The Mafia's Chosen Bride

f pages breaking the silence of the room. A servant ent

door. He insists on seeing his daugh

chair. "The one he sold off?" he

ds stung like a lash, stripping away the fragile composure she had managed to hold onto. A flicker o

t Alex's gaze. Her voice, though steady,

its weight pressing against her chest as she walked out of th

emotions-resentment, curiosity, and a lingering sense of duty. When the door opened, there stood

he pulled her into an embrace. She allowed it, her bo

dress, the fine fabric and elegant design unmistakably expensive. A flash of somet

eating enough? Do they respect you?" he

eplied flatly, her tone neit

You know, Isabella, it's important to... keep your husband and his family happy. Such fam

implication of his words. "I'm doing my

o something more conspiratorial. "Remember, Isabella, families like the Morettis can op

"Thank you for your concern, Papa," she said simply,

room for further discussion. He bowed his head slightly and walked away, h

Alex appeared, crossing her path with

aid, his voice co

sked, her brows k

th me," he said, his tone l

s curt orders, feeling like a chess piece being moved on a board she barely understood. But

even glance at Isabella as he walked toward the car, making it clear that she was just an afterthought to hi

was unreadable, his focus fixed on the road ahead, and Isabella couldn't help but feel the weight of the silence pressing down on her. She stole

gh status, the kind of people who spoke in a language of wealth and influence, terrified her. She had lived her life in the shadows of such opulence, never partaking in its l

we going?" Her voice was soft, almost too quiet,

n still as cold as ever. "Don't worry about it," he mutt

ng in her gut. She knew better than to push him

ked in a perfectly orchestrated lineup. The grand entrance was lined with marble pillars, and a lon

the vast space, casting a golden glow on the polished floors. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfum

ople exchanged curious glances, whispering among themselves. It wasn't every day that Alex Moretti, the heir to the Moretti family fortune, brought a woman to one of these high-profile events. Isabella sto

thers. Whispers buzzed through the room like an electric current. Who was thi

like a spectacle than a guest. But she tried her best to stand tall, to ignore th