Bella's fingers trembled as she clutched the edge of her white dress, the delicate lace fabric a cruel mockery of the purity it was meant to symbolize. The grand chandelier above her glowed with an eerie light, casting shadows against the walls of her father's mansion. She felt trapped, suffocated by the heavy silence that stretched between her and the man standing before her.
Vladimir Castillo.
The name alone sent a shiver down her spine.
He was a figure of nightmares, a ghost in the underworld. The mere mention of his name sent criminals and politicians alike into hushed whispers. His empire was built on fear, blood, and power. Now, standing just a few feet away from him, Bella could finally understand why.
He was tall—intimidatingly so. Dressed in a fitted black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and imposing frame, he exuded an aura of dominance that made the air in the room feel heavy. But it was his eyes that terrified her the most—piercing red like burning embers, cold and calculating, as if he could see through every layer of her soul.
Her father cleared his throat, his nervous gaze flickering between them. "Bella, you will marry Mr. Castillo."
The words struck her like a slap, each syllable tightening the chains around her fate.
"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Her father's jaw tensed. "You have no choice."
She turned to him, desperation creeping into her voice. "Father, please—"
A sudden chuckle filled the room, dark and amused. Bella's breath hitched as Vladimir stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "Pleading will not change your fate, Little Dove," he murmured, tilting his head as he regarded her with an unsettling calm. "Your father owes me a debt, and you are the price."
Her heart pounded wildly. "I am not a possession to be traded!"
Vladimir's lips curled into a smirk, but there was no warmth in it—only cruel amusement. "You belong to me now."
Bella shook her head, stepping back instinctively. But he was faster. In one smooth movement, he closed the distance between them, his gloved fingers lifting her chin. The touch was gentle, almost deceptive, but the steel in his gaze warned her that he was not a man who tolerated defiance.
"You will learn, Bella," he murmured, his voice a dangerous promise. "You may fight, you may resist, but in the end, you are mine."
Tears burned at the edges of her vision, but she refused to let them fall. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.
Vladimir leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against her cheek. "Your silence is an answer," he mused, releasing her chin. He turned to her father. "The contract is sealed. We will leave tonight."
Bella's eyes widened in horror. "Tonight?"
Her father nodded stiffly, avoiding her gaze.
It was happening too fast. Just hours ago, she had been nothing more than the overlooked daughter, a shadow in her own home. And now, she was being handed over to the devil himself.
Vladimir extended his hand, his expression unreadable. "Come, Little Dove."
Bella stared at his outstretched hand, her body frozen in place. She wanted to run, to scream, to fight against the cruel fate that had been forced upon her. But deep down, she knew—there was no escaping Vladimir Castillo.
Taking a deep breath, she placed her trembling fingers in his.
And with that single touch, her fate was sealed.
The coldness in Vladimir's eyes was absolute, as if he were staring into the depths of her very soul. He led Bella through the grand hallways of her father's mansion with a precision that felt almost surgical, his hand never leaving hers, though it was a firm grip that sent shivers down her spine. His presence suffocated the air, as if the walls themselves recoiled from the darkness that clung to him.
Bella could hear the soft shuffle of her father's footsteps behind them, but his voice had been reduced to silence the moment Vladimir had stepped in. It was as though her father no longer had a say in the matter, as if the man walking beside her had already claimed her fate in a single breath.
They reached the massive doors of the mansion. As they were pushed open, the cold night air wrapped around Bella like a physical force, and she could feel every inch of her body tightening in dread.
Vladimir halted just before stepping into the sleek, black limousine parked outside. He turned to face her, his expression unreadable, his eyes gleaming with a cruel amusement.
"You're quiet, Little Dove," he remarked, his voice smooth but chilling, like a blade being slowly drawn across stone. "Did you think you had a choice?"
Bella swallowed hard, fighting the rising panic in her chest. She had no voice in this. No choice.
"I…" Her words faltered, and she had to force herself to continue. "I'm not your possession."
Vladimir's lips twitched into a mockery of a smile, but it held no warmth. It was the smile of a man who had long ago ceased to care for anything except power.
"You were never meant to be, Little Dove," he said coldly. "But you will learn. Just as you will learn that resistance is futile. I do not tolerate defiance—least of all from not tolerate defiance—least of all from someone like you."
His eyes, burning red like embers, locked onto hers. There was no pity, no compassion, only the cold, unrelenting gaze of a man who had mastered the art of cruelty.
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, and Bella's heart raced as she instinctively took a small step back. But it didn't matter—his reach was far too great. He grabbed her wrist, the coldness of his fingers sending a jolt of fear through her.
"Do not test me," Vladimir said, his voice a low growl. "You will obey. You will learn to obey."
Bella's heart hammered in her chest as the terrifying truth settled over her. This man, this devil incarnate, wasn't merely a ruthless mafia boss. He was a predator—cold, calculating, and unyielding. And she was now his prey.
Vladimir turned, guiding her to the waiting limousine. As they entered, he didn't spare her another glance, instead commanding the driver to move. The car began its journey, and Bella could feel the weight of the silence crushing her.
With every passing second, the mansion—her home—faded further into the distance, and with it, her sense of safety. There was no turning back now. She was his.
The car's windows reflected her wide, fearful eyes as she gazed out at the world she once knew, slipping further and further away with every mile that passed. The realization sank in deep within her chest.
There was no escape.
Vladimir was the devil, and Bella was bound to him, body and soul.