The bachelor party was being held at the isolated estate, high in the hills, far from prying eyes and any law that wasn't our own. The main hall was immense—crystal chandeliers glowing like stars pinned to the ceiling, walls lined with dark hardwood, and tables laden with imported food, expensive liquor, and rare cigars. Dozens of men surrounded me: capos, counselors, family friends, all wearing impeccable suits, all raising their glasses to my name, to my future, to a life I never chose.
At the center of the hall, a group of women danced to loud, intoxicating music. Their bodies moved with a calculated beauty—light clothing that left little to the imagination, painted smiles, eyes trained to please. They spun, drew close, offered drinks, caresses, attention. For any other man there, it was paradise: luxury, pleasure, power, all served on a golden platter. But for me, it was nothing but an empty show. I looked at all of it and felt nothing. No desire, no joy, no curiosity. Just a vast emptiness—the certainty that everything around me was fake, built to look perfect, while the truth was that I was being imprisoned more and more.
I was leaning against a column, a glass of whiskey in my hand, drinking in slow sips, watching it all as though I were a spectator, not the guest of honor.
"You should smile, brother," Lorenzo said, arriving at my side, his gaze sharp as always. "It's your party."
"A party for what?" I replied, low, without taking my eyes off the dancing women. "To celebrate that I'm surrendering to an alliance I don't want, with a woman I don't trust, under the orders of a father who seems to be playing a game I don't understand? I don't see a reason to smile."
Lorenzo glanced around, making sure no one could hear us, and moved closer:
"That's exactly why I'm leaving now. I'm going to the next town over to check where Father really is. He said he'd have meetings, but my contacts spotted his car parked at Valentina's parents' house. I want to know what they're discussing in secret, away from everyone. If something's going on behind the family's back, I'll find out."
I nodded. It was exactly what we needed.
"Go. And be careful, Lorenzo. If he really is plotting something against me, he won't hesitate to eliminate whoever finds out."
"I know. I'll call you as soon as I have anything."
He clapped my shoulder lightly, turned, and slipped out without drawing attention.
A few minutes later, Matteo appeared at my side, his face already flushed from drinking, a mischievous grin on his lips, and a leggy blonde clinging to his arm. She wore a short dress, smiled at him as though he were the only man in the world, and kept whispering things in his ear.
"I'm heading out for a bit, brother!" he announced, with that boundless energy of his. "This knockout here says she knows a better spot, livelier, without all these old guys talking business and power. Gotta enjoy life, right? After all, you're the one getting chained down by marriage—I'm still free!"
He laughed at his own joke, and I couldn't help but crack a faint smile. Matteo was the opposite of everything: light, carefree, living in the moment. Sometimes I envied the way he carried himself through life—no burdens, no secrets.
"Go have fun, Matteo. And don't do anything stupid."
"Me? Stupid? Never!" he shouted, already walking away, pulling the woman by the hand. "See you later!"
And in seconds, he too had vanished through the door, leaving me alone.
I looked around the hall again—at the men toasting, at the women dancing, at all that luxury that, for me, meant nothing but chains. Suddenly, all of it seemed pointless. A ridiculous spectacle, an enormous lie. I was the Don, the man who commanded everything, and yet I didn't have control over my own life.
The feeling of suffocation grew inside me. I couldn't stay there one more minute.
I knocked back the rest of my whiskey in one swallow, feeling the burn slide down my throat, draped my jacket over my shoulders, and walked toward the exit, ignoring the greetings and curious looks. No one dared ask me anything. No one dared stop me.
I reached the parking lot, where my black sports car gleamed under the lights. I got in, started the engine, and the deep roar echoed through the dark night. All I wanted was to drive. I wanted speed, wind in my face, to feel something real—something that wasn't duty, obligation, or betrayal.
I pulled out of the estate, taking the winding road that cut through the mountains—dark, barely lit. The speed climbed with every curve, and for a moment, I felt the weight lift from my shoulders. It was just me, the car, and the road.
I grabbed my phone and dialed Lorenzo. He answered on the second ring.
"Dante? You left the party?"
"I left. None of it makes sense to me—I couldn't stand being there anymore. Where are you?"
"I'm near their house, parked on a hidden corner. And Dante... Father is here. His car is in the garage, and there are two other vehicles I recognize—her family's security detail. They've been together for hours. This isn't just a meeting, brother. It's a conspiracy."
I felt my blood boil.
"Keep watching. Record everything, note everything. Any movement, let me know."
"You got it. And be careful on the road—it's dark and wet from the earlier rain."
I hung up, and before I could pay closer attention, I saw it in the rearview mirror.
Two large, dark cars had appeared behind me, coming up way too fast. They weren't just passing. They were following me.
I accelerated harder, gripping the steering wheel tight.
"Who the hell are they?" I muttered, every alarm in my head going off.
The cars accelerated too. They closed in—one on each side—boxing me in. These weren't ordinary vehicles. These were cars driven by armed men, with blacked-out windows and no visible plates.
I grabbed my phone again, calling Matteo, my heart already pounding harder.
"Dante?" he asked, laughing, music blaring in the background.
"Matteo! Listen to me! Two cars are chasing me on the hill road. They're boxing me in, trying to force me to stop."
His laughter died instantly.
"What? Chasing you? Who is it?"
"I don't know! But they're armed, I'm sure of it. Call our men, send help, now!"
"I'm on my way! Stay on the line, Dante, don't hang up!"
I hung up and swerved the car to the side, dodging a collision one of them tried to force. The tires screamed on the wet asphalt, the speed was insane, the curves deadly. They didn't just want to stop me. They wanted to run me off the road.
It's Father... it's Valentina... it's them, I thought, with rage and clarity. They knew I was going to find out and decided to eliminate me before I could unravel their plans.
The two cars stayed on my tail, pushing me toward the edge of the cliff, where the road had no guardrails. I drove with every ounce of skill I had—swerving, accelerating, braking—but they outnumbered me, and they were determined.
On a tighter curve, the car on the left slammed hard into my side. The impact was violent. My car lost all control. I spun across the road, lights blurring with darkness, the sound of metal grinding and breaking.
I tried to hold the wheel, tried to recover, but the speed was too much, and the slick asphalt betrayed me.
The car flew off the road, crashed hard against a stone barrier, and rolled—once, twice, three times—spinning through the air, tumbling downhill, until it came to a complete stop, upside down, in a dark ditch full of dirt and rocks.
The silence that followed was terrifying.
I tasted blood in my mouth, felt an immense pain tearing through my entire body, my head throbbing, my vision going blurry and dark. The last thing I heard, before everything went black, was the sound of the other cars stopping on the road above, doors opening, footsteps approaching. And a voice—low and cold—that I would recognize anywhere: the voice of my own father.
"It's done. Now no one stands in the way of our plan."
And then the total darkness swallowed me whole.
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