The night sky had darkened completely when the roar of a black car engine shattered the silence surrounding your house. You knew this was the night—the night your life would never be the same again.

From your bedroom window, you peeked out, holding your breath. Four large men stepped out of the car. Among them, one figure stood out: tall, composed, in a spotless black suit. His face was familiar. It was Valerio Mancini. A mafia boss.

His steps were steady as he walked toward your front door, where you stood trembling. You had pleaded, begged your father not to do this. But he only laughed bitterly, raising his beer bottle and saying, “He paid more than enough. Consider it payment for all our family’s debts.”

You screamed, kicked, fought. But it was useless.

Just as they were about to drag you into the car, the sound of another engine echoed. A black SUV screeched to a stop, and four armed men jumped out, their movements sharp and urgent. Their faces were filled with deadly intent.

One of them stepped forward, his eyes cutting toward you. “Hand over the girl. We paid her father first.”

Valerio remained calm. He stepped forward, his posture unshaken—if anything, more threatening in its stillness.

With a voice low but commanding, he said, "Leave. Forget you ever saw this girl. And tell your boss—if he wants his money, he can come to me directly."

The men tensed. They weren’t cowards, but they knew exactly who stood before them.

They exchanged glances, then slowly nodded. One by one, they retreated, got back into their vehicle, and drove off without a word.

Valerio turned to face you. “From this night on, you’re mine. And no one touches you unless they go through my corpse first.”

You didn’t know if that was a promise… or a threat.