The air inside the grand hall is heavy. Like breathing through smoke. Sophia stands in the center, dressed like a doll—silk draped over a woman whose heart pounds like a caged animal. Her father, the architect of her prison, smiles as three shadows step forward.

Sophia

Age: 22

Appearance:

Her skin is porcelain, with just a hint of rose to her cheeks. Long, chestnut-brown hair cascades down her back, brushing the base of her spine. Her eyes, wide and honey-brown, hold a mix of fear and defiance, like a deer cornered but ready to fight. A small, slightly upturned nose and full lips—often bit raw from nerves—complete her delicate face.

Personality:

Sophia is resilient despite her circumstances. She’s quiet but sharp, observing everything, calculating silently while others underestimate her. She hates being controlled, though years under her father’s thumb taught her to play along—at least, for now.

Likes:

Drawing in secret (a world only she can control).

The scent of rain before a storm.

Books about freedom, though, irony makes her sick.

Dislikes:

Being touched without permission.

The sound of locked doors.

Overconfident men who think they own her.

Leonardo “Leo” Vieri (Husband 1: The Calculating Devil)

Age: 30

Appearance:

Leo’s presence is sharp enough to cut through silence. He has piercing blue eyes—cold as glaciers—and jet-black hair, slicked back to perfection. His jaw is angular, his lips thin but perpetually curled into a smug smile, like he knows everyone’s secrets. Always dressed in black suits tailored to emphasize his lean, commanding frame.

Personality:

Leo is a strategist—a cold and meticulous mafia leader who rarely loses control. He speaks softly, but every word bites harder than a bullet. Sophia can already tell he’s the type to watch someone unravel just for his amusement.

Likes:

Chess. He always wins.

Control—of his world, his enemies, and now, of Sophia.

Fine wine aged longer than most people live.

Dislikes:

Messiness, in life or death.

Disobedience.

Small talk.

Hobby:

He paints, though no one would ever guess—abstract canvases drenched in reds and blacks, like violence given color.

Adrian Moretti (Husband 2: The Wild Rebel)

Age: 28

Appearance:

Adrian is chaos personified. Silver hair falls in loose waves across his forehead, defying any attempts at order. His eyes are storm-gray, a restless swirl that hints at an untamed fire. Tall and broad-shouldered, Adrian looks more like a predator in waiting, dressed in half-buttoned shirts that show glimpses of intricate tattoos crawling across his chest and forearms.

Personality:

Adrian is impulsive, reckless, and impossible to ignore. He laughs too loud, fights too hard, and hates losing more than anything. Where Leo is ice, Adrian is fire, burning bright and unpredictable.

Likes:

Fast cars and faster decisions.

Whiskey straight from the bottle.

The thrill of a good fight—physical or verbal.

Dislikes:

Rules. He follows his own.

Anyone who thinks they can control him.

Sitting still for too long.

Hobby:

He plays guitar—badly, but passionately. It’s the only time he seems at peace.

Nicolas “Nico” De Luca (Husband 3: The Quiet Enigma)

Age: 32

Appearance:

Nico blends into shadows like he was born there. His hair is a dark chocolate brown, slightly tousled as if he’s always just run his fingers through it. His eyes are a deep emerald green, sharp but distant, like he’s always thinking of a place no one can reach. His face is softer than Leo’s, but there’s a quiet danger in his calm demeanor. Nico rarely smiles, and when he does, it’s as fleeting as smoke.

Personality:

Nico is the silent storm. He doesn’t waste words; he doesn’t need to. When he moves, it’s with deliberate, predatory grace, and people step aside without thinking. Of the three, he’s the hardest to read—and maybe the most dangerous because of it.

Likes:

Books. His personal library could rival a museum.

Silence. He finds comfort in it.

Animals, particularly stray cats—though he’ll deny it.

Dislikes:

Liars. His patience is thin for deceit.

Crowds and loud places.

Being underestimated.

Hobby:

He collects old, rare books. Their stories are easier to understand than people.

The room was suffocating. Chandeliers dripped with crystals, catching the dim light that barely softened the sharp edges of everything around me. A perfect stage for betrayal. My father’s voice echoed in my head: “This is for the family.”

But this wasn’t for the family. It was for him.

I stood in the center of the hall, dressed like a sacrificial lamb, my silk gown clinging to my skin in all the wrong ways. The white made me feel like a fraud. There was nothing pure about this union, no romance, no joy. Just business. Just power.

And then they entered.

The First Husband: Leonardo "Leo" Vieri

Leo walked in first, his presence commanding silence. His eyes were a sharp, icy blue that felt more like knives than windows to the soul. Not that he had one. His jet-black hair was slicked back without a single strand out of place, as though chaos feared him.

He wore a black suit that fit his lean frame perfectly, not a wrinkle in sight. Everything about him was calculated, from the way he walked—slow, deliberate steps—to the faint curl of his lips that wasn’t quite a smile. It was a warning.

“Miss Sophia,” he said, his voice smooth but cold. He extended a hand, and when I hesitated, his smile widened just enough to show teeth. “Don’t make me wait.”

I placed my hand in his, and his grip was firm, unrelenting.

“You’ll learn quickly,” he murmured, low enough that no one else could hear. “Obedience is a skill. Let’s hope you have it.”

My stomach churned, but I refused to flinch. Not here. Not now.

The Second Husband: Adrian Moretti

If Leo was ice, Adrian was fire. He entered the room like he owned it, a cocky grin plastered across his face. His silver hair caught the light, messy and untamed, a perfect reflection of the man himself.

