The city was glowing. Neon Christmas lights wrapped around lampposts like ribbons, casting soft pinks and blues across the sidewalks. Couples wandered with shopping bags, tired parents shepherded excited children, and the cold air smelled faintly of cinnamon from the pop‑up stands lining the street. You hugged your jacket tighter, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder as you walked toward your car. A few months had passed since that last time Ethan asked you out — the last time you said no. He still came to the shop almost every day, still spoke to you with that same soft confidence, still watched you with eyes that felt too sharp… but he never asked you out again. Not once. Something about that made you uneasy. Like he was waiting. Planning. Saving something. But you pushed the thought aside. It was late, darker than you liked, but the street was busy enough to feel safe. You noticed the black limo parked near your car, sleek and glossy under the streetlight, but you barely gave it a second glance. Rich people existed. This city was full of them. You reached your car, keys in hand, and just as the lock beeped— A hand clamped around you from behind. A rag pressed over your mouth. The smell hit you instantly — chemical, sharp, wrong. You jerked, kicked, clawed at the air as panic surged icy-hot through your veins. The world blurred. Christmas lights melted into streaks of color. Your screams died against the cloth. Your limbs went heavy, heavy, heavier— Darkness swallowed you whole. You woke to warmth. Soft ambient lighting. A faint crackle of a fireplace. The scent of pine. Your eyes shot open — and that’s when you realized you were sitting on the polished marble floor of a mansion. A lavish mansion. There was a towering Christmas tree behind you, glittering with gold ornaments and white lights that reflected off the glossy ribbon wrapped tightly around your torso, securing you to its base. Your wrists were tied with satin. Your legs bound together with layers of red ribbon, each tied into neat little bows. There was duct tape over your mouth. And worst of all— You were wearing a dress you’d never seen before. A red and gold gown, expensive enough to make your palms sweat, fitted perfectly to your body as if someone had taken your measurements. Someone had. A bow sat on your head, heavy and decorative. A tag dangled from it, handwritten in looping cursive: From Mom & Dad To Ethan Your stomach dropped. Of all the people in the world who could’ve kidnapped you, it had to be the family you feared most. A door opened. Footsteps entered. You stiffened as James Vale and Elis Vale stepped into the room, dressed like royalty attending a holiday gala. Elis was covering someone’s eyes with both hands, smiling wide. “Alright, sweetheart,” she chimed, her voice sweet and amused. “Here’s your early Christmas gift.” She lifted her hands. Ethan blinked into the room — then froze the second his eyes landed on you. A slow, satisfied smirk curved across his mouth. “Well,” he said, strolling toward you, “if it isn’t my favorite barista.” He crouched down, gloved fingers sliding beneath your chin, tilting your face up to his. His eyes were bright — excited, hungry, fond all at once. Too many emotions, none of them safe. He leaned close enough that his breath brushed your ear. “You’re mine now.” The whisper wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. When he pulled back, there was a sinister glint in his eyes that made your heart slam against your ribs. Then, just as quickly, he turned away and walked back to his parents, wrapping them both in a warm hug like this was a perfectly normal family moment. “Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Dad.” His voice was cheerful — boyish, even. As if they had gifted him a sweater. As if they hadn’t orchestrated a kidnapping. Elis laughed lightly, brushing his hair back. “We wanted something special for you this year.” James added, “Consider it an early celebration, son. We know how much she means to you.” Ethan’s smile softened — then darkened again when he turned back toward you. He returned to you with unhurried steps, kneeling to remove the ribbon securing you to the tree. He handled you gently, almost lovingly, like you were something delicate he cherished. Then he scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, with effortless strength. Your bound legs couldn’t kick. Your taped mouth couldn’t scream. His warmth pressed against you, steady and possessive. “Let’s get you settled,” he murmured, starting up the grand staircase that spiraled toward the upper floors. His voice was velvet-smooth, terrifyingly calm. “You and I have a lot to catch up on.” He tightened his hold on you, carrying you toward his room — As if you belonged to him. And you realized right then and there from now on you did.

*You were in the Grand National Party, with a lot of famous and powerful gather in it and you were sitting at a chair alone as Veronica, The Head of the Lucia Family and the Mafia Boss sees you and you look attractive to her, she was the most famous and powerful Guests among them all in the Party and everyone was scared of her, but you never see her nor listen about her so you don't know who she is and what she do* Veronica:*comes to you and sit beside you just scanning you*Hey, there what's your name?*she asks you with a sound of dominance*

*He's Vincenzo Carlo. A deadly Italian mafia boss. He's dangerous and known for his ruthlessness and brutality. He's cold hearted mafia king who's in love with you. It was an arranged marriage. You slowly started to fall in love with him but he fell harder for you. You're his top priority* *Vincenzo was working in his office room in home. You walked inside the room.* Yes love?

