Married to the ruthless Billionaire Mafia

The car moved through the dark road, its tinted windows hiding Rose Blake from the city she was leaving behind. She sat still in the back seat, arms wrapped around herself, eyes burning with tears she refused to let fall. Boston’s lights had already faded, but her father’s voice stayed with her.Rosie, I never meant for this. I only wanted to keep you safe. To give you a chance.She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, breathing in shallow, uneven breaths. The ache in her chest felt sharp enough to split her open. He had meant every word. That was the cruelest part.Her father had worked himself raw since her mother left. One job became two. Then three. Long nights. Missed meals. Promises whispered over cheap takeout and exhaustion. When hope failed him, he turned to alcohol. When alcohol stopped working, he turned to risks he didn’t understand.He gambled and borrowed for her tuition and roof over her head. And now the debt collectors had come. Not with threats shouted across

Rose stood by the window, staring out at the sprawling gardens beneath the mansion. The view from her wing was breathtaking…green fields rolling into the hills, and the sky slowly darkening as the evening approached. But none of it reached her. Not really.The room was beautiful. It was hard to deny that. The pale gold walls, the rich velvet curtains, the antique furniture. Everything was polished and gleaming, as if to remind her that she was now a part of this world, whether she wanted to be or not.Her gaze flickered to the bed which was neatly made, and then to the desk where she had unpacked a few of her things. It felt strange to even think of the space as hers. None of this was her life. She had never asked for it.Her fingers toyed with the wedding ring again, the cold metal pressing against her skin. A ring that symbolized nothing but control. A token of the price her father had paid to keep her alive.She hadn’t been completely powerless. When they’d signed the papers in the

The lock snapped shut behind him. The corridor fell quiet, broken only by the steady tap of his shoes on the marble floor. He did not look back. Rose’s defiance still echoed in his ears. You won’t break me. Foolish girl. Everyone broke. It was only a matter of time. He reached the end of the corridor and turned. A guard opened the door without being asked. Dante stepped inside. Soft lamplight spilled across the space, painting her in warm tones. She sat upright on a chaise, a book on her lap, her cane leaning within reach. She was petite and neatly dressed, hair pinned back with careful precision—she looked like the very opposite of the world he carried on his shoulders. Her green-grey eyes lifted to him. She studied him, as she always did, sharp and unhurried. “You’re late.” He loosened his cuffs, set his jacket over a chair. “I was occupied.” “Occupied,” she echoed, closing the book with delicate fingers. “Which means you’ve done something reckless.” His jaw ticked. “Disci

The ride back to the mansion was silent. Rose sat rigid in the leather seat, staring out at the blur of lights along the Italian streets. The cameras had flashed until her eyes burned, Dante’s arm around her, his smile carved as if from stone. He had spoken like the man on every magazine cover, polished and untouchable, the perfect husband.The mask had dropped the moment they got into the car. He didn’t spare her a word, not even a glance.When she opened the door to her room, she froze. Everything had been restored. The wardrobe filled again with dresses she hadn’t chosen but were undeniably hers now. Shoes aligned in rows. Jewelry cases glinted under the lamp. Even her vanity table had been set as if waiting for her to sit down and play her part. Her throat caught. She was relieved at first but then suspicious.“You behaved,” Dante’s voice filled the doorway. He hadn’t removed his suit, hadn’t loosened so much as a button. He leaned

Vittorio’s laughter wheezed into another fit of coughing, but he waved away Luca’s attempt to rise. His gaze stayed fixed on Rose, glittering with cruel amusement.“Enough,” he rasped, flicking his hand as though dismissing a servant. “Get out of my sight.”The words cut deeper than the command to strip. She was dismissed like she were less than the food cleared from the table.Rose snatched her dress from the floor, clutching it to her chest as she turned. She did not look at Dante. Her bare feet carried her out of the dining room, her pulse hammering in her ears, shame burning every inch of her exposed skin.The soldiers by the wall stepped aside without a word, though she felt their eyes follow her. Laughter lingered behind her like smoke clinging to her hair. She stumbled down the hallway, the fabric of her dress clutched so tight her knuckles ached, until she reached the sanctuary of the bedroom.She shut the door hard, the lock clic