Dahlia’s POV

A tall man stood near the table, his back partly turned toward us. I didn’t need to see his face to know who he was. The air around him felt… heavy, powerful, like he was someone people didn’t dare to cross. Luca Romano.

My throat went dry the moment I recognized him. He turned slowly, and for a few seconds, I forgot how to breathe. He was—well, there wasn’t any other way to say it—dangerously attractive. The kind of man you’d think twice about staring at, because just one look could make you feel like you’d done something wrong.

His tuxedo was perfect, not a wrinkle in sight. The black fabric seemed to catch the candlelight in a way that made him look even more intimidating. His jawline was sharp—so sharp it honestly looked like it could cut glass. His midnight-black hair was slicked back neatly, not a strand out of place. And those eyes—stormy grey, cold and unreadable—locked on us the moment he turned. Or maybe just on me. I couldn’t tell.

My father immediately tensed beside me. I could hear his breathing change. Then he spoke, his voice trembling slightly, “Mr. Romano, forgive us for being late.”

Luca didn’t reply. He just stood there, silent, his eyes moving slowly from my father to my mother, then stopping on me. My heart thumped hard against my ribs, so loud I was sure everyone could hear it.

When I glanced at Mum, her face was pale. She looked horrified, like she wanted to be anywhere but here. Her hands clutched her shawl tightly, knuckles white.

Father nudged me lightly, his fingers shaking. “Say hello to Mr. Romano,” he whispered, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

My lips felt dry. I lowered my gaze to my shoes and tried to sound calm, though my voice came out soft and unsure. “H-hello, sir.”

I tried to mimic my sister’s tone—polite, confident—but it didn’t sound right. I sounded scared.

I heard slow, deliberate footsteps moving toward me. Each one made my chest tighten a little more. I didn’t dare look up until I saw his polished black shoes stop right in front of mine.

My whole body stiffened when I felt his fingers under my chin. They were cold, strong, forcing me to lift my head. My breath caught when my eyes met his.

Luca Romano was staring straight at me. His gaze was deep and unblinking, searching my face like he was trying to figure out what I was hiding. I tried my best not to look away, but it felt impossible. The room suddenly felt too small, the air too heavy.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Father shift nervously. His hand twitched at his side, and I heard him clear his throat softly, like he didn’t even mean to. He didn’t say a word though. He just stood there, stiff and silent, like even breathing too loudly might make things worse.

Mum’s breathing was uneven too. Her lips were moving quietly, whispering a prayer I couldn’t hear. She kept her eyes on the floor, and I noticed how pale she looked. For a moment, I thought she might faint, but she didn’t. She just stood there, holding herself together somehow.

The whole room felt heavy. Cold. No one moved or spoke. Luca’s fingers slipped away from my chin, and his eyes stayed on me for a moment—calm, but impossible to read. The silence dragged on and on, until it felt like time itself had stopped.

Then he spoke.

“This should never happen again.”

His voice was low and smooth, the kind that sent chills through you without even trying. He didn’t raise it, but every word felt sharp. Like a warning that didn’t need to be repeated.

He took a step back, slow and controlled, his gaze sweeping over all of us one last time. Then he turned and walked out. The sound of his shoes echoed on the floor, fading away until there was nothing left but silence.

For a few seconds, no one moved. It was like we were all afraid he’d come back. Then Father let out a long breath, his shoulders dropping as if someone had cut a rope off him. Mum finally looked up, her eyes shiny, her lips still trembling.

“He didn’t suspect a thing,” Father said. His voice was low, shaky, but there was relief in it. He even tried to smile, though it barely lasted a second.

I didn’t say anything. My heart was still racing, my hands cold and sweaty. I could still feel Luca’s touch on my chin, still hear his voice in my head.

Maybe Father was right—maybe Luca hadn’t suspected anything.

The church ceremony went by like a blur. I barely remembered the vows or the music or even the part where Luca slid the ring onto my finger. Everything felt distant, like I was watching someone else’s life happen right in front of me. My palms were sweating the whole time. I was scared he would notice something, that he’d see through the lie and put a bullet in our heads right there in front of everyone.

