My life was a living hell after my mother died.

My father was the Don of the Rossi family, but you wouldn't know it from the way I lived.

My stepsister and stepmother treated me like a maid. When the family faced a crisis, they didn't hesitate to sell me off to Caspian, the heir to the Valerius family, for their own gain.

The word on the street was that Caspian was a monster—a butcher with a face torn apart by scars.

I refused, but my father threatened me with my mother's keepsakes, forcing me to sign a three-year marriage contract.

On our wedding day, Caspian didn't even look at me. He slid the ring on my finger, his touch like ice. "Remember," he said, "you're my wife in name only. Don't expect anything more."

I wasn't hurt. That was what I wanted, too.

I thought we'd spend three years as strangers, and then I'd be free.

But I never expected the day he'd look at me with those possessive eyes, kiss me hard, and declare, "You're mine. My wife. Forever."

And damn it, my heart actually skipped a beat.

"Play something happy, Alessia! Is this my birthday party or a funeral?"

Bianca's shrill voice cut through the party chatter, a dull knife scraping my last nerve.

I took a deep breath, my fingertips numb, and let my hands move on autopilot across the keys.

I was wearing a faded old dress, the hem crudely stitched, completely out of place in the glittering ballroom.

"God, look at her hands," Bianca pointed and laughed. "They're as rough as a charwoman's. And she thinks she can be a pianist? Alessia, you're better suited to scrubbing our toilets."

A wave of harsh laughter erupted around them.

I kept my head down, saying nothing, just moving my fingers faster.

Ever since my mother died ten years ago and my stepmother, Genevieve, moved in, my life had been hell.

She forbade me from touching the piano and burned my sheet music.

She made me do the dirtiest, hardest chores with the maids, torturing my once-delicate hands with endless work.

But I didn't give up.

I endured it for ten years, saving every penny from my meager allowance, all for a chance to escape this house.

Tonight was Bianca's twenty-first birthday. It was also the night I'd been planning my escape for a whole year.

When it was time to blow out the candles, and all eyes were on the huge, fancy cake, I quietly closed the piano lid and slipped into the shadows.

I hurried down the long hall and pushed open the back door.

The cold night air was a shock to my skin, jolting me awake.

Run.

I hiked up my skirt and sprinted down the dark alley.

My pre-booked taxi was waiting just two blocks away.

Freedom was so close.

Suddenly, blinding headlights tore through the darkness. A black SUV screeched to a halt, blocking my path.

The doors flew open and a few of my father's men jumped out.

"Miss Alessia, your father is waiting for you," the man in the lead said, his face expressionless as he grabbed my wrist.

"Let me go! Let go!" I struggled, digging my nails into his skin.

But I was powerless, a lamb to the slaughter.

I was shoved into the car, and a cold dread washed over me.

…

Slap!

The sharp sound echoed through the study.

I was knocked to the cold floor, my cheek instantly swelling as the taste of blood filled my mouth.

"Is this how you repay me?" My father, Antonio, was furious, his chest heaving. "Do you have any idea the shame you've brought on this family?"

I spat out a mouthful of blood and sneered, "Repay you? Father, you should be asking if you've ever been kind to me!"

My father's face stiffened. A flash of guilt crossed his eyes, quickly replaced by even more anger. "You dare talk back to me!"

My stepmother, Genevieve, stood by with her arms crossed, a soft, fake smile on her face. "Alessia, darling, even if you don't like me, you shouldn't upset your father like this. He cares so much about you."

I couldn't stand her phony act and turned my head away in disgust.

Even if I failed this time, I wouldn't give up.

I swore to myself this wasn't over.

"Enough," my father said, waving his hand impatiently at my stubborn silence. "Stop wasting time with her. Alessia, I've indulged your willfulness long enough. The family needs you. You have a chance to atone for this."

"An alliance with the Valerius family. You will marry Caspian."

"No. I will never marry him." I shot to my feet, my voice trembling with rage. "They say he's a killer, a madman, that half his face was destroyed! You're sending me to my death!"

Bang! My father, Antonio, slammed his hand on the desk, making the teacups rattle. "You don't have a choice! The Rossi family is on the verge of collapse. Only an alliance with the Valerius family can save us. And you, Alessia, are the only thing of value you have to offer."

I fought back tears and demanded, "Why me? Why not Bianca?"

My father looked away. "Your sister is too delicate. As the older sister, it's your responsibility."

I looked at his cold, heartless face, and my own heart went cold.

This was my father. For his precious younger daughter and the family's interests, he would throw me into the fire without a second thought.

"Then I'd rather be thrown out of this house and cut all ties with the Rossi family!" I said through gritted teeth.

"Cut ties?" Genevieve let out a cold laugh.

She walked over to a safe, opened it, and took out a fine wooden box and a yellowed, worn-out book of sheet music.

The moment I saw the music, my breath caught in my throat.

It was the Chopin book my mother had left me, filled with her handwritten notes from when she taught me to play.

It was the most precious thing she had left me in this world.

"Alessia, what do you think would happen if I sold off this jewelry, and then threw this trash into the fireplace and watched it turn to ash…" Genevieve's fingers traced the cover of the book, her eyes glinting with malice.

"Don't touch it!" I screamed, trying to lunge forward, but two bodyguards held me back.

