The Mafia's Chosen Bride

Isabella stood before the full-length mirror, her breath shallow as she took in the sight of herself. The silk of her wedding gown shimmered under the bright lights, the intricate lacework and pearls tracing delicate patterns across her pale skin. The gown, an ethereal creation in white and ivory, was so meticulously crafted that it seemed to breathe with her every movement. It clung to her slender frame, hugging her curves before flaring out into a voluminous skirt, the layers of tulle and satin giving her the appearance of a princess caught in a dream.

The diamond-studded tiara perched delicately on her crown, her dark brown hair twisted into soft curls that framed her face. Her eyes, deep and captivating, were slightly wide and nervous, and the intensity of her emotions was only hinted at by the subtle tremor of her lips.

She looked like a vision, like someone who belonged in a fairy tale, but as Isabella gazed into the mirror, the reflection felt like a stranger's. The woman before her was a bride, yes, but she was not a woman in love. She was a pawn, a girl caught in the snare of a world far more dangerous and complex than anything she could have imagined. Her pulse quickened as she adjusted the veil that cascaded down from the tiara, the soft lace brushing against her fingertips. Despite the team of skilled professionals - makeup artists, hairstylists, and seamstresses - working around her, perfecting every detail, there was a coldness in her chest. Every touch, every glance from them felt as though it was a reminder of the inevitable. Her hands trembled, not from the weight of the dress, but from the weight of what this day meant.

"Are you ready, Isabella?" the stylist asked, her voice too bright, too cheery, as she fluffed the gown one last time. The question was a mere formality, but Isabella didn't trust herself to speak. She nodded mutely, unable to mask the storm of emotions swirling within her.

"Ah, my daughter looks so beautiful, she's absolutely shining on her big day," Francesca cooed, smiling warmly at the stylists who were putting the final touches on Isabella.

"Your daughter is truly stunning, ma'am," one of the stylists said, admiring Isabella's reflection in the mirror.

"After all, she is my daughter," Francesca replied with a soft chuckle, her voice filled with an odd pride as her gaze lingered on Isabella.

Turning her eyes back to her stepdaughter, Francesca's smile deepened. "Come on, my girl, let's not keep your groom waiting, hmm?" Her words hung in the air, light and sweet, but Isabella could feel the veiled sharpness in them. Her own eyes, empty and tired, met her stepmother's in the mirror for a fleeting second before she rose from the chair and moved toward the door.

"Good girl," Francesca muttered under her breath, her smile curving into something just a shade too satisfied.

Her younger brother, Luca, stood beside her, his innocent face drawn with concern. He was too young to fully understand the weight of this moment, but he could feel the tension in the air, and the sadness in his sister's eyes. He reached out to take her hand, squeezing it gently. Isabella looked down at him, trying to offer him a smile, but his expression didn't change. He knew, as she did, that today was the day her life would change forever.

Outside the dressing room, the wedding hall awaited. The grandeur of the venue seemed to stretch beyond the horizon. A towering space, adorned with lavish floral arrangements that spilled out like waterfalls of roses and lilies, glowing under the brilliant crystal chandeliers. The walls gleamed with gold accents, and the floors were polished to a high sheen, reflecting the intricate designs of the carpets. The guests, all impeccably dressed, whispered amongst themselves, their voices rising and falling like the tide. Expensive suits, designer gowns, and sparkling jewellery decorated the room, but Isabella barely noticed. She was too absorbed in the suffocating reality of the moment.

As she stepped into the hall, the entire room seemed to stop and stare. Her beauty did not go unnoticed. Murmurs of awe rippled through the crowd. Some guests tried to hide their admiration, while others couldn't tear their eyes away. It wasn't just the gown, though it was stunning. It was Isabella herself - the delicate grace she carried, the way her presence seemed to fill the space with an almost ethereal energy. The men stared openly, their eyes drawn to her in ways that made her skin crawl. Giovanni Moretti's gaze, dark and predatory, lingered on her as she approached him, his eyes darkening ever so slightly as he admired his prize. A faint, almost imperceptible tinge of lust flickered in his expression before he masked it with a well-practiced smile. He was pleased. But the sight of Isabella's beauty only made her feel more like a piece of property - something to be admired but never truly valued.

Her father, Luigi Benedetti, stood by the altar, his expression vacant. He seemed more absorbed in the crowd than the ceremony itself, his bloodshot eyes and disheveled appearance offering a stark contrast to the lavish surroundings. He was proud, yes, but there was no joy, no pride in his daughter. This was a business deal to him, not a celebration of marriage. He smiled faintly, nodding as Isabella reached the altar. His mind was already elsewhere, thinking of how this marriage would solve his debts and the chaos he had created.

But it was Luca who caught Isabella's attention as the ceremony began. He stood quietly beside her, his small frame in a perfectly tailored suit. But his face, so full of sadness, tore at her heart. He clutched her hand, squeezing it tight, as if trying to hold her back from something terrible. She could feel his unease, his silent protest, and it made her want to cry. But she didn't. She couldn't. Not today.

The priest's voice began to fill the air as the ceremony started, and Isabella tried to focus on the words being spoken. Giovanni stood at her side, beaming as though he were the happiest man alive. His voice, when he spoke his vows, was smooth and practiced, every word dripping with authority and control. But Isabella wasn't listening. She was lost in her own thoughts, counting the seconds until the nightmare would end. But then, just as the priest was about to pronounce them husband and wife, a sudden, unexpected voice rang out across the hall.

"I object."

