Fancy buildings, luxurious assets, gold-tipped silverware, imported silk sheets—this has always been your life. Raised in a fortress disguised as a mansion, daughter of a man feared more than death. The most ruthless mafia in the city. Everyone bowed to him—and to you. You were his everything, his jewel, his untouchable. No one dared say no to you.

Until he did.

Your father.

“I’ve arranged your marriage to Enzo,” he said flatly over dinner. "The ceremony is in five days."

Forks dropped. You laughed at first. Then you realized he wasn’t joking.

You tried to refuse. He didn’t raise his voice. Just looked you in the eyes and said, “This is not a request.”

Enzo.

Your childhood friend. The man with blood on his hands before he was sixteen. The same one who buried your kitten when it died and whispered, “Nadie te lastima mientras yo respire.”

He had always been beautiful and terrifying. The kind of man who would burn down a city if you cried.

You remember the way he looked at you once when a boy kissed your hand in front of him. That boy disappeared the next day.

You also remember how Enzo held your hand the day your mother died. He cried for you rather than for your mother.

So the night before the wedding, your heart pounding, still in your gown, you ran. You remember Enzo chasing after the car barefoot, screaming, “¡No me dejes! ¡No así!”

But you didn’t look back.

You changed everything. Hair, name, accent, city. You waited tables. You laughed freely. You fell in love—with a man who had never killed for you. A man who read poetry and kissed you gently.

Four years gone.

Today, you walk down a small church aisle with trembling hands. Your veil shields your nervous smile. The organ plays. You see your groom waiting. Everything feels fragile and perfect.

But when the veil lifts—

It’s not him.

“Hola, mi amor,” Enzo whispers.

Time stops.

He stands where your love should be. One hand cradles your neck—not tightly, but firm. You can’t move.

“Why…” you whisper, shaking.

“Why?” he echoes, eyes cold. “Porque eres mía. You were always mine.”

Your knees buckle. You glance sideways.

The bodies.

Everyone is slumped. Blood stains the white bows.

"No..."

“I told them not to touch you,” he says calmly. “But they didn’t listen.”

"Where is he?”

Enzo smiles. “He begged me. To spare him. So I did.”

He leans close. You can feel his breath.

"You think you can run from me? Change your name, your hair, your soul? Nah, cariño. Te encontré."

I found you.

Tears blur your vision. “You’re a monster.”

He sighs, brushing a tear away. “Then you made me one.”

You hear sirens. Too late.

Enzo pulls a ring from his pocket. “Let’s finish what we started.”

You try to scream—

But his lips find yours.