When it was finally over, I felt dizzy with relief. But it didn’t last long. The reception started almost immediately, and people were everywhere—smiling, laughing, taking pictures, clinking glasses. Guests flowed left and right, congratulating us like this was some fairytale love story.

Luca stood beside me, calm and unreadable as always. He shook hands, nodded, smiled just enough to be polite. I copied him, forcing myself to smile too, my cheeks already aching. Every second felt like a test. Every time someone said my name—Denise—my heart skipped a beat.

After a while, Luca excused himself and walked away to talk to a group of men in dark suits. The air around me finally loosened, and I could breathe again. I reached for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, my hand trembling just a little. I took a sip, the bubbles sharp on my tongue, and let out a shaky breath.

“Denise!” a voice called behind me.

I turned quickly and saw a young woman heading straight toward me, her face lighting up like she’d just found her long-lost sister. Before I could even react, she threw her arms around me in a tight hug.

I froze, my mind racing. I didn’t know her—but she clearly knew Denise.

“Congratulations!” she gushed, pulling back to look at me. “I still can’t believe you’re actually married! And to him of all people! You hit the jackpot, girl.”

I forced a small laugh, hoping it sounded natural. “Thank you for coming,” I said, my voice soft but steady.

She smiled, totally unaware of the panic twisting inside me. “So tell me,” she said, leaning closer like we were sharing a secret, “now that you’re Mrs. Romano, are you still going to come clubbing with us? Or are you officially too fancy for that?”

I didn’t even have to think about it. I already knew what Denise would say.

“Of course I’ll still come,” I said, forcing a brighter smile. “Why would I stop?”

She laughed, tossing her hair back, but then something changed. Her smile froze, then slowly faded. Her eyes shifted past me, and she straightened up fast, like she’d just been caught doing something wrong.

Before I could ask what was wrong, she mumbled something about seeing me later and hurried away.

That’s when I felt it—the heavy presence behind me.

I turned slowly and found Luca standing there. He was close. Too close. His expression was unreadable, calm but sharp, like a blade hidden in silk.

“Oh really,” he said, his tone soft but mocking.

My throat went dry.

Then he leaned in just slightly, his eyes fixed on mine. “Tell me,” he said quietly, “where is your sister?”

For a second, my whole body froze. My heart stuttered in my chest, my palms went cold, and every sound around me faded. Had he found out? Did he know I wasn’t Denise? My mouth opened, but no words came out. I couldn’t even breathe.

And then—clink.

The sharp sound of a glass tapping broke through the silence. A man’s voice rose above the chatter, cheerful and booming.

“To Luca Romano and his beautiful new wife! May their marriage be long and filled with happiness!”

Everyone turned toward him, waiting for the toast to end. I managed a shaky smile, ready to lift my glass, pretending everything was normal.

But before anyone could cheer, the first gunshot rang out.

Bang.

Dahlia’s POV

The sound ripped through the hall—loud, sharp, and terrifying. For a moment, no one moved. Then another shot followed, and another. Glass shattered, people screamed, and the whole room broke into chaos. Guests scattered in every direction, tables flipped, chairs crashed to the ground.

My heart stopped. My legs felt weak. I didn’t even know where to run.

Then I felt a strong hand grab my arm. I gasped as I was yanked down to the floor, my glass slipping from my fingers and shattering beside me.

“Lay low,” Luca growled, his voice deep and rough in my ear. His body pressed close, shielding me. The scent of gunpowder and cologne filled my nose, and my pulse pounded so hard it hurt.

I ducked my head, trembling as more shots echoed through the air. Screams bounced off the walls, and all I could see were flashes of movement—men in suits running, people crying, and Luca’s cold eyes scanning the room like he was ready to kill whoever came near us.

