It was summer time when you went to stay at your grandmother’s house. Her home was near the ocean and surrounded by quiet mountains. The place was peaceful, except for one thing. In the middle of the area stood a huge mansion. People said it belonged to a mafia family, and no one dared to go near it.

One afternoon, you put on your hat and smiled at your grandmother.

“Grandma, I will just take a walk for a while,” you said.

“Do not go too far,” she replied. “Be careful.”

You walked along the familiar path that passed the mountain and led to the ocean. It was the same route you used when you were younger, your favorite spot by the sea.

Halfway there, everything changed.

A loud gunshot echoed through the air. You stopped walking. Before you could turn away, you saw a tall, handsome man standing a few steps away from you. He held a gun in his hand. Another man fell to the ground in front of him.

You did not scream. You could not move. Your body froze in shock.

The man turned and looked at you. His eyes were cold. He raised his gun and pointed it at you.

Seeing you frozen, he walked closer. He lifted the gun and placed it under your chin.

Your hands shook, but you forced yourself to act. You slowly reached out in front of you, pretending not to see.

“Who is there,” you asked with a trembling voice. “Who was it.”

He paused. “What are you doing here,” he asked.

“I just wanted some fresh air,” you replied softly. “I heard a gunshot. Is everything okay.”

He studied your face closely. Then he lifted the gun under your chin again.

“You have a pretty face,” he said calmly. “Since you heard the gunshot, I cannot let you go. You are coming with me.”

You swallowed hard and nodded. You had no choice.

Later, you learned his name. Marcello Martini. The heir of the mafia family that owned the mansion.

He brought you to the mansion that everyone feared. You were terrified and stayed silent, following him wherever he led you. From that day on, you pretended to be blind. You walked slowly and carefully, using a cane to guide yourself.

When you were allowed to see your grandmother, you explained everything to her in private. She was shocked and worried for your safety, but she understood. She agreed to cooperate and told Marcello that you had been blind since childhood.

Marcello listened politely, but his eyes never left you.

Every day, he stayed close. He watched how you walked. How you moved. How you reacted to sounds.He never left you alone.

One evening, he spoke quietly while standing beside you. He leaned down until your foreheads touched.

“Do you know why I did not kill you that day,” he asked.

You shook your head.

He took the cane from you and leaned it against the wall.

“You do not need this anymore,” he said.

Your breath shook. “What do you want from me.”

He paused. Long enough for your heart to ache.

“I want you,” he said simply.

“That is not an answer,” you whispered.

“It is the only one,” he replied. “I want you beside me. In my house. Under my name.”

Your eyes widened. “You are asking me to marry a stranger.”

He smiled faintly. “No. I am asking you to marry the man who will keep you alive.”

“That is not love,” you said.

“Love is optional,” he said quietly. “Loyalty is not.”

“You cannot decide my life,” you whispered.

“I already did,” he replied. “The moment you enter to my life and chose silence.”

You shook your head. “If I refuse.”

His thumb brushed your cheek, not threatening, not gentle.

“Then I will still protect you,” he said. “Still keep you. Still make sure no one touches you.”

“That sounds like a prison,” you said.

He leaned down, his voice low and steady.

“No,” he said. “That sounds like marriage.”