"Just be a good girl and marry him. In three years, when the contract is up, I'll give all of this back to you, untouched," Genevieve said, looking down at me like I was a pathetic insect. "Otherwise, you'll never see any of it again."

Tears welled in my eyes. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

They had me.

"Let me… think about it for a night," I said, closing my eyes in despair.

Back in my dark, damp attic room, I shakily opened my old laptop and searched for everything I could find on "Caspian Valerius."

What I found made my blood run cold.

I’d heard he was ruthless, but I never imagined the chilling titles and stories attached to his name.

"The Butcher," "The Night King," "The Monster Who Put a Bullet in His Own Uncle's Head"... every label came with a bloody rumor.

In a brutal firefight, half his face had been burned, and he had since retreated into the shadows, his methods becoming even more savage.

I only found one photo of him, his profile half-hidden in shadow.

The man in the picture had a jawline as sharp as a knife and eyes so dark they could swallow you whole.

I opened the marriage contract again.

It was for a term of three years.

If I could just survive three years with this monster, I could get my mother's things back and finally be free.

It was a gamble with my life.

The next morning, I walked downstairs calmly.

At the dining table, my father and Genevieve were elegantly cutting their steaks.

They paused when they saw me.

"I'll sign," I said, walking to the table, my voice steady. "But I have one condition. Besides my mother's belongings, I want one million dollars. The money has to be in my private account before the wedding."

"A million? Are you crazy!" Genevieve slammed her fork down. "You greedy little thing!"

"No money, and I'll jump from the roof of this house today," I said, looking at her coldly. "Then you can send Bianca to that monster yourselves."

My father's face twisted.

He stared at me, then finally gritted his teeth and held back the furious Genevieve. "Fine. I agree. The money will be in your account tomorrow. The wedding is the day after. You'd better not try any more tricks."

As I turned to go back to my room, I ran into Bianca in the hallway.

She was wearing a beautiful new dress, a smug, vicious smile on her face.

She leaned in close to my ear and whispered with a laugh:

"Enjoy your life in hell, sister. You're about to get into bed with the devil himself."

The wedding was held in a hidden, cold church on the outskirts of Chicago.

There were no flowers, no guests, not even a hymn. The air was thick with the smell of old mildew and a chilling silence.

I was wearing a cheap, second-hand dress Genevieve had picked out.

The hem was yellowed and the waist was loose and ill-fitting—just another one of her ways to humiliate me. I was used to it.

Standing in the middle of the church, I felt less like a bride and more like a prisoner on her way to the gallows.

Click.

The heavy wooden doors of the church creaked open.

A cold draft blew in, along with the sound of heavy, rhythmic footsteps.

I held my breath and turned my head.

In that instant, my eyes widened.

The man who strode in was even taller than I'd imagined.

He wore a perfectly tailored black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Every step he took radiated a suffocating pressure.

But what shocked me most was his face.

The rumors said he was a disfigured, ugly monster.

But the man before me had a face so handsome it was almost unnatural.

His features were as sharp as a marble sculpture, his skin a sickly pale, and his deep green eyes were bottomless pits.

There were no scars on his face, no sign of disfigurement at all.

This was Caspian Valerius, the most feared king of Chicago's underworld.

He didn't even glance at me.

From the moment he walked in, he was speaking in a low voice to the lawyer beside him, his expression so cold it was as if he were here to sign a simple business contract.

"Let's begin," Caspian said, walking to the priest.

The priest began reading the vows, saying something about "for better or for worse," but it was obvious that neither of us took it seriously.

"The bride and groom may now exchange rings."

One of Caspian's men presented a black velvet box.

He reached out with his long, well-defined fingers and picked up the cold platinum diamond ring.

He grabbed my hand, with no gentleness whatsoever, and slid the ring onto my finger with a cold, hard motion.

His fingertips were so cold they sent a shiver through me.

Next, the lawyer placed the marriage agreement in front of us.

I picked up the pen with a trembling hand, but just as I was about to sign, I heard a soft, cold laugh.

"You're not Bianca Rossi."

Caspian turned his head slightly, and those green eyes finally landed on my face.

His gaze was as sharp as a blade, as if it could cut me open and see through all my pretenses.

My heart skipped a beat, and my hand froze. "I…"

"The Rossi family has some nerve, pulling a switch like this."

I didn't know what to say. All I could think was, It's over. He's going to kill me.

But Caspian just snorted and casually signed his name on the agreement.

"But it doesn't matter," he said, straightening up and looking down at me. "I don't care who's sitting in this spot. To me, you and Bianca are no different. You're just a placeholder."

The ceremony was over.

No hug, no kiss.

I was shoved into his black Rolls-Royce.

The car sped off, finally stopping in front of a heavily guarded private estate on the edge of the city.

Caspian got out first and strode into the mansion. I followed behind him like a frightened puppet, holding up my ill-fitting dress.

"Mr. Valerius." An elderly butler greeted him respectfully.

"This is my wife. Get her a room. The rest is up to you," Caspian announced my identity casually.

The butler only flinched for a second before nodding respectfully. "Yes, sir."

After giving his orders, Caspian turned to leave.

He looked busy.

Just before he walked out the door, he paused, turned his head slightly, and said to me in a meaningful tone:

"Remember, be good. Don't do anything you're not supposed to. It'll make your life a lot easier."