Chapter 1
Elena's POV
The church bells hammered my nerves as I closed my eyes, feeling the white veil brush against my cheeks with an icy chill. Damn it, I wasn't a bride today—just a lamb being led to slaughter.
When I opened my eyes, the stained-glass windows of Sacred Heart Church fractured the sunlight into broken pieces. Marco stood at the altar, wearing that fake smile that made my stomach churn.
The aisle, flanked with white flowers, felt like a passage straight to hell. With each step forward, my heart sank deeper.
"Marco Rossi, do you take Elena Castelli to be your lawfully wedded wife?" The priest's ancient voice echoed through the church.
Marco's lips curved upward. "I do." His voice pierced my eardrums.
"Elena Castelli, do you take Marco Rossi to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
My lips went dry, my heart clutched by an invisible hand. Just as I was about to surrender, the church doors burst open with a deafening crash that snapped everyone's heads around.
Dante Castelli stood in the doorway, his gray-green eyes locked on me. My heart leaped—my former brother-in-law, the sole Castelli heir, with armed men at his back.
"This wedding is over," he announced coldly, raising a black pistol.
My God! My blood instantly boiled.
Screams erupted as Marco's bodyguards fumbled for their weapons. BANG! The first shot tore through the air. I instinctively ducked, watching white flowers get trampled and blood spreading across the carpet. Through the chaos, I could only see Dante advancing toward me with determination.
"Dante Castelli! This is sacrilege!" Marco shouted, his face reddening as he backed away. "She's your brother's widow! What do Castelli traditions mean to you?"
Dante sneered, "Traditions? A Rossi who conspired to swallow our family has no right to speak of traditions." His gaze pierced through the chaos directly to me. "Elena never belonged to Victor. She was always meant to be mine."
Another gunshot. Dante's men quickly neutralized Marco's bodyguards. Screams, prayers, and gunfire merged into a hellish symphony.
A bullet whizzed past my ear as time suddenly slowed. My mind flashed back through five years, to where it all began—when I had no idea where fate would push me...
Five Years Ago
It all started with my father's damned gambling. He owed the Castelli family an astronomical debt, and his only repayment option was me—married to their heir, Victor. The man ten years my senior claimed "love at first sight"—at least that's what he said.
Three weeks later, I stood in an expensive wedding dress before a makeshift altar at the Castelli mansion, my heart like stone. The air mixed with champagne, cologne, and danger. I was surrounded by mafia members whose eyes made me feel like merchandise.
Victor was handsome and wealthy, but his gaze always held possession. At least he wasn't as brutal as other mobsters were rumored to be—my only consolation.
At the wedding, a young man in the corner caught my attention. In his early twenties, handsome and strong, but those eyes were what stood out—sharp enough to see through everything. When he locked eyes with me, a strange shiver ran through my body.
"Watch out for that one," a female guest whispered. "That's Dante, Victor's brother. Don't be fooled by his looks. They call him 'Little Devil' in the family—for good reason."
After the wedding, Victor was surprisingly considerate. Though our marriage was essentially a transaction, he never forced himself on me, even took me to Broadway shows. I naively thought I might find a foothold in this dark world.
But good fortune never lasts, especially for outsiders in the mafia world.
Six months later, on a stormy night, frantic doorbell rings jolted me awake. I opened the door and nearly screamed—Dante stood there, soaking wet, holding Victor's bloodied body.
"Call the private doctor! NOW!" The panic in Dante's voice chilled me to the bone. I'd never seen this composed man so unhinged.
But it was too late. Victor died en route to the hospital. "Rossi family ambush," Dante later explained. In this world, death was just part of daily life, as common as breakfast and newspapers.
After the funeral, I sat in the corner of the Castelli family meeting room, like a lamb awaiting slaughter. They didn't even bother hiding the cruel words as they discussed my fate.
"She knows too much, we need to handle her," a wrinkled old man said coldly. "Outsiders shouldn't know our business."
Victor's father—the old Don Antonio—silently smoked his cigar, his gaze piercing. In this room, he was the true reaper.
Another family member rubbed his hands. "Why not make use of her? Marry her off to that Bianchi widower, get something in return."
My hands trembled, but I forced my face to remain expressionless. Just as despair was about to consume me—
"Enough." Dante suddenly stood. "She's Victor's wife, a Castelli. We don't dispose of our own."
Everyone, including Antonio, turned to the young man. Dante continued, "Victor entrusted her to me with his dying breath. Castellis keep their word."
I almost laughed—Victor couldn't even speak when he died. But no one dared question Dante's lie.
After the meeting, I cornered Dante in the hallway. "Why help me? The real reason."
His eyes were unfathomable. "I promised Victor."
"Stop lying," I stared directly at him, blood pounding in my ears. "Victor couldn't speak when he died. What's the truth?"
Dante stepped forward, his lips curving. "Maybe I just think the Castelli family needs a smart woman like you."
As he walked away, he stopped at the end of the hallway without turning. "By the way, Victor has a daughter, Sofia. Her mother died last year. No one's caring for her now. If you want to leave... we'll find someone to take over." His tone suggested this "takeover" would be nothing good.
That night, I met Sofia—a quiet six-year-old with Victor's big eyes. She watched me warily, like a frightened animal. When I offered to read her a bedtime story, a long-lost light flickered in her eyes.
Watching her finally sleep peacefully in my arms, I made my decision.
The next day, I walked straight into Antonio's study. "I'm staying to take care of Sofia," I took a deep breath. "But I have conditions."
The old Don looked up from his documents, waiting for me to continue.
"I want to manage Victor's restaurants," my voice was surprisingly steady. "I grew up in the restaurant business. I can make them better... cover operations."
Antonio studied me for a long time, his lips slightly curving. "Commendable courage, Elena. But in our world, courage can be more dangerous than cowardice."
He pressed the intercom. "Call Dante in." Then to me, "From today, he'll teach you our rules."
When Dante entered and our eyes met, a strange current ran down my spine. Little did I know then how this decision would completely change my life, or what would unfold between me and this dangerous man.