On the night of her engagement, Aria Sinclair catches her fiancé cheating, with the daughter of a rival mafia boss. Humiliated and shattered, She goes to a club and end up getting intimate with a strange man. On a quest for revenge for her fiancee's betrayal, she decides to marry his father. But what will she do when she finds out his father is the same man she encountered at the club?
View MoreAria's Pov
“The moment he put the ring on my hand, I became the happiest woman on earth.”
I stared at the sparkling diamond on my finger, barely able to breathe. The applause echoed in the grand hall of the De Luca mansion, but all I could focus on was Marco, his smile, his strong hands, his warmth.
This was it. My dream come true.
He leaned down slightly and whispered, “You look beautiful Aria, so beautiful.”
I blushed. “Thank you. Everything is perfect, Marco… but I haven't even met your father before, that's strange. He approved of our engagement without even meeting me. And now I can't see him here either. Why isn’t your father here?”
His smile faltered just a bit. “He’s not a fan of social interactions. Doesn’t like crowds.”
“Oh…” I tried to hide my disappointment.
“But,” Marco added, squeezing my hand, “he was the one who arranged all of this. The venue, the food… He wanted it to be special for you.”
That made my heart flutter again. Maybe Damian De Luca wasn’t as scary as people said.
Before I could say more, Marco’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it, and his expression shifted.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. Just business. I'll just attend to it quickly. I’ll be back soon, okay?” He kissed my cheek and walked away.
I watched him go, wondering what could be so urgent tonight.
“Girl, you look like a Disney princess.”
I turned and smiled when I saw Fiona walking toward me. She was dressed in a red silk dress, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “You made it,” I said.
“Of course I did. There was free champagne and a mafia prince getting engaged to my best friend. Like hell I was missing this.”
I laughed, finally feeling a bit more relaxed. Fiona always knew how to make things feel light.
We stood by the dessert table, sipping champagne, when I looked around and realized Marco still hadn’t come back.
“Have you seen Marco?” I asked.
Fiona shook her head. “Maybe he’s on a business call? You know how mafia stuff is.”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah, maybe…”
But something didn’t sit right in my chest. A weird ache started to grow.
“You know what, I’m just gonna check,” I said, placing my glass down.
Fiona raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Don’t go full psycho-fiancée on him.”
I chuckled weakly. “It's nothing like that, Just checking.”
The De Luca mansion was huge, with too many hallways and closed doors. I walked past a few rooms, listening for voices, trying not to overthink it.
And then… I heard something.
A soft moan.
I froze.
It was from a woman.
The sound came from behind a door at the end of the hallway. It wasn’t loud, but I knew what I was hearing.
No. It couldn’t be.
I swallowed hard and walked closer, my heels clicking against the marble now sounding like thunder in my ears.
The door wasn’t fully shut.
I pushed it open just a little.
And my heart shattered.
There he was.
Marco.
His lips crashed into another woman’s, her dress was pulled halfway down, her hands tangled in his hair. They were kissing like they hadn’t seen each other in years.
I couldn’t breathe.
He looked up. Our eyes met.
His face went pale.
“Aria—”
I turned and ran.
"Aria" Marco said as he was about to run after me. But then Elena stopped him.
"Don't leave me Marco, I'm horny already"
Elena pulls marco back into the room and closes the door. They resume kissing again.
Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled through the hallway. The laughter and music from the engagement party felt like cruel background noise. My chest burned, my lungs screamed, but I didn’t stop.
“Aria!”
I heard Fiona’s voice as I burst through the front doors.
She came after me, her heels clicking fast. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
I collapsed against the nearest pillar, sobbing. “He… he was kissing someone else.”
Her face went cold. “What?”
I nodded, unable to form words. “He was with another woman. In one of the rooms. They were…”
“Motherf.....” Fiona caught herself. “That cheating bastard. Are you sure it was him?”
“I saw him. He saw me.”
Fiona wrapped her arms around me. “You don’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you.”
I wanted to scream, cry, punch something, but all I could do was fall apart in her arms.
“Let’s go,” she said firmly. “You are not staying another second in this cursed place.”
At my apartment, everything felt numb. Fiona made tea while I curled up on the couch, staring at the wall like it could explain why this happened.
“You should’ve seen your face when he proposed,” Fiona muttered. “He doesn’t deserve that kind of love.”
I stayed quiet.
“Let’s go out,” she said suddenly.
“What?”
“A club. Loud music, drinks, hot men. Let’s go.”
“I don’t want to,” I whispered.
“You need to. You’re not gonna cry all night over some loser.”
I shook my head. “I can’t.”
She walked over and grabbed my hands. “Yes, you can. You’re Aria Sinclair. You’re strong. Let’s go be hot and reckless.”
A part of me didn’t want to give in, but another part… the hurt, broken part… wanted to forget.
I stood up slowly.
Fiona grinned. “That’s my girl. Go get dressed.”
I walked to my room, and just before I opened my closet, my eyes landed on the engagement ring.
The glittering diamond mocked me.
I slid it off my finger, held it in my palm for a second… and then threw it across the room.
It hit the floor with a soft clink.
