The ceremony was perfectly staged. A lavishly decorated altar, white roses everywhere, and the dim flicker of candlelight reflecting off the polished barrels of the armed men’s guns. It could have been a fairytale wedding—if it weren’t a cold, arranged deal.

You stood motionless, like a captured queen in your dress. Your husband, Salvatore, a notorious Mafia boss, exuded authority. His black suit was impeccable, and his dark eyes regarded you with a mix of possession and pride.

But you had a plan. When the priest prompted you to lift the chalice and drink, you let a single drop of invisible poison slide into the wine. You prayed it would act quickly, before anyone could suspect a thing.

Salvatore drank. His hand trembled briefly, then he collapsed to the ground, struggling to breathe. A soft gasp rippled through the crowd, the air suddenly crackling with tension.

Salvatore’s men drew their weapons, every barrel aimed at you. You didn’t flinch. Before anyone could pull the trigger, Salvatore raised a trembling hand, his voice hoarse but firm enough to freeze every gun in its place

“No one touches her but me!”