Somewhere deep inside me, one thought kept repeating over and over.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

From his waistband, Luca drew a sleek black gun. My breath caught. I couldn’t look away as he stood up, tall and steady, his body still between me and the chaos. The sound of his gun filled the air—sharp, deafening cracks that made my ears ring and my stomach twist.

All around us, his men moved fast, like they’d done this a hundred times before. They pulled out their weapons, shouting to each other as they returned fire. Tables flipped over, wood splintering as bullets tore through them. I pressed my face to the floor, shaking so badly my teeth chattered. My heart slammed against my ribs, too fast, too loud.

Then I looked up—and saw him.

Luca. My husband. The man I had just married.

He stood there like the world around him wasn’t falling apart. Calm. Cold. Completely in control. His hand didn’t even tremble as he fired another shot. And when one of the attackers fell, Luca didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. He just turned slightly, scanning for the next one.

It was like watching death itself move through the room.

His dark eyes moved around the room, checking everything like he was counting the danger one by one. He didn’t look scared at all. Not even a little. He just started giving orders, calm and serious, and his men listened to him immediately. They moved quickly, cleaning up the mess and securing the place like they had done this a hundred times before.

I stood there shaking. My hands were on my face and I could barely breathe. My heart was racing so fast it hurt. Everything felt unreal—the noise, the smell, the fear. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

Then he reached for me.

His hand wrapped around mine—warm and strong. I felt it right through me, like a small shock that made my breath catch. His grip wasn’t rough. It was firm, steady, like he was saying without words that I was safe now. I didn’t know why, but that made me want to cry.

He pulled me to my feet, slow but sure. I stumbled because the floor was slippery with broken candles and petals, but he didn’t let go. He held my arm and kept me close, guiding me through the mess like it was nothing. My wedding dress was heavy and tangled, brushing against my legs, and I could feel sweat sticking it to my skin.

The black Range Rover was parked just ahead, shining under the broken lights like something out of a different world.

Luca walked beside me, his steps long and confident. His men were all around us, their faces serious, holding guns and watching every corner. The air smelled like gunpowder and smoke, mixed with the faint scent of flowers that somehow survived all of it.

I didn’t say a word. I just followed him, trying not to think, trying not to fall apart.

After what felt like forever, even though it was probably just a few minutes, we got to his mansion. It was huge. The walls were dark, the gates tall and heavy, and the windows shone like mirrors in the sunlight. The driveway was long, with neat green bushes on both sides. I felt a shiver run through me as I looked at the house. This was where I was supposed to stay now. With him. Alone.

My stomach twisted just thinking about it. I had only just met this man. I had only said “yes” because I had to. And now I was supposed to live in his house, like his wife. What if he didn’t believe I was Denise? What if he found out the truth and decided to kill me?

When he opened the car door for me, I didn’t move right away. My legs felt weak. I looked around, scared, not sure what to do. Then Luca looked at me. His dark eyes were calm but serious, and when he said, “Come,” his voice was soft but firm. I couldn’t say no.

I stepped out of the car. The gravel made a crunching sound under my shoes. The air was cool and made me shiver again. Each step toward the house felt heavier than the last. I felt so small next to him, so scared and unsure.

Inside, the house was even bigger. The air felt cold and quiet. The floors were shiny, and the furniture looked really expensive. Everything looked perfect—too perfect. Like a place where I didn’t belong.

An older woman came out from one of the halls. Her hair was gray and tied up neatly. She wore a black dress that looked like a uniform. Her face was calm, but her eyes looked sharp, like she noticed everything.

“Mr. Romano,” she said in a soft voice, bowing her head.

Luca didn’t smile. He didn’t even nod. He just said, “Take her upstairs.”

The woman looked at me, waiting. I slowly started walking toward her, my heart beating fast.

Then, his hand closed over mine. Strong. Commanding. Warm. But when I looked at him, my chest froze.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t soften his gaze. He just leaned a fraction closer and said words that made my stomach twist painfully:

“Go upstairs and wait for me… naked.”

