The Ugly Substitute Bride of the Mafia King

Seraphina POV The cruel, mocking laughter of the Soldiers bounced off the damp brick walls of the alley. I braced myself, waiting for the inevitable bullet that would punish my desperate lie. But the masked man pressed against me stiffened. The air around him suddenly plummeted in temperature, growing thick with a suffocating, lethal intent. The laughter died instantly. "Kneel," he rasped. He didn't shout, but the raw, gravelly word carried the absolute weight of a Don's Command. Enzo, the Capo who had just insulted me, turned deathly pale. Without a second of hesitation, he and the dozen armed men dropped to one knee, bowing their heads in absolute, terrified submission. The masked man turned his silver wolf visage toward me, his dark eyes burning into mine. "She is under my protection," he declared to his men, his voice a low, vibrating threat. "Touch her, and you will answer to me." I blinked, my heart hammering violently against my ribs. Why was this bleeding, dangerous stranger playing along with my fabricated story? "We're even," I managed to say, keeping my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. "Pay me so I can leave. I hope we never cross paths again." He stared at me for a long second before gesturing with his uninjured hand. A Soldier scrambled up, handing me a thick envelope of cash. I snatched it. But before turning away, my trained eyes flicked to his left wrist. During our forced embrace, I had noticed the faint, unnatural discoloration creeping beneath the metal of his expensive watch. I stepped closer, lowering my voice so only he could hear. "You should have your physician look at the skin under your watch. Some things are more fatal than a bullet." I didn't wait for his reaction. I turned and walked out of the alley, disappearing into the New York night. An hour later, the damp chill of Little Italy was replaced by the suffocating opulence of a luxury suite at The Plaza Hotel. The moment I stepped onto the thick Persian rug, my mother, Elena, rushed forward. She grabbed my hands, her perfectly manicured fingers digging into my skin. "Sera, darling," she cooed, squeezing out a fake tear. "We are so sorry for how cold we've been." Bianca, my beautiful, unscarred sister, sighed from the velvet sofa. "We heard Don Moretti is a ruthless, terrifying man, sister. Giving the engagement back to you... it's such an injustice. You're so brave to take my place." I stared at their perfectly painted faces. They were terrified of the rumors surrounding the Moretti family, thrilled to offer me up as the sacrificial lamb so the Castillo family could secure their alliance. I coldly pulled my hands from my mother's grasp. "Save the performance." The air in the room instantly soured. I was exhausted, my skin still crawling from the adrenaline of the alley. I was tired of being a pawn, waiting for the executioner's axe to fall. If I was going to enter the Moretti family to find the truth about my adoptive parents' deaths, I needed to stop cowering in the shadows. Ignoring my mother's offended gasp, I marched to the suite's heavy double doors and yanked them open. A Moretti Associate in a sharp suit stood guard in the hallway. "Inform Mr. Moretti that his fiancée wishes to see him," I said, my voice dripping with ice. "Now." Elena and Bianca practically stopped breathing. The Associate blinked in sheer shock at my audacity, but the unwavering resolve in my tone made him nod and pull out his phone. I left the door open and stood in the center of the room, waiting. Ten minutes later, heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor. The doorway darkened. My breath hitched. The man who stepped into the light of the crystal chandelier was tall, broad-shouldered, and clad in a perfectly tailored black suit. It was the dangerous stranger from the alley. He reached up and slowly pulled the silver wolf mask from his face. My blood turned to ice. Beneath the mask was a face carved from marble-strikingly handsome, yet brutally cold. His dark, intense eyes, the same ones that had stared at me in the shadows, locked onto mine with a terrifying, possessive hunger. The bleeding stranger I had saved was Damien Moretti.