CHAPTER 1 #2
"I-I'm sorry." I whispered as I close my eyes, "Nicola.
.. please...please let go of...me." I whimpered.
Though I always managed to keep my tears at bay whenever Nicola abused me like this, today my tears somehow managed to escape from my eyes because like I said before, I couldn't take it anymore.
My skin crawled every time he touched me and my body ached every time he used it, he made me feel like I was worth nothing.
"That was not an answer to my question," he whispered when he moved closer with his face and rubbed the tip of his nose on my cheek.
He then reached the crook of my neck with his face and inhaled my smell.
"which clearly indicates that you do not listen to a word I fucking say.
" He suddenly grasped onto my neck and growled, my hand traveled to his hand and clawed it as I try to fight him off me but to no avail.
I gasped when his grip grew tight by the second and I began to choke.
"And you know that everything comes with a price.
You better start listening to me detka, or I'll fuck you to your death.
" He spat before he let go and then pushed me down on the bed.
"Nicola, p-please... d-don't do anything.
" I pleaded as I held his hand and try to push myself up but he only gripped my shoulders again and slammed me into the mattress.
He brought his knee to my stomach and pressed it until I was unable to get up, all I did was groan in agony.
I began to sob at this point because this was the worst Nicola has ever done before he went onto actually ruin me.
Nicola didn't care, he just wanted everything his way which is why my hopes all were crashed when I saw the rage just running past his eyes.
"Detka, why do you provoke me then? Why don't you just open your God damn ears and just listen to me!
You only do this to yourself; if you don't listen that I have to do something about it.
" He responded as he wiped a tear away, but I flinched away from his touch.
"Why do you do this to me, lyubit? You know how much I hate it when I make you cry like this.
" He whispered while he began to lift my shirt up and place revolting kisses on my neck, onto my chest and then to my stomach.
I sobbed as I stare up at the ceiling, slowly feeling myself crippling away.
This was a constant reminder of what I was worth; Nicola's whore.
Nicola's bitch. Nicola's wife. I didn't want this at all, as much as I would protect, kick, fight.
.. Nicola will be deaf to them. He would go on to ruin me, use me until I was unable to give him what he wants.
"Nicola please..." I whispered as he went lower and lower.
My heart dropped to my stomach when he reached my trousers and finally, he pulled them down.
"I'll come downstairs with you to eat, please let me go.
" I closed my eyes again as panic flooded me while I pleaded with him, all my tears had fallen out and my chest hurt from crying.
My throat closed up when he carried on with the abuse, I couldn't do this anymore.
I couldn't do this anymore.
As I was pleading with him, he did not hear a single thing I said so I began to fight.
I lifted my leg up and began to kick him off me but before I can get out of his hold, both his hands gripped my leg as he reached my face.
He then straddles my hips before his hands curled around my neck, however he did not apply pressure to it.
My shoulders curl up when I watch him in horror, my stomach dropped when raged filled his face once again.
"If you ever disrespect me like that, I will destroy you." He leaned closer and growled, "I'm going to fuck you and you're going to take this like a good suka. Now shut the fuck up and give yourself to me instead of fighting like a damn child!"
***
I SIT IN THE BATH AS I scrub my body until it burned, I had to wipe every trace of him on my skin and I was willing to go to any lengths just to do that.
I'm fact, I was ready to go to any extend to leave this place, leave Nicola which shouldn't be the case now because I really shouldn't have listened to my father years ago in the first place.
My heart thudded against my chest when my hands stopped their rapid actions because I saw blood just spreading everywhere.
I stare at my burned skin and shiver as I remembered the day when Nicola was introduced to me.
Dad played me like a violin, and I was a fool to fall for it again.
When Alessandro died, it broke me. I was on the floor for months — empty, numb, easy to control. That’s when Dad really took over. Every day after that was his to dictate, and I was too weak to fight it.
Exactly a year after Alessandro was gone, I met Nicola. At first, I thought maybe fate was throwing me a lifeline. He was sweet — too sweet. He said all the right things, acted like he understood me. When I cried over Alessandro, he held me. When I blamed myself, he said he’d wait for me.
And then, one day, he didn’t wait.
