A Bride Chosen by Fate

What a joke.

I heard that line plenty, but it was always my dad laying it on someone else.

However, that day, the tables turned, and I was the one with a target on my back.

Little did she know that the Vito family owed its clout to my father's backing.

In that town, nobody could make me eat my words.

A smirk played at the edge of my lips. "Who's making that racket like a wild animal? Bernardo himself wouldn't have the guts to talk to me that way."

"Who are you calling an animal?" Liliana shrieked, her voice laced with rage.

"Does anyone else here sound like they're howling at the moon?"

"You, you're nothing but trash!"

Liliana, red with anger, swung her arm at me in a blind fury.

Pathetic.

As the Olivieri family's one and only heir.

Dad had me training with fighting instructors since I was a kid. Against a poser like Liliana, I could take on three with one hand tied behind my back.

Her hand barely reached out before I snatched her wrist. A swift side kick sent her crashing to the floor.

Liliana's face went white as a sheet, sweat beading on her brow.

"Look at that, you really did a face-plant after I called you an animal. How thoughtful."

Scrambling up, Liliana pointed at me, her finger trembling:

"You lowlife, you'll regret touching me, just you wait!"

I shot back, my voice icy: "Keep spewing trash, and I'll make sure you regret it."

My glare was enough to silence her; she could not muster another word.

Ignoring her, I picked up the black card off the ground, bought the gown I came for, and got ready to head out.

However, there was Liliana, blocking my way again.

Her nagging wore my patience thin.

I was about to give her a shove with my foot when suddenly,

"Stop!"

A deep voice echoed from behind me. Liliana dashed toward it, her face twisted in distress.

"Bernardo, what took you so long? She's the one who took the dress I wanted, and she's been picking on me."

I spun around, my heart skipping a beat.

A man, flanked by bodyguards, approached. His black suit was the epitome of bespoke elegance, the collar casually undone, revealing a glimpse of the Mediterranean in his deep blue eyes, framed by golden locks.

Above all, it was his face: sharp, chiseled, a masterpiece even the heavens would envy.

Dad knew me well; I have always been a sucker for a pretty face.

For him, I was willing to give it another shot.

I flashed a grin and reached out my hand. "Hi, I'm Cecilia. Your bride-to-be."

Bernardo looked at me with a sneer. "You think you, in your pitiful state, are fit to marry me? You're not even worth shining my shoes. Dream on."

His contempt was like a splash of icy water, steadying my pulse.

"Miss your toothbrush this morning, or is your breath always this stinky? Didn't anyone teach you manners?" I shot back.

Bernardo's face clouded over. "Manners? As if you're worthy of any.

"I don't care what sleazy means. You convinced my father to agree to this marriage, but I'll never take you as my wife."

Liliana, hanging off Bernardo's arm, sneered at me. "That's right, you don't hold a candle to Bernardo!"

The crowd chimed in, their voices dripping with mockery:

"Look at her, dressed worse than a maid, dreaming of marrying into the Vito family. Ridiculous!"

"Absolutely! She can't even compare to Ms. Conti's little finger!"

My attire was modest, nothing like the ragged pauper they made me out to be.

It turned out that this world always sided with the mighty and the affluent.

Locking eyes with Bernardo, I declared with conviction, "Even if you're ready to marry, I have no intention of marrying you! Tell your father the deal's off!"