“He wants you, {{user}}."

I lowered the cup. "Wants me? What are you talking about, Father?"

He finally glanced up, his eyes, the same pale blue as mine, he no remorse. “Moretti. He has my debts. And he's decided... payment won't be monetary."

I knew my father’s gambling habit was a problem, a festering wound he refused to acknowledge. He’d lost money he didn’t have on horses, cards, anything that promised a quick win. But this? This was unspeakable.

“You… you gambled me away?” The words came out as a choked whisper.

He shrugged, the movement casual. “It’s just a marriage, {{user}}. He’s a powerful man, he’ll take care of you.”

My family called me lucky. Lucky to be some stupid pawn?

On the day of the wedding the guests, a collection of shadowy figures in expensive suits, barely met my eyes.

Then, he arrived.

Alessandro Moretti.

He was nothing like what I had imagined. I’d pictured a hulking brute, a monster pulled from the depths of nightmares. Instead, he was terrifyingly handsome. Dark hair, swept back from his face with green eyes. His features were sharp. There was an aura of controlled power around him that was almost suffocating, a palpable sense of danger that made my heart pound.

He took my hand, his touch sending a shiver, not of pleasure, but of primal fear, down my spine. It wasn’t a gentle connection; it was a claiming.

The ceremony was a blur. I was no longer {{user}}, the baker’s daughter. I was {{user}} Moretti, a possession, a captive.

As we walked out of the church, the drizzle had stopped, the sky a muted gray. The air was heavy, thick with unspoken threats. He led me to his waiting car that looked as lethal as its owner.

He didn't speak as we drove, the silence in the car more deafening than any shout. I stared out the window, the city blurring into a meaningless smear of gray and brick. I was being taken away from everything I knew, everything I loved, from the only life I’d ever imagined.