That day, he forced himself on me. He left me on the bed, motionless, staring at the ceiling while he walked away — proud of what he’d done. He’d taken something from me and smiled about it. I couldn’t believe it at first. The man who’d been kind to me, who’d said he loved me, raped me.
After that, I saw him for who he really was.
The air hit my skin cold and sharp. I looked down and saw the bruises — purple and yellow, scattered like a map of everything he’d done to me.
Every mark had a memory. I clenched my jaw and shut my eyes, trying to block it all out, but Alessandro’s face came rushing back.
His smile, his laugh, the way he used to hold me like I was something worth protecting.
I missed him. God, I missed him.
The memories tore at me until I started crying without a sound.
I hugged myself, shaking. Every time I remembered leaving him there — lifeless on that floor — it felt like my chest caved in.
I never got to bury him. Never got to say goodbye.
There’s no grave to visit, no place to talk to him. Just that image of him cold and gone.
The last time I saw him alive was over lunch. I told him I wanted forever with him. He told me he wanted to kiss me until we forgot the world. Five years later, those words still echo in my head.
Without him, I’m nothing. Just pieces.
Now there’s only Nicola — my fiancé. My permanent prison.
I still remember my father’s voice that day, proud like he’d done me a favor. “You’re marrying the man of your dreams,” he said. But when I saw Nicola, I saw the truth — I wasn’t marrying a man. I was marrying a monster. A rapist. A nightmare I couldn’t wake from.
Since then, he’s run my life. Every choice I make goes through him. He tells me what to wear, when to eat, how to breathe. And I do it, because not doing it means pain.
My father doesn’t see any of it. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. To him, Nicola is perfect — strong, respected, powerful. Everything my father isn’t. The ideal son-in-law, the heir to his mafia empire. He can’t see the blood under Nicola’s hands, or the bruises under my clothes.
I finished washing up, scrubbing my skin until it burned, trying to erase the past and failing like always.
After ten minutes, I stepped out of the bathroom. My heart sank when I saw I wasn’t alone.
He was standing there.
Nicola.
He smiled — warm, fake, practiced.
“Good evening, sweetheart. How are you?” he said, stepping forward. His arms wrapped around me before I could react, pulling me against him.
I froze.
Vito D’Angelo.
The man who’s supposed to love me, protect me, do anything to keep me safe — stood in front of me, acting like a father when he wasn’t one. The most he ever did was take me out for walks around the estate, pretending that counted as care.
Vito D’Angelo — “the most dangerous American mobster,” or so he liked to say. I never believed it. He bragged about his power, but everyone knew he was losing his grip. The name D’Angelo was always on the news, always in whispers, and I hated hearing it. I hated that it was mine too.
“Sweetie,” he said, rubbing my arm while pulling me into a half-embrace, “I thought I told you before — you’re blessed with a beautiful voice. Use it.”
His hand burned through the fabric of my shirt. I flinched, pressing against his chest, fighting the urge to push him off.
My eyes welled up. Everything I’d lost — Alessandro, freedom, myself — it all traced back to him. He’d ruined everything. He might’ve been my father by blood, but I couldn’t call him that anymore. He didn’t deserve it.
“I-I’m sorry, Des— Dad. I’m fine,” I said quietly, forcing the words out before stepping away and turning my face aside.
“Ariana,” D’Angelo said, voice sharp enough to make me jump. I looked up quickly. “Your mother has something to tell you. She’s waiting in her room. Go see her.”
My stomach dropped. I already knew what that meant — whatever my mother had to say wasn’t hers to say. He was making her speak for him again.
“Is... is she okay?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
He nodded and set a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“Of course, dearie. Come, I’ll take you to her. She’s perfectly fine.”
He started leading me toward the door, but stopped halfway and turned back. His tone shifted, cold and deliberate.
“Listen carefully to what your mother says, and don’t disappoint me. I’d hate to take away what you have now.”
What I have now?
I had nothing. I didn’t even care what he threatened anymore — not as long as Mom was safe.
We walked down the long main hallway toward D’Angelo’s room. The house didn’t feel like home anymore. Nicola’s men were posted everywhere, lining each corridor, rifles slung and eyes sharp. Since Nicola had moved in, the place had become a fortress — or a prison, depending on who you asked.
