Page 48 of Dark Mafia Bride

“Do you even feel anything about this, Ettore? About us, whatever that even is?”

For a moment, he hesitates, then his expression softens ever so slightly. “Feelings aren’t something I can afford, Mira. Not in my world.”

“Your world,” I repeat bitterly, shaking my head. “And now you’re dragging me into it.

I can’t do this. The lies, the secrets, the manipulation...it’s too much. I take in the sight of Ettore, looking every inch the pristine businessman. But I know there’s so much more beneath that polished exterior, so much he’s not letting me see.

Abruzzi’s warnings echo in my mind, and I hate that I’m even thinking about him now. I hate that I still remember every twisted thing he did. But as I look at Ettore, I notice the similarities. They’re both liars, manipulators, murderers.

And me? I’m just a pawn in their games. I was one for Abruzzi when I owed him, and he had me under his control. Now I’m in the same situation but with a different man. Ettore will use everything he has against me. His power, his money, and now, even my own family. I used to think my husband saved me from Abruzzi’s claws, but now I realize he just did exactly what Abruzzi has been doing for the past year. I was right about thecontract being a power move to force me into a situation where I would have to feel powerless and indebted to him.

I don’t know how I got here, how I found myself trapped between two men who thrive on my misery, two men who use my desperation to play and use me.

I take a shaky breath, my anger bubbling over. “You are a monster,” I spit, barely able to keep my voice steady.

Ettore’s jaw tightens, and I can see him thinking, weighing his response. Finally, he says, “I never claimed I wasn’t. But I offered you a deal you couldn’t resist. You had the choice to accept or refuse it. You accepted. Your signature is on that contract…”

“You fucking manipulated me!” I exhale my voice cracking as I remember how easily he had trapped me with the fine print. The clause, buried deep in that contract, was a cruel weapon—one I never saw coming.

“And you tried to escape me,” he fires back, his voice sharp. “On the morning of our wedding, no less. I must admit, you did a good job slipping away.” His tone lowers, taking on a dangerous edge as he steps closer. “Though if it hadn’t been for the distraction of the wedding preparations, you wouldn’t have made it past my gate alive.”

“For someone who always boasts about keeping me safe, you sure have a funny way of showing it. Your entire staff didn’t even notice the bride escaping. Is this how you protect me? By letting me slip through your fingers like that?” I sneer. “You’re a joke, Ettore. A pathetic, controlling joke.”

“It’s unfortunate you feel that way,” he snaps. “But too bad—you already signed the contract. There’s no escaping this.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I hate that he’s right. But it wasn’t just the contract I signed—it was the life I never agreed to.

“You don’t get it,” I snap back, barely able to hold back the tears. “I didn’t even read the damned contract! I was forced into it without a lawyer present! It’s all legal jargon and clauses to which I never agreed.”

A sudden realization hits me—my family wasn’t even told what he was doing. He dragged them to that chapel without their consent, without their knowledge. They were worried about this whole thing at first, but they had no idea what was really happening behind the scenes.

“You—” My voice shakes as I point a finger at him, “You tricked my family. They didn’t have to know about the contract, about your plans, and you didn’t even care check with me first.”

Ettore’s expression remains cold, but there’s a flicker of something—a twisted satisfaction, perhaps? He’s basking in the moment, enjoying how he’s managed to corner me, how everything has unfolded exactly as he planned. His eyes gleam with the quiet pride of someone who’s orchestrated every detail.

“You signed, Mirabella,” he repeats. “You signed, and now you live with the consequences of your decisions.”

I swallow, my throat tight with rage. “I didn’t know,” I whisper, barely able to breathe. “I didn’t know what I was getting into. I thought I was choosing the lesser evil. But you—you’re a monster. A liar. You trap people with your twisted games.”

His lips twitch into a mocking smile. “And yet, here you are. Still here, trying to fight your way out of it. Tell me, Mirabella, did you really think you could ever escape me? This was always going to be your fate.”

“God, I hate you.”

Ettore’s expression remains stoic, but the glint of something darker in his eyes speaks volumes. He takes a step closer, his towering presence oppressive, suffocating. “I’m not really fond of you either, darling,” he says, his tone almost mocking. “But it’s far too late to cancel everything now, isn’t it? So, what’s it goingto be? You either pay me back the hundred grand you owe, or you marry me. And I’ll give you very little time to decide.”

I think about the consequences, about how all of this will play out if I refuse. I already tried to run away once—where did that get me? Nowhere. Back in this cage, back under his control. Staying behind and trying to pay off the money? That’s as pointless as trying to escape again. If I had only read that damned contract instead of getting caught up in the high of rubbing my victory in Abruzzi’s face, I wouldn’t be here. But here I am, stuck, trapped in a mess of my own making.

Still, there must be something to salvage from all this. What are the good sides? The money. The wealth. A rich, ridiculously handsome husband who could give me a life of comfort—at least until I can make my own way. Once I’ve weathered this storm, I’ll be able to walk away with enough to set something up for myself, something real. Something that’s mine.

I should be looking at the bright side. I should be planning how to turn this into my own advantage. And then, the thought hits me like a spark:When life hands you lemons, you make fucking lemonade.

Maybe I can’t escape this now. But maybe I can twist it, shape it, use it to my advantage.I’m not a victim. Not anymore.

“I won’t be your trophy wife, your mistress, or some obedient partner,” I say firmly, flashes of that night we shared flooding my mind. I can’t deny the chemistry, the pull we’ve had—no matter how much I despise him for trapping me.

How are we supposed to coexist under these circumstances?

He tilts his head slightly, his lips curling into a slow, almost amused smile. “Fine. State your terms here and now,” he replies, crossing his arms, a challenge glimmering in his eyes. “What do you want, Mirabella?”

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