The days leading up to the wedding were a blur for Amelia. Her once ordinary life had been ripped from her, leaving her adrift in a sea of anxiety, humiliation, and fear. Every time she looked in the mirror, the reality of what was about to happen hit her like a wave.
She wasn't just marrying a stranger—she was marrying him. Dante Moretti, the man who exuded power and control, the one who seemed to rule the very air around him. The man who saw her as nothing more than a possession to use, a tool to fulfill his desires and secure his place in the world.
And it wasn't just the marriage. It was what it meant. She was a virgin, and that fact would give him the leverage he craved. She shuddered, her skin crawling at the thought of what lay ahead. Dante's words echoed in her mind. You'll give me exactly what I want, when I want it. No complaints. No resistance.
Her father had all but disappeared into the shadows, consumed by guilt and regret, leaving Amelia to prepare for a wedding that felt more like a sentence. She was locked in a gilded cage, the bars made of family obligations, survival, and a man who would never look at her as anything but a tool.
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*The Morning of the Wedding*
Amelia stood in front of the full-length mirror, the wedding dress draped over her slender frame. The fabric was expensive, delicate, and stunning, but it felt like a shroud. It was a dress she never wanted to wear, a dress that symbolized a future she hadn't chosen.
Her hands shook as she adjusted the lace veil, the weight of her decision sinking deeper into her bones. She was about to marry a man who would never love her, who would never see her as more than a pawn in his world of manipulation and power.
The door to her room creaked open, and Amelia's breath caught in her throat. Standing in the doorway was her mother, her face pale, her eyes filled with a sadness that made Amelia's heart ache.
"Amelia…" her mother's voice was soft, almost fragile. "Are you sure about this? There's still time to run."
Amelia closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Where would I go, Mother? Our family has nothing left. He's the only way to save us."
Her mother stepped closer, her hands resting gently on Amelia's shoulders. "I know, but I just wish…" Her voice faltered, and she couldn't finish the thought.
"I know," Amelia whispered, her voice breaking. "I didn't want this life. I never asked for this."
Her mother's eyes welled with tears, and she hugged Amelia tightly. "I'm so sorry, my dear."
Amelia held her mother for a moment, allowing herself the briefest moment of solace before the reality of her fate took over.
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*The Ceremony*
The grand hall was filled with an overwhelming silence, save for the faint hum of whispers from the guests. The chandeliers hung like stars above her, their light casting a cold, distant glow over the room. Amelia walked down the aisle, her every step heavy with the weight of what was to come.
Dante stood at the altar, his expression a perfect mask of indifference. He looked every bit the mafia boss he was, sharp, commanding, untouchable. His eyes, though, were fixed on her—cold, calculating, assessing.
As she reached the altar, the priest's words sounded distant, muffled by the roar of her heartbeat in her ears. She could barely hear him ask if she took Dante as her lawfully wedded husband.
"Yes," she whispered, the word slipping from her lips without thought.
Dante's eyes flickered with something she couldn't place, but it was gone before she could understand it. He stepped forward, taking her hand with a firmness that sent a jolt of unease through her body. His grip was possessive, almost predatory.
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*The Reception*
The night dragged on in a haze of forced smiles and polite conversations. Amelia felt like she was floating through the world of Dante's family, unable to ground herself in anything that didn't feel like a nightmare. She didn't belong here. She never would.
Dante, on the other hand, thrived in this world. He was the center of attention, his charisma and power undeniable. But even amidst the celebrations, Amelia could feel the weight of his gaze, watching her every move like a hawk.
She tried to avoid him, but it was impossible. Every time she turned around, he was there—looming, watching, waiting. She was his now, and there was no escape.
Her hand trembled as she reached for her glass of champagne, the sharp sound of the crystal against her fingers like a warning.
"Amelia." His voice was a soft command from behind her. "You look... breathtaking tonight."
She turned, locking eyes with him, her stomach tightening. Dante's expression was as unreadable as always, but the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.
"I hope you're enjoying yourself," he continued, his voice low and velvety, the kind of tone that sent a shiver down her spine. "Because this is just the beginning. You'll learn quickly that there is no turning back now."
The words struck her like a blow. No turning back. Dante had made his claim, and Amelia knew, deep down, that it was only a matter of time before he took everything from her.
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Later That Night
Amelia stood by the window in their bridal suite, staring out at the city lights. She didn't feel like a bride. She felt like a prisoner. Dante had been cordial, almost polite, but there was something about him that made her skin crawl. His coldness, his indifference, the way he seemed to control everything, even her thoughts.
As she turned to face him, Dante was standing by the door, watching her, his arms folded across his chest.
"You've had a long night," he said, his tone neutral. "But the real work begins tomorrow."
Amelia's chest tightened. "What do you mean?"
Dante's lips curled into a smirk. "You'll see soon enough. But first, I suggest you get some rest. You'll need all the energy you can muster."
Her heart raced as he took a step closer. The tension between them crackled in the air, thick and suffocating. She knew what was coming. He wasn't just marrying her for her name or her family's debts. He wanted something more. Something he would take from her when he deemed it time.
But as Dante approached, his gaze cold and predatory, she knew there was no escaping the path that had been set for her. The contract had been signed, and with it, her fate.