Chapter 1 - The Wedding

The church bells rang loudly across the city as Elena Hart walked down the aisle in a gown heavy enough to feel like chains.

A white veil covered her face, hiding the fear swimming in her eyes while whispers spread through the cathedral like smoke.

“That’s the girl Damian Moretti chose?”

“Poor thing…”

At the end of the aisle stood the most dangerous man in the city.

Damian Moretti.

Cold. Untouchable. Feared.

And in a few minutes—

she would become his wife.

Elena tightened her trembling fingers around the bouquet, forcing herself to keep walking. Each step felt heavier than the last. The stained-glass windows painted colors across the marble floor, but nothing could soften the darkness waiting for her at the altar.

Damian’s dark eyes never left her.

Not for a second.

It wasn’t the gaze of a groom admiring his bride.

It was the gaze of a man finally claiming something that already belonged to him.

Elena stopped in front of him, her breathing uneven beneath the veil. Up close, he was even more terrifying. His tailored black suit fit him perfectly, his expression calm while the entire room seemed afraid to breathe around him.

The priest began speaking, but Elena barely heard the words.

Her heartbeat drowned everything out.

Finally, the question came.

“Do you, Elena Hart, take Damian Moretti to be your husband?”

Her throat tightened painfully.

This wasn’t love.

It was a contract.

A cage disguised as a marriage.

But her family’s debt hung around her neck like a noose.

Instead of crying, Elena bit the inside of her lip hard enough to ground herself and forced out a quiet—

“I do.”

For the first time that evening, a faint smirk touched Damian’s lips.

Then the priest turned toward him.

“And do you, Damian Moretti, take Elena Hart to be your wife?”

Damian looked directly into her eyes before answering softly,

“I do.”

The calmness in his voice unsettled her more than anger ever could.

The priest smiled nervously.

“Then I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

A hush fell over the cathedral.

Damian stepped forward slowly, one hand lifting to cup Elena’s soft face while the other settled firmly around her waist. His touch was warm despite the coldness everyone associated with him.

Before she could react, he pulled her gently against him.

Then he kissed her.

The room disappeared.

The kiss looked possessive from the outside—demanding, consuming—but to Elena’s surprise, it wasn’t rough. His lips moved against hers slowly, almost carefully, as though he were restraining himself.

And for one dangerous second…

her guard slipped.

Because the man everyone feared kissed her like she was something precious.

Then reality crashed back into her.

This was Damian Moretti.

The coldest man in the city.

A man powerful enough to make grown men tremble.

A man whispered about in fear behind closed doors.

A man rumored to destroy anyone who crossed him without a trace of guilt.

Fear tightened painfully in Elena’s chest.

Instinctively, she tried to pull away—

but Damian didn’t let her.

His arm tightened around her waist, effortlessly keeping her against him as the kiss deepened slightly. The movement wasn’t rough.

It was controlled.

Certain.

Like he already knew she wouldn’t escape him.

A soft gasp caught in her throat.

From this close, Elena could finally see him properly beneath the cathedral lights.

His eyes looked almost black in the shadows surrounding them—dark, endless, unreadable.

But when the light from the stained-glass windows touched his face, she caught the hidden color beneath them.

Hazel brown.

Warm enough to almost look human.

The discovery unsettled her more than it should have.

Because those eyes should not have been beautiful.

Not on a man like him.

Not on Damian Moretti.

His thumb brushed softly across her cheek while whispers spread throughout the cathedral. To everyone watching, it probably looked romantic.

Tender, even.

But Elena felt the possessiveness beneath every second of it.

Felt the terrifying restraint in the way he held her.

As though this version of Damian—

the calm, gentle one kissing her beneath the church lights—

was carefully chained back.

Finally, he pulled away slowly, though not far enough.

His forehead nearly brushed hers as his gaze lingered on her face.

Then, in a low voice only she could hear, he murmured—

“Don’t look at me like you already regret becoming my wife.”

Elena’s breath trembled.

Because the terrifying part was—

She did.

—-

The ride to the Moretti mansion was silent.

Elena sat beside Damian in the back of the long black car, her hands clasped tightly in her lap while the city lights blurred past the windows.

Neither of them spoke.

The weight of the wedding ring on her finger felt heavier with every passing minute.

Finally, the car slowed before enormous iron gates.

They opened slowly.

Elena’s breath caught.

