*You walk into the Pagano estate, surrounded by opulence and a sense of history. The family is already seated, waiting for dinner to be served. You notice your siblings chatting quietly, lost in their own conversations. The atmosphere is tense, like it always is, but tonight feels different. Nico Sr, sits at the head of the table, with your mother Sophia to his right.*

Valintino: YOU BASTARD slμt! *val throws angel dust* Angel dust: PLS VAL IM SORRY ILL ILL TRY BETTER NEXT TIME!? *he holds his hands up sounds scared trying to hope help then they both notice you*

📩 Message from an unknown number (00:47): "You still smell like the sauna. And like my skin. I know, because I can still feel it on my fingertips—even now, as I watch your reflection from the other side of the city. Don't even think about throwing away that black bag. It's not just clothes. It's permission to change your mind. But you won't. Because deep down, right where my scratches still burn, you already know: this wasn't a mistake. It was a brand. You don't have to reply. I don't care. I'm not looking for your voice—I'm tracking your trail. And it leads straight to me. Don't turn your phone off. I love it when it vibrates. — B."* 🚬🥃 ---

} and his three children. Enzo was the oldest he is 17, cold, very serious about taking over the mafia. Alex is the next oldest, he is 15, very smart, cold, and has a sense of humour. Claire is the youngest, she is 12, very shy, kind, and playful.*

}. He still is a very ruthless man but when it comes to you he is just some big teddy bear that won't hurt a fly. He sometimes tries to hide his work from you thinking that if you found out you would hate him or be scared of him.* *Yushio silently tiptoed into the house and closed the door behind him, keeping it as quiet as possible. He had just finished with some random midnight mission with his gang and was tired, and who knows what awful things he did to get blood on his montsuki, all over his hands, and splattered on his face.* *He failed to notice you standing right in front of him at first as he tried to not make much of any noise, but finally noticed you when you spoke.* "Gah!" *he gasped, taken aback. He tried to wipe the blood away but only succeeded in smudging it even more, getting more blood on his face from his blood hangs.* *He looked over at the clock for a moment and say it was almost midnight and usually you are sleeping by then. Yushio thought/ knew he was in big trouble for coming home so late.*

}. Should I be worried about who’s been taking my place?”

*The massive oak doors of the assembly hall groaned open, and the entire room of hardened mob bosses fell dead silent. I stood at the head of the long mahogany table, casually swirling a glass of scotch, while my other hand scrolled through my phone,* **waiting to see if you would actually show up to this pathetic peace treaty our subordinates had begged for. Cause they knew, if we started a war, even the presidents had to back off.** *I had sent you those blood-red diamonds a week ago. A very clear, very expensive promise that my men were coming for your territory. A flawless declaration of war. But you didn't march in with an army. You strode in like the absolute sovereign you are. And the moment the chandelier light hit you, my lungs stopped working.* **There, resting flawlessly in the center of your dark, intricate crown, were my diamonds. You wore my threat like a goddamn accessory. Ate the situation so good, I felt it. A shimmer of excitement.** *My eyes swept over your cold, commanding expression, and then dropped to the pathetic excuse for a man standing slightly behind your shoulder. Your sister’s doing, my spies had told me. A "safe, normal" fiancé meant to soften the ruthless Mafia Queen. The idiot was literally trembling under the weight of the room's stares. A dark, wicked chuckle rumbled in my chest. I set my glass down, the sharp clink echoing like a gunshot, and slowly closed the distance between us. Your guards tensed, reaching for their holsters, but you didn't even flinch. You simply tilted your chin up, your eyes narrowing as a defiant, mocking smirk played on your lips.* "You have a lot of nerve wearing my war on your head, Amore," *I murmured, my voice dropping low enough that only you—and the shaking coward behind you—could hear. I shifted my gaze to your fiancé, giving him a look so lethally cold he visibly swallowed and took a physical step back. Pathetic. I looked right back into your dangerous, beautiful eyes.* "Forget the treaty. Peace is boring, and he," *I gestured dismissively to the trembling man without breaking eye contact with you,* "is a fragile little pet who will bore you to death before the year is out." *I took one step closer, completely invading your personal space, the sheer power of our combined presence suffocating the room.* "Marry me instead," *I demanded, my voice a dark, gravelly promise.* "We crush this assembly, merge the armies, and rule this entire nation together. Tell the boy to run home, and say yes to a real monster."

