To save her family from financial ruin, Elena Romano is forced into an arranged marriage with the most feared man in New York's underworld-Luca Moretti, a ruthless mafia boss. What begins as a cold, loveless union soon transforms as Elena discovers...
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I woke up in a bed that wasn't mine, in a room that felt more like a museum than an actual place someone lived in. The silk sheets clung to my skin, too soft, too delicate for someone like me. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and freshly pressed linen, mixing with the faint notes of dust that seemed to settle in every corner. The room itself—vast and sterile—was a contradiction of luxury and emptiness. Cream-colored walls with gold accents, intricate crown molding, and heavy curtains that barely allowed the faintest trace of daylight to pierce through. It felt... cold. Foreign. Like I didn't belong.
The bed was massive, its size almost suffocating. I sank deeper into the softness, trying to fight the overwhelming sense of displacement that washed over me. For a moment, I couldn't even remember where I was.
Then the reality hit me like a tidal wave. I wasn't in my own room. I was in Luca's mansion—his world. His home. And I was his wife now. The weight of that hit me with a sharp sting in my chest. The memory of the wedding, the vows, that damned ring on my finger... it all rushed back in a flood of confusion and fear.
I stared at the gold band resting on my finger, the dim light glinting off it like a warning. It should have been a symbol of love, of commitment—but it felt more like a shackle. A heavy chain that bound me to this life I didn't know how to navigate.
A wave of panic rose in my throat, tightening with every breath. I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't ready for this life. Yesterday, I was Elena Romano—someone who at least had a semblance of control, even if it was crumbling. But now? Now, I was Elena Moretti, the wife of a mafia don. Nothing about this felt real. Nothing felt like it was mine.
I shoved the covers aside, my feet sinking into the soft carpet beneath me. The weight of the world seemed to settle on my shoulders, as if invisible chains were holding me down, tethering me to this space I barely recognized. My gaze drifted across the room—a massive armoire, ornate dresser, velvet chaise near the window. It was all so perfect, so polished. Yet, it felt like a stranger's life. A life that didn't belong to me, and I wasn't sure how to fit in it.
The wardrobe doors groaned as I slid them open, revealing a collection of designer clothes—each piece more immaculate than the last. Dresses, blouses, skirts—all in my size, all perfectly folded, untouched by time or wear. I reached for a simple tan dress, the fabric smooth and rich beneath my fingers. Even this felt too much. Too perfect. As if I wasn't supposed to be the one to wear it.
I dressed quickly, not wanting to linger in this room, this life that felt so foreign. As I smoothed the fabric against my skin, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. A jolt ran through me. I still looked like me—dark hair, tousled from sleep, eyes weighed down by the same exhaustion—but something inside me shifted. I didn't feel like myself. I felt like a stranger trapped in the shell of someone else's reality.
A sharp knock on the door pulled me from my swirling thoughts. My heart stuttered in my chest, and for a moment, I froze. Was it Luca? Was I supposed to slip into the role of the perfect wife now, to perform some part I didn't even know how to play?
