Valeria Moretti stood at the altar, dressed in delicate white lace, her fingers holding the bouquet like a lifeline. The scent of roses filled the grand cathedral, Their red petals stood out against her pure white dress. The air felt heavy with excitement, hiding the tension beneath the grand event.
The benches were lined with the most powerful figures in the Italian underworld—men with cold eyes and bloodstained hands, women decorated in diamonds worth more than most lives. But Valeria saw none of them.
She only saw him.
Luca Romano stood before her, the man she had loved since childhood. The man who had whispered vows of devotion in the dark, stolen kisses beneath moonlit balconies, and promised her forever.
And yet, as the priest spoke the sacred words, Luca did not reach for her hand.
She felt nervous. Something was wrong.
"Do you, Luca Romano, take Valeria Moretti as your wife?"
Silence.
The silence in the cathedral became suffocating.
Luca's dark eyes met hers, unreadable, calculating. And then, with a slow, deliberate smile, he stepped back.
"No."
The crowd was shocked and surprise, the weight of his rejection crushing down on her like a collapsing building.
Valeria's breath caught in her throat. This wasn't happening.
"Luca," she whispered, her voice barely audible, the bouquet trembling in her hands.
He tilted his head, as if amused by her confusion. "You didn't think I'd actually marry you, did you, cara mia?"
She felt sharp pain in her chest, but before she could respond, the church doors burst open.
Gunfire erupted.
Screams filled the cathedral as bullets rained down,the sound was extremely loud. Valeria barely had time to react before a strong hand grabbed her wrist and dragged her backward.
Her veil tore as she stumbled, her heart slamming against her ribs. Men in dark suits flooded the room, armed to the teeth, their eyes set on one target—her.
"Take her," Luca ordered, stepping aside, completely unscathed, completely unaffected.
Her vision blurred. This was a setup.
Her father's empire—her entire family—had just been handed over to Luca on a silver platter.
She had been nothing more than the final piece in his game.
Her chest tightened, betrayal colder than the steel of the guns aimed at her. How could I have been so blind?
A pair of hands grabbed her arms. Valeria struggled, the silk of her gown tangling around her legs.
"No!" she gasped, thrashing against her captors. "Luca, don't do this!"
But he merely adjusted his cufflinks, watching with detached amusement. "You were never meant to be my wife, Valeria. You were only ever meant to be my leverage."
A hand clamped over her mouth, suppressing her scream.
And then—chaos.
Another round of shots rang out, but this time, the men holding her fell.
Blood splattered her gown, warm and sticky. The grip on her arms loosened, and she stumbled forward.
A new figure emerged from the smoke, his movements precise, lethal. Matteo DeLuca.
Valeria's pulsed.
Matteo—the man her father had always warned her about. The most dangerous enemy the Moretti family had ever known.
And he had just saved her.
He turned to her, his sharp features set in stone. "Move."
For a split second, she hesitated. Matteo DeLuca was not her ally. He was a predator, a man whose name was whispered in fear across the underworld.
But Luca's men were recovering fast. If she stayed, she was dead.
Valeria lifted the hem of her dress and ran.
Matteo led her through the side entrance, his stride long and purposeful. The city lights blink on and off outside, the scent of burning gunpowder thick in the air. A black car screeched to a stop beside them.
He pushed the door open and turned to her, his eyes looking dark and unreadable. "Get in."
Valeria's hands clenched at her sides. "Why would I trust you?"
Matteo breaths out, his patience thinning. "Because, princess, the only thing standing between you and a bullet right now—is me."
The truth in his words sent a chill down her spine.
Behind her, the cathedral was still in chaos. She had no allies left. No home. No future.
She pushed aside every instinct telling her this was a mistake and moved into the car.
Matteo followed, slamming the door shut.
The tires screeched as they sped into the night, leaving behind the wreckage of the life she had once known.
Valeria stared at her reflection in the window, at the blood splashed across her wedding dress.
Everything had changed.
And now, she owed her life to the most ruthless man in the mafia.
Matteo's voice broke the silence. "You have two choices, Valeria. You can keep pretending you're the naïve little princess Luca played, or you can wake up and realize that in this world, power is the only thing that will keep you alive."
She turned to face him, anger burning through the haze of heartbreak. "And what? Serve you like I was supposed to serve Luca?"
His lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "No, bella. You're not here to serve." He walked in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"You're here to survive."
Her heart pounded, but she refused to break his looks. She had spent her entire life being a pawn in men's games.
Not anymore.
Straightening her spine, she wiped the blood from her dress and met his looks with steel in her eyes.
"I don't need you to save me, Matteo."
His smile deepened, but there was something else in his expression now. Something unreadable.
"We'll see."
The car sped into the darkness, carrying her toward an uncertain fate.
And Valeria Moretti—betrayed bride, ruined princess—made a silent vow.
She would never be powerless again.
Not to Luca. Not to Matteo. Not to anyone.
This was not the end of her story.
It was only the beginning.