The city never slept. I could see that much from the window of my bedroom, looking out at the skyline that glittered with too many lights to count. It was like the whole world was alive and pulsing, the buildings reaching up like claws, ready to grab everything in sight. The cars below were little streaks of light, moving fast, almost like they were afraid of something—maybe the same thing I was afraid of.
My name is Serafina Moretti. I'm eighteen years old, the daughter of one of the most powerful mafia families in the city, the Moretti Family. And my life has always been a cage—golden bars, but a cage nonetheless.
The Morettis controlled everything—everything that mattered, anyway. They owned businesses, buildings, politicians, and even the law itself. My father, Don Giovanni Moretti, was the head of it all. He didn't just run the show; he was the show. And for years, I had lived under his shadow, sheltered from the bloodshed that was the foundation of his empire, but never fully free. Not really.
Every day, I woke up in my room, the one with the view that made everything look perfect, like a movie scene, with rich tapestries and silken sheets. Everything was perfect. Everything except me.
I didn't ask for this life. I didn't ask to be born into a family where loyalty was everything and violence was the only language people understood. But that's exactly what it was. Even though my father kept me away from the darkest parts of our business—away from the drugs, the guns, the killings—he never let me forget what I was. What my family was. A Moretti. And Morettis didn't question things.
But deep down, I did.
I loved my family. I loved my father. I didn't know how to be anything but his daughter. But the more I learned, the more I saw, the more I realized I didn't want any part of it. I didn't want to be the daughter of a man who shook hands with politicians by day and had people disappeared by night. I didn't want to wear the heavy necklace of power and fear that my last name carried. I wanted out. But leaving wasn't an option. Not when the family owned you.
I sighed as I pushed away from the window and walked over to my closet, a custom-built monstrosity of oak and velvet, stocked with more dresses than I'd ever wear in a lifetime. But I didn't care about them anymore. Clothes were just another way for my father to control how I looked, how I presented myself. He wanted me to be perfect. To be the perfect picture of his success. The perfect, obedient daughter.
Today, though, was not going to be about perfection.
I tugged on the sleeves of my dress as I stood in front of the mirror. It was deep blue, elegant, and just the right amount of daring with a low back. Too daring, really, for the kind of world I lived in. But my father loved seeing me like this—pretty, polished, ready to play the part.
Downstairs, I could already hear the voices of the guests arriving, muffled by the thick marble floors and the long, winding corridors that led to the ballroom. It was the night of the family's annual gala—a big affair that brought together politicians, business tycoons, celebrities, and all of our associates from across the city. But tonight was more than just a party. This wasn't about the champagne or the music or the laughter.
This was about my future.
I took one last look in the mirror and turned away, taking a deep breath. I could do this. I had to do this.
As I walked down the grand staircase, the soft hum of conversation grew louder, and I spotted my father immediately, standing tall at the center of the room. He was a striking man, older now but still strong, with sharp features and dark eyes that never missed a thing. Even as I approached him, I could feel his eyes on me, evaluating, assessing. A brief smile tugged at his lips as he saw me, and I stiffened.
"Serafina, you look beautiful, as always." His voice was low, commanding, as though the words carried a weight far heavier than a compliment. I nodded and kissed his cheek, careful not to show anything but respect.
"Thank you, Father."
The room was packed, but all I could focus on was him. I'd been in the mafia's world long enough to know how everything worked. My father had always kept me in the lightest part of it—private schools, parties, vacations, and business meetings where I sat quietly at his side and smiled for the cameras. But the moment I turned eighteen, the weight of my last name became more of a burden. I'd known it was coming, but tonight was the night he'd make it official.
"Serafina," he said again, his voice clipped and full of authority. He turned toward the guests, motioning for their attention. "I'd like to make an announcement."
I stood beside him, trying to ignore the sensation of dread creeping up my spine. The grand chandelier overhead sparkled like diamonds, casting glittering light across the room, but I felt like I was standing in the middle of a storm.
"As you all know," my father continued, "my daughter is now of age. And it is time for her to take her place beside me in this family's empire." He paused for effect, watching as murmurs rippled through the crowd. I felt their eyes on me—curious, judgmental, expectant.
My heart pounded in my chest, but I forced myself to stay calm, to smile. I could almost feel my father's grip tightening around me, like the chains were slowly tightening with every word he spoke.
"I have decided that it is time for Serafina to marry," he announced, his voice echoing off the walls. "And after careful consideration, I have chosen a suitor who will help secure our family's future."
I froze. I knew what was coming, but hearing it out loud made the reality hit me like a ton of bricks.
"Her betrothal will be to Vincenzo Moretti, the heir to the Ferrante family."
My mind went blank. Vincenzo. The Ferrantes. Another mafia family, one of the biggest rivals we had. They were ruthless, cold, and their world was just as violent as ours. I knew Vincenzo from a distance, from family gatherings and brief conversations, but I had never thought of him as anything more than a name—a name that now seemed to own me.
"Father, I—"
But my words were lost in the wave of congratulations and clinking glasses. People were already congratulating me, offering their good wishes, but I couldn't hear them. I couldn't breathe. It wasn't just an engagement; it was a contract, a bond.
I wasn't just being married off. I was being sold, packaged into the perfect picture of a mafia princess, all for power, all for control. This was what I had always known was coming, but I had never thought it would feel this suffocating.
I could feel my father's hand on my back, guiding me, leading me through the crowd of smiling faces and shaking hands. They didn't know what this felt like. They didn't know what it was like to live in the shadow of a man who controlled everything.
"This is how it's done," I whispered to myself.
But I didn't believe it. Not anymore.
The night dragged on, the laughter echoing in the halls as I tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. The Moretti name had always been a crown on my head, but tonight, it felt more like a noose.
I had no choice, no escape. I had to be the perfect daughter, the perfect wife. Or else, the shadow would swallow me whole.
But what if the shadow wasn't the only thing that could control me?