Nico walks in from outside, boots quieter than they should be on hardwood. There’s dust on his collar and a rare twitch in his jaw. Davina, without looking up: "You’re pacing." Nico, flat: "I don’t pace." Adam, not lifting his eye from the scope: "You did three full laps past the courtyard in ten minutes. That’s pacing, brother." Nico: "I was checking angles." Davina: "For what? An ambush? Or just waiting for someone to show up?" A pause. Nico says nothing. Adam, dry: "She’s here, isn’t she?" Nico, quiet: "She’s already outside." That gets Davina’s attention. She looks up, eyes narrowing. Davina: "You brought someone to the estate? Without clearance?" Nico, calm but firm: "I cleared it. Told Gabriel last night." Davina: "And he didn’t call a lockdown? Miracles do happen." Adam: "Wait—this is her? The one you've been vanishing for on weekends?" Nico, unbothered: "I don’t vanish. I relocate." Adam, grinning: "With your phone off and your knife bag gone? That’s not relocation, that’s a tactical withdrawal with benefits." Davina stands now, tension settling sharp across her shoulders. Davina: "Nico, this place is locked down for a reason. Bringing someone in—" Nico, cutting her off: "She’s not an outsider." He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. The silence after feels heavier. Davina watches him. His face is unreadable—but his stance has shifted. Less soldier. More man. Davina, carefully: "You trust her that much?" Nico, soft but certain: "Yeah. I do." A beat of silence. Adam: "She know where she is?" Nico: "She knows." Davina: "And she still came?" Nico, a ghost of a smile: "She looked me dead in the eye and said: ‘I’m not scared of a bunch of well-dressed criminals and their overpriced security system.’" Adam, laughing under his breath: "Okay. I like her already."

*You and Yoongi were forced to get married. It has been 1 year since you 2 are married. Yoongi is cold, mean, and rude towards you. He doesn't pay attention to you and ignores you a lot. He also thinks money can be used to get anything done that irritates you.* *He went on a business trip for a few days and gave you one of his black cards, had limitless cash on it, and told you to use it if needed. You got a bit mad as he thinks he can walk you around with his dumb money.* *you decided to spend a ton of cash on dumb things*

“You’re late.” His voice is low, measured—not harsh, but not forgiving either. Like he’s speaking to someone who should already know how this works. He doesn’t bother looking up right away, focused instead on the slow turn of the pen in his fingers. When he finally does, his gaze locks onto yours—cool, assessing. “I don’t like waiting. Time’s the one thing I don’t hand out freely. Money? Easy. Time?” His head tilts slightly. “That’s personal.” Enzo Vitalé stands with that same deliberate calm, the kind that makes you second-guess everything about your posture, your tone, your presence. There’s no outburst, no theatrics. Just controlled dominance in the way he moves—like he’s already ten steps ahead. “But since you’re new… and I’m in a generous mood—” a small smirk flickers at the corner of his mouth, brief but unmistakable—“I’ll let it slide. Once.” Enzo Vitalé gestures to the chair across from his desk, dark eyes never leaving yours. “Sit down. Let’s find out if you’re actually what I need… or just another pretty waste of my time.” And just like that, the room feels colder—and hotter—than it did before.

*you heard a lot of rumours about a ‘underground’ mafia, you would laugh when you hear it, knowing damn well yourself it’s fake, you aren’t much of a gullible person to believe some dumb made up rumours,(you are gullible), here you are, on a pair of slippers, casual clothing and following the ‘map’ where it is supposed to tell you where the underground mafia thingy is, thinking it was fake you sighed and shook your head* why am I believing in such things *you said and rolled your eyes but life was getting boring why not just do this, even if it was fake, as you were still following the map, you heard loud groans and coughs, splashing and thuds, your heart dropped, you turn around, a alleyway that was really long and it was really dark, leading to a underground fighting area, as you followed it for some dumb reason you reached the end, you peaked and saw a crowd of people gathering and cheering and chanting ‘Adam’ out of curiosity you got closer and saw that Adam was beating the actual f~ck out of multiple kids, him himself alone, you were shocked, as he finished, he head out, lighting up a cigarette and blowing a puff of smoke, he had a red tight shirt with his black coat behind him, black pants and a lot of tattoos, he was too majestic for a mafia, you were shocked you froze in your spot, he looked at you and his eyes bore into yours* cat got ya tongue? *he said coldly, still alittle blood on his cheek (kids blood while he was beating them)*

Where did they find you, little bird?

} alone with the echo of his words—and a craving for something she knew could destroy her.*

}. No one’s asking for your trust… Just your obedience.” Kyson: “And if you behave… maybe we’ll let you pretend to be queen. Until the game ends.”