The Moretti estate looked less like a mansion and more like a kingdom hidden away from the rest of the world. Endless stretches of land surrounded the property, the dark green lawn so massive it resembled an empty football field beneath the moonlight. Farther in the distance, she could see the shimmer of a lake stretching endlessly into the night.

Cold.

Beautiful.

Untouchable.

Just like its owner.

The car stopped before towering marble steps.

Before Elena could react, Damian stepped out first and opened the door for her himself.

The gesture should have felt gentlemanly.

Instead, it felt calculated.

Like everything he did.

Elena stepped out slowly, staring up at the massive estate towering above her.

“This is your home now,” Damian said quietly beside her.

The words made unease settle deeper into her chest.

Inside, the mansion was breathtaking.

Crystal chandeliers glowed overhead, their light reflecting against polished marble floors. Massive paintings lined the walls, expensive and elegant, while gold details decorated nearly every corner.

Everything screamed wealth.

Luxury.

Power.

Yet despite all its beauty…

the mansion felt empty.

Cold.

Like no real warmth had existed there for a very long time.

Elena hugged her arms unconsciously as her heels echoed softly through the grand entrance hall.

Suddenly, a man dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit approached them and bowed respectfully.

“Good evening, Madam Elena,” he greeted politely. “I am Butler Brian. I will be at your service from now on.”

Madam Elena.

The title sounded wrong.

Unfamiliar.

Before she could respond, another voice interrupted sharply.

“Mr. Moretti.”

A tall man in an expensive jade-green suit walked toward them quickly, his usually neat appearance slightly disheveled as though he had rushed there in a hurry.

“There’s a problem,” he said in a lower voice. “We need to talk.”

Damian’s expression darkened slightly.

For a moment, Elena thought he might ignore him.

Instead, Damian turned toward her.

The sudden softness in his gaze unsettled her immediately.

Without warning, he leaned down and pressed a light kiss against her forehead.

The intimate gesture caught her completely off guard.

“I’ll be back soon,” he murmured quietly against her skin.

Then his lips curved into the faintest smirk.

“Try not to miss me too much, wife.”

Heat rushed to Elena’s face before she could stop it.

Damian noticed.

Of course he noticed.

His hazel-brown eyes—dark enough to appear almost black beneath the dim lights—lingered on her reaction for a second longer before he added softly,

“Make yourself at home.”

Then he walked away with the man in the jade suit, their footsteps disappearing deeper into the mansion.

Leaving Elena alone inside a house that felt more like a beautiful prison.

Butler Brian led Elena up the grand staircase and through a long hallway lined with enormous windows and dim golden lights.

The deeper they walked into the mansion, the quieter it became.

Almost hauntingly quiet.

Finally, Brian stopped before two massive ivory doors decorated with gold carvings.

He pushed them open carefully.

Elena froze.

The room was enormous.

Soft candlelight reflected against cream-colored walls decorated with delicate gold arches and fresh white flowers arranged around the room like something from a royal palace. In the center stood a massive bed draped in silk and lace, its curtains falling elegantly around it.

Everything was breathtaking.

Beautiful.

And strangely lonely.

“This will be your room, Madam Elena,” Brian said politely.

Elena blinked in confusion.

“Mine?”

Her gaze instinctively moved toward the giant bed again before heat rose faintly to her cheeks.

She had assumed…

No.

Surely after the wedding—

“Mr. Moretti requested that you have your own room,” Brian explained calmly, almost as if he had expected her reaction. “He believed it would make you more comfortable than sharing a room with him immediately.”

Elena stared at him silently.

For some reason, that answer unsettled her more than if Damian had simply demanded they share one.

Because it meant he had thought about her comfort beforehand.

Which didn’t fit the image everyone painted of him.

Before she could think further, the doors suddenly opened again.

Five young women dressed in elegant maid uniforms entered quickly and bowed respectfully.

Elena stepped back slightly in surprise.

Brian adjusted his gloves neatly.

“These maids will attend to your needs from now on,” he explained. “For tonight, they will prepare your bath and assist you in getting ready for dinner with Mr. Moretti.”

Dinner.

The word made tension immediately return to Elena’s chest.

She had almost forgotten.

Soon, she would be alone with Damian again.

One of the maids smiled gently and approached her.

“This way, Madam.”

Elena hesitated before allowing herself to be guided farther into the luxurious room.

As the maids prepared everything around her, her gaze drifted toward the large windows overlooking the endless dark estate outside.

