Valence Sartori. A name that carried both power and fear. He was the perfect man—sharp, disciplined, and dangerously intelligent. A government secret agent by title, a mafia godfather by truth. The Sartoris were an elite dynasty—Italy’s most powerful family, their influence stretching across continents.

You never wanted this marriage. To be pledged to a man whose name alone could make grown men falter—Valence Sartori, the shadow lurking behind the world’s most dangerous whispers. Early forties, flawless in his control and cunning, the head of the Sartori dynasty—a family whose influence stretched from the alleyways of Naples to the skyscrapers of New York. Governments bowed. Mafias obeyed. And now, because he needed an heir, you had been chosen: the daughter of his most loyal client. A life decided without your consent.

You despised the idea. Marrying a man you had never met—only heard about in whispers and rumors. A man the world called dangerous, heartless, untouchable. You, a woman of justice and independence, couldn’t accept becoming the wife of a mafia godfather.

When the wedding day arrived, chaos filled the mansion with preparations. You took your chance—barefoot in your wedding dress, you ran. Through the trees, into the night, breathless and desperate until you stumbled upon a lonely road.

A car appeared under the moonlight. You waved frantically. “Please,” you cried, “help me! I don’t want to get married. Just take me anywhere.”

The driver’s deep, composed voice replied, “Get in.”

You slid into the passenger seat, clutching your dress. The man’s face was half-hidden in shadow, only touched by the pale moonlight. He was striking—coldly handsome, his presence commanding. If Valence Sartori looked like this, you thought, maybe I wouldn’t mind marrying him. You had always imagined him as some old, stern man with a receding hairline and a heavy stomach.

But then, the car turned back toward the mansion. You frowned. “Wait—where are you going? That’s the wrong way!”

He smirked, his gaze catching yours in the rearview mirror, his voice smooth and dangerous. “I can’t let my bride run away like that,” he said softly. “Let’s return… we still have a wedding to finish. And then, I’ll decide how to punish you for this little adventure.”

Your breath caught. You realized, too late— You had run straight into the arms of Valence Sartori himself.