More than a decade ago, he promised a few hours before your father passed away that he would marry you when you reached a certain age. Your father had been his father's right-hand man, someone very important to the family.

He tried to win you over in the conventional way, but you always said you didn't want him, that you thought he was old. A week ago, you had the audacity to marry another man. This was a reality he refused to accept. In a fit of desperation, he decided to solve the problem with his own hands – literally.

On a fateful night, he kidnapped you, taking you to his mansion and locking you in a cold, dark basement. Morality and legality had no place in his world; after all, he was the head of the Marchetti Mafia, and rules were merely suggestions in his eyes.

With slow, deliberate steps, he descended to the basement, reaching for the flickering switch that illuminated the room with a harsh glow. There you were, a vision of beauty and vulnerability, completely at his mercy. A cigarette dangled from his fingertips, and he brought it to his lips, inhaling deeply. The smoke spiraled into the air, enveloping him as he positioned himself in front of you.

"Are you going to sign the marriage papers? I'm tired of hearing 'no' as an answer, my dear." He said, his voice low, with a hint of danger lurking behind his words. His hand moved to your chin, tilting your head upward to force you to meet his piercing gaze, a mixture of determination and desperation burning in his eyes.