Somewhere in this massive mansion…

Damian Moretti was waiting for her.

And she still couldn’t decide which frightened her more—

his coldness…

or the moments when he unexpectedly wasn’t cold at all.

The maids moved quietly around Elena, carefully removing the heavy jewelry from her neck and wrists while warm water filled the enormous marble bathtub nearby.

Everything felt unreal.

The luxurious room.

The silk robes.

The servants calling her “Madam.”

It all felt like a beautiful dream she had never asked for.

Or maybe a nightmare disguised as one.

As the maids brushed out her hair and prepared oils and towels for her bath, Elena’s thoughts kept drifting back to Damian.

To the way he held her waist at the altar.

To the softness of his kiss.

To the unexpected gentleness in his voice.

None of it made sense.

She was supposed to fear him.

Everyone feared him.

Damian Moretti was cold, ruthless, untouchable.

So why did his smallest actions make warmth spread so dangerously through her chest?

Why did the memory of his lips against her forehead linger in her mind more than the terrifying things he said?

Elena clenched her hands tightly in her lap.

No.

This was exactly how people like him trapped others.

Warm gestures.

Careful touches.

False tenderness.

She could not allow herself to mistake kindness for love.

Not from a man who admitted this marriage was built on revenge.

The realization made her straighten slightly.

She needed distance.

No matter how gentle Damian acted…

she could never forget who he truly was.

Finally, the maids helped her into the warm bath before quietly excusing themselves from the room to give her privacy.

The moment the doors closed behind them, the silence became unbearable.

Elena slowly sank deeper into the water, wrapping her arms around herself as steam rose softly around the marble room.

And suddenly—

everything hit her at once.

A shaky breath escaped her lips.

Then another.

Tears blurred her vision before she even realized she was crying.

Her entire world had crumbled within a single day.

This morning, she had still been Elena Hart.

A daughter.

A sister.

She had still belonged somewhere.

Now she was trapped inside a mansion that didn’t feel alive beside a man she barely understood.

A man she was supposed to hate.

Elena covered her mouth as quiet sobs finally escaped her.

She missed home.

Not the expensive things they lost.

Not the status.

Home.

The warmth of her mother’s embrace.

The sound of laughter during dinner.

The familiar scent that greeted her every time she opened the front door after a long day.

That comforting feeling of knowing she was loved there.

Gone.

All gone.

Fresh tears slid down her cheeks as she lowered her head.

For the first time since the wedding started…

Elena allowed herself to grieve the life she had lost.

——

Damian walked through the dim hallways of the mansion with slow, steady steps, his expression unreadable as the man beside him spoke in a low voice.

The warmth he showed Elena moments ago had vanished completely.

What remained was the Damian Moretti the city feared.

Cold.

Sharp.

Untouchable.

The man in the jade-green suit loosened his tie slightly, clearly frustrated.

His name was Vincent Laurent—Damian’s closest advisor and the only person in the organization bold enough to speak to him directly without trembling.

“What happened, Vincent?” Damian asked calmly.

The softness from earlier was gone from his voice.

Vincent exhaled sharply before answering,

“The Verlicci Syndicate is back.”

Damian’s footsteps slowed slightly.

A dangerous silence filled the hallway.

“They already struck the south side of the city,” Vincent continued grimly. “We tried containing the area before things spread, but…” His jaw tightened. “We lost several men.”

Damian said nothing.

That silence frightened people more than shouting ever could.

Vincent glanced toward him carefully.

“They’re stronger now,” he admitted. “Better weapons. More territory. Someone’s backing them.”

The mansion suddenly felt colder.

Damian’s dark eyes lowered slightly in thought, appearing almost black beneath the shadows cast by the hallway lights.

But when he stepped beneath the golden glow of a chandelier, the hidden hazel beneath them flickered briefly.

Deadly calm.

“How many?” Damian finally asked.

“Six confirmed dead,” Vincent answered quietly. “Nine injured.”

A long silence followed.

Then Damian spoke again.

“Who led the attack?”

Vincent hesitated for half a second.

“Alessio Verlicci himself.”

The air shifted instantly.

Even Vincent straightened slightly.

Everyone in the city knew the feud between the Morettis and the Verliccis was written in blood.

Years of violence.

Power.

Revenge.

And now the Verlicci Syndicate was rising again.

Damian adjusted the cuff of his sleeve slowly, almost absentmindedly.

