"Don't speak unless I say… until the marriage is over," Jessica whispered sweetly, her voice like honey laced with poison. She stood behind Isabella, smiling at the girl's reflection in the tall mirror, as if admiring a perfect product she was about to present.
Isabella sat still, her fingers clenched tightly in her lap as she stared at her own reflection.
She looked like a doll.
Her long, thick brown hair had been brushed until it shone and pinned into a delicate style. Her big brown eyes, framed with soft, fluttering lashes, looked straight ahead, hollow and silent. Her lips were painted in a vivid red, contrasting the pale pink of her cheeks. The makeup was light...flawless but nothing could hide the emptiness in her eyes.
She wore a beautiful white dress, lace trailing down her arms and brushing the floor like mist. To any outsider, she looked like a glowing bride, but Isabella felt like a prisoner wrapped in silk.
There was no shine in her eyes.
No joy.
No excitement.
Only silence… and quiet defeat.
Jessica stood straight, fixing the delicate sleeves on her expensive dress, glancing once more at Isabella through the mirror with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She touched up her lipstick, her reflection showing a woman who looked like a loving mother but Isabella knew better now. Behind that soft voice and designer perfume was nothing but ice.
Turning slightly to one of the men standing at the door, Jessica said smoothly, "When I give the signal, bring her into the hall. Make sure she doesn't run, and... make sure she smiles."
The man nodded, silent and dressed in black like all the others...guns hidden beneath his jacket, but the tension in the air made them obvious. He didn't look at Isabella, just exited quietly to go prepare.
Isabella sat on the velvet chair, her wedding dress heavy around her body. Her heart pounded in her chest, but her face remained still, almost too still...like she'd accepted her fate, though inside, it felt like something was cracking slowly apart.
Everything felt too quiet, like a calm before a storm. Then came the knock.
"It's time," said the guard who returned. Isabella stood slowly, her legs shaking slightly under the layers of the gown. Two armed men fell into step behind her, while another walked ahead. As if she were a criminal being escorted not a bride.
The hallway outside was dim and lined with more guards, each of them stone-faced and fully armed. She felt their eyes watching her, but none dared speak. She was dressed in white, but it didn't feel like purity...it felt like surrender.
As they reached the double doors at the end of the hallway, the one in front opened them. Blinding golden light flooded into her vision as the massive hall came into view.
It was a grand wedding hall—marble floors, long velvet carpets, expensive chandeliers. Every seat was filled with people in dark suits and expensive gowns. But no one looked joyful. No one clapped. They were all from the same world..mafia, criminals, men and women of power.
And all of them knew exactly what kind of wedding this was.
Isabella walked slowly, her hands trembling slightly. The guards flanked her on both sides, making sure she kept walking. Her heels clicked softly against the marble, and whispers passed among the crowd. But none of them met her eyes.
And then she saw him.
At the end of the aisle, near the grand altar covered in white roses and twisted gold, stood the groom—her groom.
Mr. Moretti.
Leonardo Moretti.
He was tall..well over six feet. His black suit was perfectly fitted and expensive, the buttons shining subtly in the light. His skin was pale, his jawline sharp and defined like carved stone. His face was expressionless, unreadable, almost robotic. But it was his eyes that caught her breath.
Cold.
Deadly.
They were the kind of eyes that didn't blink when pulling a trigger. The kind of eyes that had seen blood… and caused it.
Yet beneath that terrifying stillness, there was something else...something caged, quiet, unreadable. Power. And danger. His eyes met hers, and though he didn't move, it felt like the air itself grew heavier.
Her steps faltered.
The guards behind her nudged her lightly to keep walking, and she did. Every part of her screamed to run, but she knew what waited if she tried. Jessica's warning echoed in her mind—my men are everywhere.
She was led right up to Leonardo, who didn't even glance at the crowd, nor at her dress. He didn't offer a smile. He only stared at her, his expression as calm as a mask.
Isabella stood before him, her heart thudding in her chest so hard she feared he could hear it. She was close enough now to see how impossibly sharp his features were, how his suit clung to his broad frame. He looked like sin dressed in silk. Strong, untouchable. The perfect image of power.
And yet… he was terrifying.
Leonardo didn't speak. He simply looked at her, head slightly tilted, like he was studying something..
Isabella clenched her hands tightly.
She was standing on the edge of something.
Something deep.
Something she couldn't escape.
The wedding ceremony unfolded like a silent performance..beautiful, perfect, cold. Vows were exchanged, but Isabella could barely hear her own voice as she repeated the words, her heart pounding so loudly it muffled everything else. Her small hands trembled in Leonardo's as the priest announced them husband and wife.
The room didn't erupt into cheers. There was no applause. Just eerie silence, heavy with power and expectations. Isabella could feel every stare pressing down on her like a weight.
Then came the moment.
"You may now kiss the bride," the priest said.
Her breath caught.
Isabella's wide, innocent eyes lifted to meet Leonardo's. Her face was still and pale, but her eyes flickered with fear. She had never been kissed before, not truly. And now, in front of a hundred dangerous strangers, she was to be kissed by a man whose face barely moved, whose eyes still held no emotion.
She tensed.
Leonardo didn't smile. He didn't say a word. He simply stepped closer.
Isabella's body stiffened as he leaned in, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her lips quivered, her heart racing as he came closer and closer. She could feel his breath against her mouth—warm, steady, unreadable.
But instead of kissing her lips, he shifted slightly.
He kissed the corner of her mouth.
Barely a brush. A faint press of lips.
Expressionless. Mechanical.
And then he stepped back.
The crowd remained quiet, as if unsure whether it was done. Isabella stood frozen, her lips slightly parted in shock, her cheeks burning. The kiss...if it could be called that was cold and empty, like it had been part of a transaction, not affection.
Leonardo turned to the crowd, nodding once. The priest announced them once more, and the guards immediately stepped forward to escort them out.
Isabella lowered her eyes, her heart aching with confusion. Her first kiss. Her wedding day. And it all felt like a beautifully wrapped nightmare.