Page 2 of His Bride

I jerk away from his touch. “Understand what? That my own father is forcing me to marry a criminal? A monster?”

“Dante Rossi is a powerful man,” Giovanni says, his voice low and urgent. “This alliance could save us all.”

“At what cost?” I cry, tears stinging my eyes. “My freedom? My future?”

“Sometimes we must make sacrifices for the greater good,” he says, but the words ring hollow.

I laugh bitterly. “The greater good? Or your good, Papa?”

His expression hardens. “Watch your tone, young lady. I am still your father.”

“A father who’s supposed to protect me,” I retort. “Not throw me to the wolves.”

My father’s jaw clenches. “This isn’t up for debate, Adriana. The decision has been made.”

I sink onto my bed, the fight draining out of me. “When?” I ask defeatedly.

“The engagement will be announced this Saturday,” he replies. “The wedding will follow soon after.”

My head spins. This can’t be real. It has to be a nightmare. I’ll wake up any moment, safe in my bed, with my whole life still ahead of me.

But the weight of my father’s hand on my shoulder anchors me to this harsh reality.

“Please,” I plead, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. “Don’t do this. There has to be another way.”

For a moment, I see a flicker of doubt in his eyes. A crack in his resolve. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that same steely determination.

“There is no other way,” he says firmly. “This is our last chance, Adriana. Our only chance.”

I turn away, unable to bear the sight of him any longer. My gaze falls on my tablet, the unfinished webtoon still glowing on the screen. The cherry blossom petal frozen mid-drift, never to complete its journey.

Just like my own story, cut short before it even began.

“Get out,” I mutter.

“Adriana-”

“Get out!” I scream, grabbing the nearest object - a delicate porcelain figurine - and hurling it at the wall. It shatters, fragments scattering across the floor like my shattered dreams.

My father retreats, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

I collapse onto my bed, sobs wracking my body. The soft pillows muffle my cries, but they can’t silence the storm raging in my mind.

Dante Rossi. My future husband. A man I’ve never met, whose reputation precedes him like a dark cloud.

What will become of me in his world of violence and corruption? Will I be a wife or a prisoner? A partner or a possession?

I curl into myself, trying to make sense of this new reality. But every thought leads back to the same terrifying conclusion: my life as I know it is over.

The gentle ping of my tablet draws my attention. A notification from my art program, reminding me of the unfinished work waiting for me.

I stare at the screen, at the world I’ve created with my own hands. A world of beauty and possibility, now beyond my reach.

With trembling fingers, I pick up the stylus. One last time, I tell myself. One last moment in this world before it’s taken from me forever.

The cherry blossom petal comes to life under my touch, completing its journey across the digital landscape. A bittersweet metaphor for my own truncated path.

As I work, my tears slowly subside. In their place, a cold resolve begins to form. If this is to be my fate, I won’t go into it meekly. I may not have a choice in this marriage, but I’ll be damned if I let it break me.

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