Dahlia’s POV

Time seemed to stop. My mouth went dry. My legs felt like they had turned to jelly. I couldn’t think. I wanted to pull my hand away, to step back, to scream, but the fear in his eyes and the power in his voice made me freeze in place.

My heart raced so fast it felt like it would explode. What… what did he just say? I thought, my mind spinning. Is he serious? Is this real?

The housekeeper glanced at him and then back at me. She didn’t say anything, didn’t blink. It was as if she expected me to obey without question.

I could feel the weight of Luca’s gaze on me, dark and intense, like he was watching not just my body, but my thoughts too. Every instinct in me screamed to run, but the thought of leaving the house, of disobeying him, was terrifying.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry, trying to steady my shaking legs. My mind raced with a million thoughts: I just met this man. I barely know him. And now… now he’s asking me to… My stomach churned, and cold sweat broke out across my skin.

I forced my legs to move, one shaky step at a time, following the housekeeper who walked quietly in front of me. She didn’t look back to check on me, but somehow I could feel she knew how scared I was. The silence wrapped around us, making the sound of our footsteps louder, almost too loud. My heels clicked softly against the marble floor, and every sound seemed to bounce off the tall walls of the mansion.

Finally, she stopped at one of the doors near the end of the hallway. It was tall and made of dark wood, with a gold handle that caught the light. She turned to me, her expression calm, though there was something in her eyes—something I couldn’t quite name.

“My name is Mrs. Cruz,” she said softly, her voice calm and almost motherly, though I could tell she was choosing her words carefully. “This is Mr. Romano’s room… and yours as well.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, though the words sounded thin and broken, like they weren’t really mine.

I reached for the golden handle with trembling fingers, trying to steady my breathing, but before I could push the door open, Mrs. Cruz leaned closer. Her face softened, and for the first time I saw real emotion in her eyes.

“Obey Mr. Romano,” she whispered, her tone quiet, almost secretive, like she didn’t want anyone else to hear. But there was sympathy in her voice, heavy and clear, like she was warning me and pitying me at the same time.

Without another word, she stepped back and gave me a small nod before walking away, her footsteps fading down the long hall.

With a small push, I forced the door open, the hinges groaning softly like they were warning me not to enter.

The room stretched out before me like something out of a nightmare and a dream at the same time. It was massive, too big for one person. The walls were painted in dark, brooding colors—shadows clung to the corners as if even the light from the chandelier above dared not chase them away. A faint smell of expensive cologne lingered in the air, mixed with leather and something metallic I couldn’t name, but it made my stomach twist.

My eyes landed on the bed, and I froze. It was huge, draped in sheets so dark they almost blended with the shadows. The headboard was tall, carved wood that looked older than me, and the pillows were arranged perfectly, not a crease out of place. The bed was the kind of thing that demanded attention, like it knew what it was meant for. My cheeks burned at the thought, and my heart thumped louder.

Go upstairs and wait for me. Naked.

His words kept playing in my head again and again until I felt lightheaded. I stood there in the middle of the room, shaking a little, my hands cold and clammy. My fingers reached for the zipper at the back of my wedding dress. I touched it, felt the cool metal under my skin, but I couldn’t pull it down. I just couldn’t. My chest felt tight, and it was suddenly hard to breathe.

I turned away from the mirror and walked to the big window instead. The view outside was beautiful—tall trees, a wide driveway, the sun slowly setting—but all I could think was what if I ran? What if I just opened that window and jumped out? Could I make it? Would anyone stop me?

My thoughts were all over the place when the sound of the door opening made me freeze. My heart jumped to my throat.

“Denise,” his voice said from behind me. Deep. Calm. Dangerous.

For a moment, I didn’t even answer. I had forgotten that was supposed to be my name now. When I finally turned around, he was standing by the door, still in his black suit, still as stone. His eyes—dark, unreadable—found me instantly. The air in the room shifted, heavy and cold.

“Why are you still wearing your clothes?” His voice was low, quiet—but it carried through the room like a threat. “Did you not hear what I told you to do?”