Alessia
I woke up with a pounding headache.
Not just from stress, but from the suffocating weight of what today meant.
My wedding day.
I swallowed against the knot forming in my throat. I had spent the last twelve hours trying to convince myself that I could go through with this, that I could stand next to Dante, say the vows, and pretend to be the perfect bride.
But it was just like turning myself into a prisoner.
I couldn't imagine being tied to Dante forever, unable to move freely, unable to uncover the truth on my own terms. I needed to escape no matter what.
A sharp knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.
Before I could respond, the heavy door creaked open, and a tall, poised woman strode in, her presence as cold as ice. She was followed by two younger maids carrying wedding dresses, their arms draped with layers of lace, silk, and embroidery.
The woman's calculating eyes swept over me before she spoke.
"My name is Eleanor. I will be overseeing your preparations today." Her tone was clipped, controlled even. "These are Lucia and Maribel. They will be assisting you."
I barely spared the maids a glance.
What was the point of knowing their names? In a few hours, I wouldn't be here.
Instead of examining the extravagant gowns, I walked straight to the rack, then picked the plainest dress, and turned to face them.
"This one."
Eleanor's sharp features tightened in disapproval. "Miss Alessia, surely you'd prefer—"
"I don't care," I cut in. "Just get on with it."
Lucia and Maribel exchanged nervous glances. Eleanor's icy composure cracked for a second, her eyes narrowing as if she were seeing through me. What was the need of dressing extravagantly to a wedding I didn't want? I rather save myself the work.
I ignored her scrutiny and let them do their work. Within an hour, I was dressed, my hair pinned back in soft curls, my makeup enhancing the face of a woman who didn't belong to herself anymore.
I stared at my reflection. This isn't me. Tears formed in my eyes as the only person that came to my mind was Dad, under no circumstances, on a day like this he should be here but he was no more.
The thought made my stomach twist. I stiffened, wiping my tears, making sure my makeup wasn't smurged.
The door creaked open again, and I turned—Dante.
He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, taking me in from head to toe.
A slow smirk curved his lips. "You look… different."
I arched a brow. "Different?"
He stepped closer, eyes glinting with something unreadable.
"Less like a woman going to war and more like a bride."
I scoffed, turning back to the mirror.
"Well, that's a shame. Because I still feel like I'm going to war."
Dante chuckled, his deep voice settling in my chest like an unsettling melody.
"And yet, you picked the dullest dress in the collection."
I met his gaze through the mirror. "What does it matter? You already have me. Isn't that enough?"
Something showed in his expression, amusement then curiosity.
"I never took you for the type to surrender so easily."
I turned to face him, ignoring the way my pulse jumped when he reached out, tucking a stray curl behind my ear.
"I wouldn't call this surrender," I said softly.
His fingers lingered near my jaw. "No?"
I tilted my head slightly, eyes locking onto his. "No. I'd call it romance"
For a second, it was as if thr world stopped. Dante was used to women bending to his will, and yet here I was bending just enough to make him believe he had me right where he wanted.
His smirk deepened, like he was savoring a game he didn't fully understand yet.
"I like that," he murmured. "A woman who knows how to play."
I swallowed hard. "Then let's see who wins."
Dante chuckled again but didn't respond. Instead, he offered his arm.
"Shall we?"
I hesitated before slipping my hand around his. It felt suffocating to be this close to him, but I had no choice. I needed him to trust me, to think I had accepted my fate.
But I hadn't.
Because tonight—I would be gone.
…..
The ceremony started as the usual wedding would.
Everything was grand, elegant, and filled with people I barely knew—mafia families, high-profile figures, people who whispered about me as if I were nothing more than a pawn in Dante's empire.
I went through the motions, my face calm, my words measured.
And then, just as the reception started fully, I executed my plan.
I had spent the past few hours watching, waiting, finding the right moment.
Dante was occupied, speaking with his men. His grip on me had loosened, his confidence in my submission growing. I watched carefully, making sure his mind was absent.
I excused myself quietly, walking toward the private garden. The second I was out of sight, I ran.
I darted through the back corridors, my dress billowing around me. I had memorized the estate's layout, taking note of security shifts and blind spots.
But even then, I knew escaping undetected was impossible.
So I had to make them believe I was dead.
Near the edge of the estate, I reached the cliffside—one that overlooked a violent, thrashing river below.
I tore off my veil, letting it drift into the wind. I removed my shoes, leaving them near the edge.
Then, with a deep breath, I jumped.
The cold water swallowed me instantly. But I refused to sink.
The current was vicious, dragging me under, twisting me through the darkness. I fought against it. Every pull, every drag only fueled the fire in my chest, I would rise and I would survive. When I finally resurfaced, I was miles away.
I crawled onto the riverbank, gasping, shivering, but alive.
I didn't hesitate. I staggered to my feet and disappeared into the shadows.
Alessia Romano was dead. That would be the headline soon.
But the woman I would become?
She would be the one to destroy and bring Dante down.