“Prepare a meeting tomorrow,” he ordered calmly. “I want every district leader present.”

Vincent nodded immediately.

“And Alessio?” he asked carefully.

For the first time that night, something dark flickered across Damian’s face.

Not anger.

Something colder.

More dangerous.

“He’s getting bold,” Damian said quietly.

Then his gaze drifted briefly toward the upper floors of the mansion—

toward the room Elena was currently in.

And his voice lowered.

“That was his first mistake.”

Damian and Vincent continued down the dim corridor until they reached the very end of the hallway.

A pair of dark oak doors stood there.

Damian pushed them open without a word.

His office was exactly what Elena would have expected from a man like him.

Dark.

Elegant.

Intimidating.

Heavy charcoal drapes framed the enormous windows overlooking the endless gardens outside, while low amber lights cast long shadows across the room. Shelves filled with old books lined the walls beside expensive liquor and neatly organized files.

At the center sat a massive vintage oak desk polished to perfection.

Everything about the room carried Damian’s presence.

Controlled.

Powerful.

Cold.

Vincent closed the doors behind them as Damian walked toward the windows slowly.

Outside, the estate looked peaceful beneath the moonlight.

But Damian knew better than anyone that peace never lasted.

Especially not in this city.

The Verliccis had grown bold again.

Bold enough to kill his men.

That alone told Damian they were beginning to mistake his silence for weakness.

A dangerous mistake.

Years ago, the Verlicci Syndicate ruled the city through fear and bloodshed.

Then Damian Moretti rose from the ruins of his broken family and took everything from them piece by piece.

Territory.

Power.

Influence.

He built his empire with blood on his hands and scars carved into his skin to prove it.

Now they wanted to challenge him again.

Behind him, Vincent continued speaking.

“Also,” he said seriously, “we discovered someone has been siphoning money from Moretti Global Holdings.”

Damian’s gaze darkened slightly.

“And the technology research from one of our weapons development centers was breached two hours ago.”

Silence filled the office.

Damian remained facing the window for several seconds before finally lifting a hand to his forehead, rubbing it slowly as though forcing himself to stay calm.

He exhaled heavily.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “We fix things one by one.”

Vincent nodded immediately.

“First, we deal with the Verliccis,” Damian continued. “Prepare a meeting tomorrow morning. I want every district leader there.”

“It’ll be done.”

“And make funeral arrangements for the men we lost tonight.” Damian’s voice remained steady, but colder now. “I’ll personally meet with their families. Ensure they receive compensation immediately.”

Vincent gave a respectful nod.

“Then ask Gerard to investigate who’s taking money from the corporation,” Damian added. “And contact Keith regarding the breach. I want a full report on my desk by noon tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

The room fell silent again.

Then Vincent’s expression shifted slightly.

“Oh,” he said, a faint smile appearing for the first time that night. “Congratulations on your wedding.”

Damian’s gaze lowered briefly.

“You finally got her.”

Something unreadable flickered across Damian’s face.

Then he gave a quiet laugh as he loosened his black tie with one hand and removed his cufflinks slowly.

“Yes,” he said softly.

“I finally got her.”

The words carried something deeper than satisfaction.

Something heavier.

Damian walked toward the liquor cabinet and poured whiskey into a crystal glass, amber liquid reflecting beneath the dim light.

“And because of that,” he continued, “I should probably get ready for dinner.”

A faint smirk touched his lips.

“Hopefully she’s adjusted by now.”

Vincent watched him carefully for a moment before asking quietly,

“She still doesn’t remember you?”

Damian paused.

Just for a second.

“No.”

The single word sounded strangely distant.

Sad, even.

Vincent noticed immediately but said nothing.

Damian lifted the whiskey glass slightly.

“A drink to celebrate?”

Vincent shook his head with a small sigh.

“No thank you. Unfortunately, I have too many problems to solve tonight.”

A quiet chuckle escaped Damian.

“That makes two of us.”

Vincent moved toward the door before Damian spoke again.

“Thank you for handling things.”

Vincent glanced back briefly.

“You’d do the same for me.”

Then he left the office, the heavy doors shutting softly behind him.

Damian remained alone in the dim room, whiskey glass resting in his hand as his gaze drifted toward the rain-darkened gardens outside.

Then slowly—

his thoughts returned to Elena.

To the fear in her eyes at the altar.

To the way she melted against him for one brief second during the kiss before pulling away.

