Married to the Mafia's broken son

The silence in my father's office wasn't normal. It wasn't the kind of silence that made you feel at ease. It was the kind that screamed. The kind that smelled like blood and regret. The kind that told me-deep in my gut-that nothing about my life would ever be the same after tonight.

"I'm sorry, figlia mia."

My father's voice cracked, and that terrified me more than anything. He was a man who'd once walked through gunfire to save his empire. The kind of man who taught me how to lie with a straight face by the time I was ten.

So if he sounded sorry now, it meant the kind of sorry that came after selling your soul.

"What did you do?" I asked. I already knew. But I needed to hear him say it.

He couldn't look at me. His hand trembled as he poured a glass of whiskey. The bottle was half-empty, and judging by the fog in his eyes, this wasn't his first drink tonight.

"I didn't have a choice."

"Bullshit."

I stood in the middle of his office in my faded jeans and oversized hoodie, arms crossed tight to keep myself from unraveling. The dark oak panels of the room had witnessed many things-dirty deals, threats, murders sealed with a handshake-but this... this betrayal was personal.

"They'll kill us," he muttered. "Do you understand? If we don't give them something, Luciano will wipe out the Romano name like it never existed."

I flinched at the name. Luciano Moretti.

Everyone in the underworld knew him. The Moretti family was a legend-ruthless, untouchable. Luciano wasn't just their heir. He was their monster. Cold. Vicious. Rumors said he hadn't smiled since his fiancée died years ago. Said he'd put bullets in men's skulls with no hesitation. Said he didn't have a soul.

And now he was going to be my husband.

"You offered me up like a damn sacrificial lamb."

"It's a merger," he snapped, setting the glass down too hard. "A way to keep us from bleeding out. I'm not just throwing you to the wolves."

"No?" My voice rose. "Because it sure as hell feels like you are."

"Aurora..." he exhaled like my name physically hurt him. "It's done. Signed hours ago. The wedding's tomorrow."

I took a step back, as if I'd been punched. "Tomorrow?"

He nodded. "You'll be safe, bella. The Morettis protect their own."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Protect? Luciano Moretti doesn't even know what that word means. You're delivering me to a man who kills without blinking, who hasn't looked at a woman since-"

"Enough!" he barked. "You'll do this for the family."

There it was. The line I couldn't cross. Loyalty was our legacy. And I was my father's daughter-his only heir.

But even legacy has a price.

I didn't want a wife.

I wanted revenge. Blood. Silence.

But the room reeked of roses and wedding linen, and the old men smiled like they'd just signed a peace treaty, not chained me to a stranger for life.

"She's beautiful," someone muttered behind me.

I didn't care.

I stared at the document in front of me-black ink on white paper. Marriage license. Binding. Final.

The Romano girl would be mine in less than twenty-four hours. Aurora. A name too soft for the world she was walking into. I didn't ask for her. Didn't want her. But when her father crawled on his knees, offering her like a gift with a ribbon, the council smiled. Said it would merge power. Unite families. Stabilize things.

Bullshit.

They didn't care about unity. They just wanted to tame the devil in me. Make me feel again. Prove that I could still be useful without my past turning me into a liability.

Too late for that.

I signed the paper with a flick of my wrist.

Deal sealed.

Blood in, no way out.

I couldn't sleep.

How could I? I was being handed to a man known for breaking people like glass.

I stared at the midnight sky from my bedroom window, the city lights blurring through the tears I refused to let fall. Tomorrow, I'd wear a white dress. Tomorrow, I'd become a Moretti.

My soul already felt like it didn't belong to me anymore.

They called it a marriage.

But it felt more like a war.

The morning sun felt cruel.

It poured into my room, chasing away the shadows I'd tried to hide in. My reflection in the mirror looked like a stranger-haunted eyes, trembling lips, the faint purple under my eyes like bruises from sleepless nights.

The dress hung like a ghost on the hook beside the door. White. Lace. Traditional.

Mocking.

Someone knocked, but I didn't answer.

"Aurora," my cousin Gianna's voice came through softly, "it's time."

Time.

I wanted to scream, cry, run-but my legs moved on instinct. Betrayal had a way of numbing you, and I floated through the motions like a marionette. Hair. Makeup. The dress zipped up with the help of three women I barely knew.

I caught my own eyes in the mirror again.

A girl was vanishing behind them.

And in her place, a wife to the mafia's broken son.

I stood at the altar like a prisoner waiting for his execution.

The church was packed-dark suits, veiled whispers, the powerful and the dangerous sitting side-by-side. Every pair of eyes on me. Waiting to see if the rumors were true-if the infamous Luciano Moretti would finally bind himself to something... someone.

I felt nothing.

Not even when the doors opened and she stepped in.

She walked slowly, her hand gripping her father's arm like it was the only thing anchoring her to this world. Her face was unreadable, lips tight, but her eyes burned with something fierce-something that met mine with fire instead of fear.

Interesting.

I expected a doll.

I got a spark.

Luciano was beautiful.

But not in the way that inspired poetry.

He was terrifyingly composed. Dark suit tailored to perfection, black tie, sharp jaw. But it was his eyes-empty and ice-cold-that truly chilled me. He looked at me like I was just another business arrangement. Another deal closed.

Good.

I didn't need warmth.

This wasn't love.

I barely heard the vows. Just the rustle of the guests, the hush of weapons beneath suits, and the sound of my own pulse hammering in my ears.

"Do you take this man-"

No.

I don't.

But I said it anyway. "I do."

And just like that, I became Aurora Moretti.

A name that sounded more like a curse than a promise.

Her hand was cold in mine. Not from fear-no, it wasn't that. She was furious. And trying like hell not to show it.

I respected that.

But respect didn't mean mercy.

We drove in silence, back to the Moretti estate. A fortress built on blood and gold. My father had spared no expense for the wedding reception, but I didn't even glance at the guests. Let them drink and toast and pretend we were a happy couple.

We weren't.

Aurora sat stiff beside me in the back seat, her ring glinting against pale fingers.

"You'll have your own wing," I said finally, without looking at her. "I don't want company."

"I'm not here to play wife, Moretti," she bit out.

I turned, slowly. "Good. I don't want one."

The Moretti estate was colder than I'd imagined.

Not in temperature-but in silence, in the way the walls whispered and watched. I was shown to a lavish bedroom by a housekeeper who didn't make eye contact. Gold accents. Marble floors. A closet full of designer clothes I'd never wear.

The wedding night came and went without a word.

He didn't come to me.

He didn't even look in my direction after we returned.

Good.

I curled up in the massive bed and whispered a single promise to myself:

I may be chained here...

...but I will not break.

She surprised me.

No tears. No dramatics. No attempts to plead or pretend.

She acted like she didn't care.

But I saw it. The fury behind her posture. The sharp wit she barely kept in check. The way she looked at me like she wanted to tear me apart.

She wasn't afraid of me.

She should be.

Because the man she just married?

He was already ruined.

And ruin... is contagious.