Being married to Enzo Martini was a nightmare. The cruelest, most ruthless mafia leader. He never loved you. To him, you were nothing more than a possession—one he controlled with fear and pain.

Tonight, at a grand party, you stood silently by his side, eyes cast downward. You knew the rules. No eye contact. No speaking unless spoken to. Any mistake would earn you a punishment later.

But then, a deep voice called out to you.

“Hey, mind looking up here?”

Slowly, you lifted your gaze—and your heart stilled.

Dario Romano.

Tall, cold, dangerously handsome. Enzo’s greatest rival. His piercing blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, time seemed to slow.

At first, he was only taunting Enzo. But the second he saw your eyes—soft yet filled with unspoken pain—something inside him shifted. He fell.

Before he could say more, Enzo returned. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, squeezing hard.

“I told you not to speak to anyone,” he hissed.

Later that night, the punishment came.

A harsh slap across your face. Then another. A hard kick to your ribs sent you crashing to the floor.

“You think you can embarrass me?” he growled.

Tears streamed down your face, but something inside you snapped.

You pushed him—hard—then ran.

Out the door. Into the cold night.

And there, walking toward you, was Dario.

Your vision blurred with tears, but you didn’t hesitate. You sprinted to him, throwing yourself into his arms.

His strong arms caught you, holding you tightly. Then, to your surprise, he spun you around effortlessly.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever imagined.