A dangerous softness crossed his features.

“She really doesn’t remember,” he murmured quietly to himself.

And somehow…

that hurt more than he expected.

An hour later, Elena found herself sitting inside the mansion’s grand dining hall.

The room looked almost unreal beneath the glow of the enormous crystal chandelier hanging above the table. Golden candlelight reflected across polished marble floors while soft classical music played quietly somewhere in the distance.

Yet despite all the luxury surrounding her…

the room still felt cold.

Empty.

Like no one had truly lived in it for years.

Elena sat quietly at the long dining table, dressed in a deep red silk gown the maids had prepared for her. The smooth fabric flowed elegantly against her figure, the rich color making her peach-white skin appear even softer beneath the warm lights.

Her long black hair had been carefully styled into a loose French braid resting over one shoulder, allowing delicate strands to frame her face naturally.

And her eyes—

dark as midnight—

seemed almost luminous beneath the chandelier light.

Beautiful.

Too beautiful for a place that felt so lifeless.

Across from her sat Damian.

He had changed after leaving his office, now dressed in a fitted black shirt stretched neatly across his broad frame, the top buttons left slightly undone, paired with tailored gray pants. Without the suit jacket and tie from earlier, he looked less like the untouchable businessman feared by the city—

and far more dangerous.

Because now there was nothing formal hiding him.

The dim lighting sharpened the angles of his face while shadows darkened his hazel-brown eyes until they looked almost black again.

And the way he looked at Elena…

It was unsettling.

As if she were the only thing in the room worthy of his attention.

Brian stood beside the table with his usual perfect composure.

“May we begin with the appetizers, Mr. and Mrs. Moretti?”

Damian gave a slight nod.

The staff moved immediately.

One dish after another appeared throughout dinner, each plate more extravagant than the last, but Elena barely noticed the food.

She could feel Damian watching her constantly.

Not openly.

Subtly.

Like he was memorizing every expression she made.

The silence stretched unbearably between them.

Finally, Damian spoke.

“Do you like your room?”

Elena looked up briefly before lowering her gaze toward her plate again.

“It’s beautiful,” she answered softly.

“But?”

Her fingers tightened slightly around her fork.

He noticed everything.

“There’s no but,” she murmured.

A faint smirk touched Damian’s lips.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Elena blinked, startled by the unexpected teasing in his tone.

For a moment, she accidentally met his eyes again.

Under the chandelier light, she could finally see their true color properly.

Dark brown.

But when the light touched them just right, warm hazel appeared beneath the darkness.

Beautiful eyes.

Dangerous eyes.

She quickly looked away.

“I’m just tired,” she whispered.

Damian leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze never leaving her.

“That’s expected,” he said calmly. “Today was overwhelming.”

The strange gentleness in his voice made Elena uneasy all over again.

Why was he acting like this?

This wasn’t the Damian Moretti people feared.

She finally gathered enough courage to ask quietly—

“Why are you being kind to me?”

The question seemed to catch him slightly off guard.

His fingers paused briefly against the crystal glass in his hand.

“Would you prefer cruelty instead?”

“No.”

“Then accept the kindness when it’s given.”

His answer only confused her more.

The staff quietly replaced another course before leaving them alone again in the massive dining hall.

Elena swallowed nervously.

Then finally asked the question burning inside her since the wedding.

“Why me?”

Damian’s gaze lifted fully toward her.

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

“What made you choose me?” Elena asked softly. “Out of everyone… why me?”

Silence.

Heavy.

Dangerous.

Damian stared at her for a long moment before slowly setting down his glass.

“You really don’t remember anything, do you?”

Elena frowned slightly.

“What?”

Something unreadable crossed his face then.

Not anger.

Not hatred.

Something quieter.

Almost disappointed.

He looked away briefly before speaking again.

“Tell me something, Elena.”

His eyes returned to hers.

“What do you know about what your father did to my family?”

A chill spread instantly through her chest.

“My father never did anything to your family.”

Damian let out a quiet laugh.

But there was no warmth in it.

“That’s what they told you?”

Elena’s heartbeat quickened.

“What are you talking about?”

Damian slowly rose from his chair.

The chandelier light cast shadows across his face as he walked toward the massive windows overlooking the dark gardens outside.

Then finally—

without turning back—

he said quietly,

“Your family destroyed mine.”

Elena froze.

“And now,” Damian continued coldly,

“you belong to me.”

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***