had inherited his family’s empire before he was old enough to understand what it meant. Others claimed he had earned it through blood.

The rumors changed depending on who told them, but they all ended the same way.

Dante Moretti was dangerous.

What if he was cruel like my father?

What if he drank, shouted, and raised his hand whenever I disappointed him? What if I spent the rest of my life trapped beside a man who treated me like property?

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.

“Camila?”

My mother opened the door before I could answer. The moment she saw my face, her expression fell.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

She crossed the room and pulled me into her arms. I pressed my face against her shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and warm fabric.

“Father told you?” I whispered.

“He told me this afternoon.” Her voice shook. “If I had known sooner, I would have tried to stop him.”

“You couldn’t have stopped him.”

“I should have tried.”

I hugged her tighter. My mother had always been gentle, but gentleness did not survive easily in our house. Not with my father’s temper ruling every room.

“Your brothers are going to be furious,” she murmured.

“Alejandro most of all.”

She nodded.

Alejandro was my oldest brother and the one who had always fought my father the hardest. I had four other brothers after him—Gabriel, Matteo, Tomas, and Nico. We were all close in age, separated by only a year or so, and they had spent their entire lives protecting me.

My father hated that.

He had forbidden us from learning Spanish, even though it was part of our family’s heritage. He used the language when speaking to his allies and business partners, so he believed keeping it from us would prevent us from understanding his plans.

Our own culture had become another thing he controlled.

“Come downstairs,” Mom said, brushing my hair away from my face. “Dinner is ready.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat.”

She kissed my forehead before leaving the room. After a few minutes, I followed her downstairs.

My brothers were already gathered around the long dining table.

“Camila!” Nico called, jumping to his feet.

He wrapped his arms around me before stepping back and studying my face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “It was just a long day.”

None of them believed me.

Alejandro watched me from the opposite side of the table, his eyes narrowing. Gabriel stopped talking. Matteo leaned back in his chair. Tomas looked between me and Mom as if he was trying to piece together a secret.

My father entered the dining room without acknowledging any of us.

We took our seats.

For several minutes, everyone pretended the evening was normal. Plates were filled. Conversations started and died. Silverware clinked against porcelain.

Then Nico turned toward me.

“So, how was school?”

“Fine.”

My father’s stare cut across the table.

It was not a question. It was a warning.

Do not speak.

I forced a small smile. “It was boring.”

My brothers exchanged uneasy glances.

My father placed his knife beside his plate.

“I have an announcement.”

The entire table went silent.

That was one of his rules. Whenever he spoke, everyone stopped whatever they were doing and listened.

He looked at me.

“Your sister is getting married.”

Alejandro shot to his feet so fast his chair scraped violently across the floor.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Sit down,” my father ordered.

“You’re selling her to the Morettis?”

“Watch your mouth.”

“She’s eighteen!” Gabriel slammed his fist against the table. “How could you make a decision like this without asking her?”

“It was never your decision to make,” Father replied.

“She’s our sister!” Tomas shouted. “You can’t just hand her over to people we don’t know.”

“We know exactly who they are,” Alejandro said bitterly. “That’s the problem.”

Nico turned toward Mom, his face pale with disbelief.

“You knew about this?”

Mom’s lips parted, but no words came out.

The room erupted around me.

My brothers argued. My father shouted over them. Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone moved at once.

I sat frozen, my untouched food growing cold in front of me.

I wanted to tell them to stop.

I wanted to tell them I was afraid too.

But the words remained trapped inside my chest.

“Enough!”

My father’s roar shook the room.

Silence crashed down around us.

He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles whitening.

“I have made my decision. This marriage will unite two powerful families, and it will happen whether any of you approve or not.”

Alejandro’s chest rose and fell rapidly. His fists were clenched at his sides.

“This isn’t over,” he said.

My father’s gaze sharpened. “Leave.”

Alejandro shoved his chair aside and stormed from the dining room.

The others remained still.

“You be careful,” Matteo warned me quietly. “Dante Moretti is not a man you can trust.”

“I’ll be careful.”

I tried to sound calm, but my voice barely held together.

“We have training,” Tomas said after a moment. He stood and motioned toward the others. “Come on.”

Gabriel, Matteo, and Nico followed him. Before leaving, each of them stopped to touch my shoulder or kiss the top of my head.

Their affection left my hair tangled.

Despite everything, I smiled faintly.

They still treated me like a child.

When the room finally emptied, Mom remained beside me.

“Your brothers love you,” she said.

“Alejandro hates you.”

Her face crumpled.

“He couldn’t even look at me.”

“It isn’t your fault.”

“I should have protected you.”

“You tried.”

I carried my plate to the sink, but Mom followed and gently took it from my hands.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too.”

She held my face between her palms. “You’re going to be all right.”

I wanted to believe her.

“I don’t want to go.”

“You can’t stay in this house forever.”

“What about school?”

“You’ll still attend.” She hesitated. “Unless Dante says otherwise.”

The name changed her expression.

Fear flickered across her face before she quickly looked away.

Dante Moretti had a reputation that reached every corner of the underworld. People described him as merciless, unpredictable, and incapable of love.

I had never met him.

I had never heard his voice or seen his face.

Yet in seven days, I would become his wife.

And if the stories were true, I wasn’t walking toward a marriage.

I was walking straight into the Devil’s house.