All Chapters of Bethroted To The Mafia Boss: Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

‎‎Victor’s POV‎My world ended nine years ago.‎Sometimes I still feel it....the exact moment everything split in two. Before… and after.‎Before, I had a family. Friends. Laughter in the house.‎It started as a simple land dispute. But it ended with my parents dead… and a third body burnt beyond recognition in the ruins of our home.‎I remember standing there as a boy, my fists clenched so tightly my nails cut into my palms. The air smelled like ash and melted metal. Men spoke around me, voices low and cautious, but all I could hear was the roar of the fire replaying in my head.‎Till today, no one knows who that third body belonged to.‎I’ve spent years searching. Pulling strings. Paying people. Threatening others.‎Nothing.‎The body was destroyed beyond recognition....as if someone wanted it that way.‎After my parents died, my grandfather took me in. He didn’t raise me with bedtime stories or comfort. He raised me with rules, discipline… and truth.‎That was when I learned about

‎‎Victor’s POV‎“Her inheritance? What for?” he asked, his brows knitting together as he leaned back in his chair.‎I didn’t answer immediately. I let the silence stretch just long enough to make him curious. My fingers tapped once against the armrest before I spoke.‎“As her husband-to-be, I need to know everything about my bride,” I said calmly. “Her likes, dislikes, hobbies, friends, family… properties, inheritance.”‎I held his gaze.‎“Everything.”‎“Oh… well…” He cleared his throat and adjusted the files on his desk. “I can give you a list of everything she inherits at the age of twenty-five.”‎“Mr. Smith,” I said, my tone polite but firm, “I don’t want a list. I want the papers of ownership and the proceeds for all the properties she inherits.”‎He paused. His fingers stopped moving.‎“Papers of ownership?” he repeated slowly, studying me as though trying to read what lay beneath my words.‎“Hmmm.”‎For a moment, the only sound in the room was the low hum of the air conditioner.

‎‎Victor’s POV‎Alice’s call caught me off guard.‎A slow smile spreads across my face as I lower the phone from my ear. I didn’t expect her to reach out first. Not my stubborn little Allie.‎She used to trail after me like a shadow, always soft, always hopeful.‎Now she speaks with authority… sharp, composed, distant.‎I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly.‎“My little Allie,” I murmur under my breath, my fingers tightening around the phone. “All grown up… fierce… remarkable.”‎Just the way I like them.‎The last words I told her echo in my head, sending a shiver down my spine. Heat coils low in my chest....not just desire, but something deeper… darker. A need. A pull.‎I want to hold her. I want to own her.‎To feel her breathe against me.‎To remind her where she belongs.‎Mine.‎Body. Soul. Spirit.‎But the thought doesn’t bring the comfort it should. Instead, something twists painfully in my chest.‎She thinks this marriage will be a sham.‎If only she knew.‎I drag a hand dow

‎Victor’s POVAt the bar, Amelia is practically draped over me....her fingers tracing lazy circles on my chest,....but I barely register her presence. All I can think about is Alice. The meeting we had plays over and over in my head like a stubborn echo. ‎She has always been fierce. Stubborn. Unyielding. But how dare she keep insisting she won’t marry me?My jaw tightens as I take a slow sip of my drink, the burn of the alcohol doing nothing to calm the irritation rising in me. I mean… I am a fine catch. Any woman would consider herself lucky...no, privileged....to be my wife. ‎But not Alice. ‎My little Allie. ‎A faint smirk tugs at my lips despite myself. She should be grateful that I want her. ‎And yet… ‎The thought shifts, softens against my will. ‎I’m the lucky one. ‎Because my little Allie is the most beautiful woman I have ever known. Infuriatingly beautiful. Even when she’s arguing, eyes blazing, voice sharp… ‎My fingers tighten slightly around the glass. ‎She can