Just like that, my fairytale ended.
“I thought I was walking into forever… but I had no idea it would all burn down in a single night.”
The bathroom was filled with a soft haze of steam as Aria stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the silk strap of her dress. The evening had drained her, and even the warm shower hadn’t washed away the tension clinging to her like a second skin. Her thoughts swirled with confusion, about Damian, about Lyla, and about the strange feelings she couldn’t quite put into words. She reached for the towel to dry her hands when she heard a faint creak. Her brows furrowed. Another sound followed, a soft rustle, like fabric being moved. She paused, holding her breath. Slowly, carefully, she moved toward the door and opened it just an inch. The bedroom was dim, lit only by the low glow of the bedside lamp. But what she saw made her blood run cold. Lyla stood with her back to the bathroom, completely unaware that Aria was watching. The younger woman had opened Damian’s wardrobe and was holding one of his white dress shirts close to her face. Her eyes were closed as she buried her nose
Aria paused at the end of the hallway, her steps faltering when she caught sight of someone slipping out of Damian’s study. The door shut with a soft click, but not before she saw Lyla stepping into the corridor, her head slightly bowed, her fingers smoothing down her dress as though steadying herself. Aria’s brows furrowed. What was Lyla doing in Damian’s study? At this hour? And without knocking? She stayed hidden, her back pressed against the wall just out of sight. Lyla didn’t notice her. She walked away with calm, deliberate steps, but there was something... off about her expression. She wasn’t distressed or tearful. If anything, she looked satisfied, almost smug. Aria’s stomach twisted uneasily. A minute passed. Then another. She didn’t know whether to confront her or brush it off. But deep inside, a cold seed of suspicion had already taken root. Drawing a deep breath, Aria stepped forward. Her feet moved toward the study almost without thought. Maybe it was instinct
The silence in the bedroom was unbearable. Aria sat on the edge of the massive bed, her fingers clenched tightly around the edge of her silk robe. The room felt more like a prison than a sanctuary. The rain had stopped, but the air was still heavy with tension. Damian had left an hour ago, slamming the door behind him without a word. She hadn’t cried. Not yet. But now, with no one watching, her shoulders trembled. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, burying her face between them like a child trying to hide from a nightmare. Except this nightmare didn’t go away when the sun came up. Her skin still stung from where he’d grabbed her. Her heart thudded painfully every time she remembered the way he looked at her—as if she was nothing more than an object he owned. She used to think there was some hidden softness in Damian. That maybe, buried under all that violence and coldness, there was a heart that could love. But after tonight? She wasn't s
The bedroom door slammed shut with a deafening BANG. The sound echoed through the room like a gunshot. Damian shoved Aria inside with such force that she stumbled and nearly hit the bedpost. Her soaked clothes clung to her skin, dripping onto the expensive floorboards. Her hair was plastered to her cheeks, her lips trembling from the cold. But it wasn’t just the freezing water that made her shiver, it was the man standing before her. “What the hell do you think you were doing in that kitchen?” Damian growled, his voice low and venomous. Aria turned to face him, her arms tightly wrapped around herself. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I told you, I was choking and he helped me. That’s it.” “You think I’m an idiot?” Damian hissed, advancing. “You think I can’t see what’s happening right under my nose?” “I’m telling the truth!” Aria cried. “Why can’t you just believe me?” “Because you looked comfortable!” he roared. “You looked like you belonged with him. Laughing. Smiling. Letting
The moment Damian stepped into the kitchen, fury surged through his veins like wildfire. He didn’t wait for explanations. He marched straight up to Marco and grabbed him by the collar, his grip tight and unrelenting. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Marco?” he growled, his voice low and vibrating with rage. Marco tried to speak, “I was just—” But Damian didn’t let him finish. With one swift move, he yanked Marco forward and dragged him out of the kitchen and into the living room. Marco stumbled over his own feet, trying to keep up. With one powerful shove, Damian threw him onto a chair. Marco grunted from the impact. “Dad, listen to me—” But Damian was past listening. He surged forward, grabbed his son again, and slapped him hard across the face. The sound echoed like a gunshot through the room. “Damian!” Aria screamed, rushing after them. Her heart pounded in panic. Lyla, who had just entered the room, stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes flicked between Damian and
Aria's heart pounded in her chest as Damian stood behind her, whip in hand. The cool metal of the handcuffs dug into her skin, and for the first time, she wasn't sure if his rage was part of a twisted game or something far more dangerous. Damian’s voice was calm. Too calm. “I’ll ask you once, Aria. Did anything happen between you and Marco?” Aria’s breath hitched. He knows…? “No,” she said firmly. “Nothing happened.” Damian swung the whip down, not on her skin, but beside her on the table. The crack echoed through the study. “Wrong answer.” “I’m telling the truth!” she snapped, twisting in the cuffs. “There’s nothing between us!” His eyes darkened as he walked to face her, crouching to her level. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re lying to me.” “I’m not!” she screamed, tears brimming now, out of frustration, not fear. “You want me to be guilty so badly you’re imagining things!” He stared at her for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then… he smirked. “Marco came close t
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