When The Devil Fell For The Wrong Bride

Ariella's POV

My head was still aching from a night of restless sleep. The morning light cut through the heavy curtains, spilling onto the marble floor in golden stripes.

And the unfamiliar softness of the bed beneath me felt strange, as if it belonged to someone else.

I blinked as I scanned through the entire room. It was spotless, lavish, and suffocating at the same time, everything about this place screamed of wealth and power. The walls were decorated with gilded frames, and paintings of men in dark suits staring at me as if it knew somebody was inside.

Then I realized that I wasn't at home.

The air was filled with the smell of leather and something sharp. Guards stood in the shadowed hallways outside, their rifles polished, eyes alert. They were smart, cautious and accurate. They existed only to remind me that I was trapped.

I got up from the bed slowly, my toes brushing against the cold marble floor. I moved to the window, the sea stretching beyond the iron gates. Waves crashing violently, a rhythm of chaos that mirrored the pounding of my heart.

After some seconds, a knock at the door made me shiver and it brought me out of my thoughts. One of the guards stepped inside. His black eyes met mine, he never smiled. His expression looked serious.

“The Don will be with you anytime soon. Until then, stay in your quarters. Don't go anywhere.”

“Okay,” I whispered with a faint voice, barely loud enough for him to hear.

He nodded once, then left. The door clicked shut behind him, and silence took over the place again.

I sat back on the bed, trying to breathe. My mind refused to stay calm. I thought about Luciana, about the switch, about Vincenzo….. his presence haunted me. I could still feel it in my bones. The raw, dangerous energy of him standing on those marble steps, his tattoos coiling over his chest and arms like dark fire.

He wasn’t just a man. He was powerful himself. And I found myself standing inside it.

Hours passed as I paced inside the room, trying to calm my nerves. I didn’t know what would happen next until a soft knock came on the door.

When I opened the door, a young lady, maybe in her early twenties, walked in. She is beautiful.

Her black hair was pulled into a neat bun, a few loose strands falling against her soft cheeks. She wore a simple white blouse tucked into a pair of tight denim shorts that clung to her hips. The shorts were so short that she was almost naked and her blouse neckline hung too low.

It didn’t take long to realize she wasn’t dressed that way by choice. She looked like someone that is being used as a plaything. She looked innocent. Her smile was warm and gentle as if she was using it to hide her exhaustion.

Her eyes, deep brown and tired, held a softness I hadn’t seen since I left home.

“Good morning Angel. Don Moretti invites you for supper,” she said quietly, her voice smooth but careful. “Please, follow me.”

There was kindness in the way she spoke. I nodded, almost whispering, “Thank you.”

I followed her down the long marble hallway, my heart beating loud in my chest, the faint scent of perfume mixed with cigarette smoke hit my nose. She looked back, her lips curved into that same warm smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“You’ll be fine,” she murmured softly, like a secret meant only for me.

But I didn't have to believe her.

The dining hall was large, with a long table that could host an army. Vincenzo sat at one end, dressed in black suit. His gray eyes met mine the moment I entered. Marco sat beside him, playing with a knife like a child as if it was a toy. And at the center was Don Moretti himself. Their father.

His eyes were cold, sharp, and dangerous, the kind of eyes that saw right through lies.

“Sit,” Vincenzo said.

I sat down, my hands shaking slightly under the table. The silence between us was thick.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Marco said, a smirk showing at his lips. “I thought the Romano princess that I know had a sharper tongue.”

My heart skipped. I could see the suspicion in their face. “There’s a time to speak,” I managed to say, forcing Luciana’s arrogance into my voice, “and a time to keep quiet and observe.”

Don Moretti gave a short, humorless laugh that I could tell it didn't reach his heart.

“Hmm. Observation is good. But the Luciana I know doesn’t observe, she bites.”

I froze, pretending to sip my wine. My palms were soaked with sweat.

Vincenzo’s eyes never left me. He studied me every second, like a hawk studying its prey.

“You’re eating like you’ve never seen a table before.”

I swallowed hard.“I’m not hungry.”

Marco’s grin widened.

Their laughter came like slow poison, creeping under my skin. I tried to act stubborn, lifting my chin the way my sister always did. “Maybe I’ve changed,” I muttered.

The Don’s knife clinked against his glass. “People like us don’t change. We only hide.”

The air was so thick that I couldn't stay there anymore. My heart raced in my chest and I pushed the plate slightly away. “Excuse me,” I said, I stood up quickly. “I don’t feel well. I want to go and ease myself.”

I turned to leave, but I could feel Vincenzo’s eyes following me like a shadow. I barely made it to my room when I heard the sound of footsteps behind me, fast and angry.

“You think you can fool everybody huh?”

I froze.

He followed me inside my room. The storm in his eyes made my knees weak.

“I want you to tell me why you’re pretending?” he demanded.

“What do you mean I'm pretending?,” I lied, trying to sound defiant, to sound like Luciana like I didn't know he meant.

“Really?” He pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped the screen, and turned it toward me. My breath caught.

Luciana’s picture showed on the screen, her confident smile, her fiery eyes.

My voice broke. “I……”

He cut me off sharply. “Don’t speak. You think I wouldn’t know the difference? The woman in this picture would never lower her eyes. She would never show weakness in front of anyone.”

His voice caught Don Moretti and Marco's attention on the dinning. Immediately they stepped inside. Vincenzo showed them the picture.

I stepped back, my heart pounding like a drum. I thought he was going to bounce on me but he never did. “Please, I…..”

Before I could finish, Marco lunged forward. His hand gripped my hair so hard it burned. I screamed, my knees hitting the marble floor as he began to hit me.

“You little liar!” he snarled, yanking harder. “You think you can fool the Morettis, huh?”

“Marco, stop!” Vincenzo shouted with a loud voice that vibrated through the room, but Marco didn’t listen. His hand flew across my face, the slap resounding through the room.

I gasped, the pain spreading like fire through my cheek. Don Moretti just quietly at the doorway, watching. But there was no shock in his eyes. Only cold amusement.

“Enough!” Vincenzo’s voice roared again like thunder. He grabbed Marco by the collar and pulled him off me, shoving him against the wall.

“Touch her again, and I’ll break your damn neck,” he growled, his eyes burning with anger.

Marco jerked away, breathing hard. “You’re getting soft, bro. She’s just a Romano brat. And she deserved death for trying to fool.”

“Leave!” Vincenzo snapped.

Marco spat on the floor and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Don Moretti stepped closer to Vincenzo, his face looking disappointed. “You disappoint me, Vincenzo,” he said, his tone sharp as a knife. “This isn’t what I taught you. Weakness will ruin you.”

Vincenzo turned slowly, his voice low but firm. “She’s not the one who planned this. It’s her parents. And they’ll pay for the betrayal. We’ll return her quietly.”

Don Moretti stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded and walked away, while I lay on the floor, tears burning in my eyes.