The words rang out like a shot, sharp and unexpected, cutting through the silence and halting the ceremony in an instant. All heads turned toward the man who had spoken, Alessandro. He stepped forward, his tall frame imposing as his gaze fixed on his father, unwavering and defiant. A murmur spread through the crowd as Alessandro's voice filled the air with steely determination.

Giovanni's face twisted with fury, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed he might crack a tooth. "What are you doing, Alessandro?" he spat, his voice barely concealing his rage. "This is not your decision."

Alessandro's smirk didn't waver. "I'm simply wondering how many sins you can commit in one day, Father," he said with mocking disdain, glancing dismissively at the gathered guests. "A marriage in front of your own wife?"

The room fell into an uneasy silence as all eyes turned to Giovanni's wife, Caterina, who sat with her chin high, her gaze cool and unflinching. She was dressed in resplendent attire, her poise exuding authority as she observed the scene unfolding before her. Her lips curved into a faint smile as Alessandro gestured toward her.

"Mother's very much alive, as you can all see," Alessandro continued, turning his gaze to Giovanni. "How can you marry another in her presence?"

Giovanni's jaw tightened, fury flashing in his eyes. "Enough, Alessandro. You have no right to interfere."

"Oh, but I think I do," Alessandro replied, crossing his arms. His gaze flicked to Isabella, lingering for a brief moment before he turned back to his father with open disdain. "Especially when it involves a young girl who's nothing more than another one of your business transactions. You're practically buying her."

At his words, whispers broke out among the guests, a cacophony of shocked murmurs rippling through the hall. Isabella's pulse pounded in her ears as Alessandro's words rang out, exposing the ugly truth behind her fate.

Alessandro chuckled darkly, his voice cutting through the noise. "I thought our family upheld traditions. And here you are, treating a human being like currency."

His mother's voice, calm yet sharp, rang out next. "Oh, Alessandro, darling," Caterina said with a laugh, barely hiding her contempt. "Your father has never truly understood tradition, let alone morality." She delicately covered her mouth as if to stifle a laugh, her amusement adding to the tension.

Giovanni's face turned a shade darker. "Enough, Caterina," he snapped.

Alessandro took a deep breath, steeling himself. "This isn't fair to you, Mother"

Isabella's father, Luigi, jumped in, his voice nervous and pleading. "Giovanni, please. This marriage is our only hope. It's the only way out of our... financial difficulties. She has no choice."

Alessandro's face darkened as he cast a disdainful look at Luigi. "Our problems? Or your problems? You're willing to sell your daughter to cover your debts?" His voice was a mixture of disgust and disbelief. "If you're desperate for a solution, pay back what you owe without sacrificing her."

Giovanni's voice rose, slicing through the tense silence. "Enough! I've given Luigi enough time, and he's failed. I'll take what's owed to me in the form of his daughter. She's my right."

"Yes, yes..." Luigi stammered, a desperate smile stretching across his face. "She's here to serve you, Giovanni. Anything you want..."

The words were barely out of Luigi's mouth when Alessandro shot him a look of pure contempt. "Do you have no shame?" he demanded.

Giovanni's hand clenched into a fist. "Watch your mouth, Alessandro!" he warned, his voice a deadly whisper.

Caterina's gaze lingered on Isabella, calculating, before she turned to the priest. "Perhaps a different solution is in order,"She stepped forward, her gaze sliding over the entire scene with calm detachment.

"Why not marry her to Alessandro?" she suggested smoothly, her eyes flicking to Isabella before landing on Sophia, Alessandro's fiancée, with a slight, mocking smile. "It would save everyone the trouble. After all, she's much closer to his age."

she said, her tone laced with authority. "Alessandro will marry Isabella. Let the debt be settled that way."

The crowd gasped, whispers breaking out around the room. Sophia, Alessandro's fiancée, went pale, her eyes widening in horror.

Alessandro looked to his mother, stunned. "Mother, what are you saying? This-this is insane."

Caterina's mouth curled in a faint, satisfied smile. "Insane? Or reasonable? If your father is so adamant, perhaps this arrangement could finally make sense. After all, we're here to solve a problem, aren't we?"

Giovanni scowled, but the spark of intrigue in his eye betrayed a moment of interest. "Marrying Isabella to Alessandro... it would keep everything in the family," he muttered, half to himself.

Sophia's face fell, and she hurried to Alessandro's side, clutching his arm tightly. "Alex, please," she whispered, her voice shaking, trying to pull him back from this madness. "What are you doing? Let it go. Let this... marriage happen. It doesn't involve you."

Alessandro shook his head, anger and confusion twisting his expression. "No. I can't stand by and let this happen, Sophia. It's-this isn't right."

"I've made my decision," Caterina interrupted, her voice booming with authority. "Isabella will marry Alessandro. The debt will be settled."

"No! You can't!" Sophia cried, her voice breaking as she stared at Giovanni. "He's promised to me. This... this isn't fair!"

Giovanni turned to her with a cold gaze. "No one asked for your opinion, Sophia. This is a family matter."

Alessandro looked to his father, furious. "You don't control me. You don't decide who I marry!"

The room fell into tense silence, and for a moment, Isabella could only stand there, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the world spun around her. The voices grew distant, blending into a hollow roar that pulsed against her skull, heavy and suffocating. Her pulse thundered as the weight of everything bore down on her, the injustice, the desperation, the sheer helplessness of her situation. Her knees gave way as her vision darkened, and with one last shuddering breath, Isabella collapsed, her world slipping into darkness.