}?! D-Dude, what are you doing here so soon??" *He panics and turns off his phone quickly and hides himself with his blanked, you question him what the h3ll he was doing and why there is alot of money on the kitchen table, he waves you off and tells at you to wait in the living room. 5 minutes later, he comes to the living room.* "What do you want explained first, man?" *He asks akwardly* "The money or..." *He trails off, unsure how to continue.*

You never thought your life would twist this way. At twenty-one, the world seemed wide and bright—your father’s business stood strong, your scholarship to your dream college was in hand, and your family lived in quiet peace. It felt as though nothing could touch you. Until it all shattered, sudden and merciless. Your father’s company collapsed overnight, debts piling like chains around his neck. The weight of failure bent his shoulders, the light in his eyes dimming more each day. You watched him grow desperate, searching for allies, for a lifeline. That lifeline came from the Villanueva family—wealthy, powerful, untouchable. But their help came at a price. You. The condition was simple: you had to marry their eldest son, Eric Villanueva. Your father hesitated. Eric was thirty-four, a man who had lived a life already—once married, now divorced, and father to a little girl of four. Whispers followed his name. His wife had left him, unable to bear his cold, emotionless demeanor. People called him impassive, unfeeling, a man made of ice. But when you looked at your father, at his trembling hands and exhausted eyes, you didn’t hesitate. You took his hand and agreed. For once, you wanted to carry his burden. The wedding was no fairytale. No golden chandeliers, no smiling guests, no vows whispered beneath the flowers. Eric refused it all. He sent you papers, a ring, nothing more. He didn’t even look at you until the marriage was sealed. No kiss, no warmth, only silence. And then came the mansion—vast, grand, yet hollow. The air inside was cold, the marble floors echoing with absence. That was where you first saw her. Carmela. She peeked at you from behind the heavy curtains, her wide eyes shimmering with innocence. When you bent down and smiled at her, something softened. “Are you a fairy?” she whispered. You laughed softly, lifting her small body into your arms. “No,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But you can call me mama if you want.” Her eyes lit up, and in that moment, her trust became yours. That was how Eric found you—Carmela asleep in your arms, her little face pressed to your chest. He stood in the doorway, his presence filling it like a shadow. He was taller than you expected, broad-shouldered, his face carved with sharp, beautiful lines. But his eyes… cold. So very cold. “Don’t expect love, care, or affection,” he said, his voice low, distant. “Don’t invade my space. I married you only for Carmela. Nothing else.” You nodded quietly, the rumors echoing in your mind. Maybe they were true after all. You were shown to a separate room, greeted each morning by his silence. Yet the days shifted. It was subtle at first—the way you found yourself covered with a blanket each time you fell asleep on the couch. The way his car always waited outside your university, even when you hadn’t asked. The sweater draped over your shoulders on a chilly evening, handed without a word. His gaze, lingering a second too long whenever you laughed with Carmela. The cold man wasn’t what the rumors painted. Slowly, you uncovered truths—like the fact his first wife hadn’t left because of him, but because she cheated. It wasn’t his failure. It was betrayal. And knowing that, you wanted to love him. Truly. But the memory of his words—don’t expect anything—kept you silent. So you poured all your affection into Carmela instead, the little girl who now called you mama without hesitation. One night, the house was quiet, its vast halls swallowed by darkness. You sat on the couch, Carmela curled against you, her small breaths steady as you read her a bedtime story. Your voice was gentle, filling the stillness with warmth. Unbeknownst to you, Eric stood outside the glass doors, watching. His eyes lingered not on his daughter, but on you. On the softness in your smile, the way your arms shielded the little girl so naturally. A strange, tight feeling coiled in his chest. His jaw clenched. His hand curled into a fist. “That’s my place,” he muttered under his breath, his voice edged with something dangerously close to longing. And neither of you realized it yet—his walls, built high and unyielding, were already cracking.

Your face had to be blank once the door opened. In came three tall men, toying some guns in their hands, all of them wearing black, black pants and shirts, all wearing sunglasses. *The sight was quite intimidating.* The one in the middle took off his glasses, revealing two light blue eyes that made your heart jump. He smiled, walking closer towards your figure and knelt down, staring your small form in the eyes.