When we reached D’Angelo’s door, my stomach twisted. I didn’t know what kind of state my mom was in, and the thought of seeing her hurt again made me sick.
He opened the door and stepped in first. I followed.
For a second, I froze — my heart easing just a little. Mom looked... well. For the first time in years, she looked healthy.
Valentina Vallezi. My mother. My reason to keep breathing. I still thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
She lifted her head the moment I entered. Her eyes met mine — warm, soft — then dimmed with something I couldn’t read. Sadness. Fear. Resignation.
She smiled, but it faded as soon as D’Angelo spoke.
“Valentina,” he said firmly. I glanced back and saw him give her a small nod — like he was granting permission. She nodded back, hesitantly, then looked at me again. That same smile — gentle, trying to hide the pain.
“Sit down, tesoro,” she said softly, patting the seat beside her.
I sat down. She was in a chair opposite D’Angelo, who watched us both like a hawk, switching his stare between us as if he was waiting for something specific.
“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice clipped, eyes on Mom. “Would you please tell her? I don’t have all day, Valentina.”
“Have patience, Vito,” she said quietly, her tone calm, measured.
They locked eyes — his full of anger, hers of sorrow. Normally, he’d never let her talk back like that. But today... today was different.
“Dolcezza,” she started, cupping my face in her hands.
I looked into her eyes, searching for a sign — anything that could tell me what was coming.
Her brows drew together, a frown tugged at her lips, and her eyes glistened.
Her thumb brushed my cheek. That was all I needed to know — whatever she was about to say wasn’t her choice.
“Since it’s been years,” she said slowly, voice trembling, “your father thinks it’s time to... move forward.” She nodded once, trying to keep her composure.
My heart started pounding. “W-what do you mean?” I asked, glancing between her and D’Angelo. He said nothing, just watched me with that empty look.
Mom’s hands began to shake. Her breath hitched.
“Your wedding with Nicola will be next month,” she said.
The words hit like a gunshot. I saw her face crumble, tears spilling from her eyes as she exhaled a shaky breath. I just sat there — silent, frozen, staring.
My chest felt tight. Even though I’d known this day was coming, hearing it out loud still shattered something inside me. Next month. I was going to marry that vile man. There was nothing left to do.
“D-Dad...” I said, voice trembling, “you can’t do that.” I looked between them, panic clawing at my throat. “Dad, please don’t. Mom?”
Mom’s hands tightened around mine. She looked at me with pure sorrow, shaking her head slowly.
“I can and I will, Ariana,” D’Angelo cut in, voice sharp and final.
I turned toward him. He glared back, hard and cold.
“I’ve told you this too many times, and yet you still pretend you have a choice. You don’t. You’ll marry him next month. And that’s final.”
“Dad, I beg you—please don’t make this happen.”
My voice broke as I dropped to my knees, pleading like it was my last chance at life. Tears streamed down my face as I looked up at him, desperate for any sign of mercy. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he grabbed my arms and forced me back to my feet, his grip rough enough to bruise.
“You’re going to marry Nicola next month, dearie. That’s final.” D’Angelo’s tone was calm, almost cold. “Don’t make this harder than it already is. Accept the alliance. There’s no way out.”
I shook my head, crying harder. My body trembled uncontrollably, and he watched me like he always did when he knew I was breaking—ready to twist it to his advantage.
“Dad... I will never accept this alliance or whatever you call it,” I choked out, voice shaking. “He’ll never love me the way I deserve. He’s a monster, and you know that!”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ariana!” D’Angelo snapped, running a hand through his hair as his temper flared. “It’s been five years! Five fucking years! When are you going to understand that Alessandro is dead?”
The words hit like knives.
“You have to move on,” he said, his tone dropping lower, darker. “Or things will get bad for you.”
Isn’t it bad already?
My heart splintered all over again. Hearing Alessandro’s name from his mouth made it worse—made it real. I had no one left to fight for me. No way out.
I was going to marry Nicola.
And Alessandro was gone.
That truth crushed me again and again, until there was nothing left inside me to break.