His eyes—storm-gray—flicked to mine, and he gave a slow, exaggerated whistle. “So, this is what all the fuss is about.”

“Adrian,” my father snapped, his tone sharp.

Adrian waved him off, shoving his hands into his pockets as he sauntered toward me. He didn’t bother wearing a tie, and his shirt was half-unbuttoned, revealing tattoos that curled up his chest and neck like living shadows.

“Relax, old man,” he said, stopping in front of me. He leaned in close, his smirk widening. “She’s prettier than I thought. You nervous, sweetheart?”

“No,” I lied, my voice steady.

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers up my spine. “Good. Nervous girls are boring.”

Before I could respond, he turned to Leo, giving him a mocking salute. “What do you think, boss man? Think she’ll survive us?”

Leo’s eyes narrowed. “Shut up, Adrian.”

The Third Husband: Nicolas "Nico" De Luca

Nico entered last, and unlike the others, he made no sound. His steps were silent, his presence almost ghostly. If Adrian was a storm and Leo was a blade, Nico was the shadow lurking just beyond the edge of the light.

His dark brown hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d run his fingers through it moments before entering. His emerald-green eyes were sharp but distant, like he was watching everything but seeing none of it.

He didn’t say a word as he approached me. Instead, his gaze swept over me, taking me apart piece by piece.

“Nico,” my father said, almost cautiously.

Nico glanced at him briefly before returning his attention to me. His expression was unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line. Then, without a word, he reached out and lifted my hand.

His touch was surprisingly gentle, but it didn’t comfort me. It felt like he was dissecting me, weighing every flaw and strength. When he finally let go, he turned to face the others.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

The ceremony was short. Mercifully so.

The priest’s words blurred in my ears, the weight of three rings on my finger a constant reminder that this wasn’t a dream. No, this was worse.

“Do you, Sophia, take these men—”

“I do,” I said before he could finish. The faster it was over, the better.

When the ceremony ended, my father was the first to step forward. He kissed my cheek, a gesture so hollow it felt like an insult.

“You’ve made me proud,” he said.

I wanted to scream. Instead, I smiled. “Of course, Father.”

The Dinner

The reception was as tense as I expected.

Leo sat at the head of the table, his cold gaze fixed on Adrian, who was pouring himself another glass of whiskey despite the barely-touched plate of food in front of him.

“You could at least pretend to care about appearances,” Leo said, his tone icy.

Adrian shrugged, his smirk unwavering. “What’s the point? We all know this is a circus act.”

Nico said nothing, cutting his steak with meticulous precision. He hadn’t looked at me since the ceremony, and I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.

I sat at the far end of the table, sipping champagne and trying to disappear into the chair.

“You’re quiet,” Adrian said, his gray eyes locking onto mine. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?”

“Leave her alone,” Leo snapped.

“Relax,” Adrian said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m just trying to get to know our lovely bride.”

“She doesn’t need to know you,” Leo said sharply.

I glanced at Nico, hoping he might intervene, but he simply set his knife down and leaned back, watching the argument with mild interest.

“Enough,” my father said, his voice cutting through the tension.

The room fell silent, but the air was thick with unspoken threats.

That night, as I sat in the room they’d given me—a gilded cage—I stared at the three rings on my finger. Three symbols of power, possession, and chains.

Three men. Three prisons.

But one thought burned brighter than the rest:

I will survive this.

Not for them. Not for my father. But for me.

And when the time came, I would make sure they regretted ever thinking they could own me.

Leo’s POV

Everything has a price.

When I looked at her, standing there in that ridiculous white dress, I felt nothing. Not pity, not guilt—certainly not love.

She was a pawn, no more important than any other piece on the board, except this one belonged to me now. Our “marriage” was strategy. A calculated move. She’d learn to be obedient, quiet, and useful—or she’d break.

“Do you take this woman—”

“I do.”

It was just another deal sealed, another victory earned.

She’ll learn that defiance has consequences. Everyone does.

Adrian’s POV

I can’t believe I’m here.

Three shots of whiskey hadn’t been enough to dull the reality of this circus. My life, my freedom—mine—traded away for a woman I didn’t ask for. I looked at her, all wide-eyed innocence and trembling hands, and hated her a little.

She was beautiful, sure. But beauty’s a weapon, and I don’t trust anyone holding a knife that sharp.

“Do you take this woman—”

“I do.”

I grinned when I said it. Let them think I was calm. Let them think I didn’t care. But inside, I was already burning.

Nico’s POV

What a waste.

I watched her—small, fragile, scared—standing at the altar like an animal caught in a snare. The marriage wasn’t her choice, but neither was mine. I didn’t need a wife. I didn’t want a wife.

And yet, here we were.

She looked at me once, our eyes meeting for half a second, and I saw the fight in her. I almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

“Do you take this woman—”

“I do.”

The words tasted bitter on my tongue. She didn’t know what she’d been dragged into. She’d learn.

They always do.

Sophia’s POV

The room they gave me was beautiful. Ornate carvings on the walls, gold fixtures, velvet drapes. It felt more like a museum than a home. Yet, as I sat on the edge of the massive bed, staring at my reflection in the vanity mirror, all I could see was a prisoner.

The white dress hung off my frame like a ghost, its silk now wrinkled and lifeless. My fingers brushed the rings on my hand—three promises I never made, three lives now intertwined with mine.

The door creaked open. I froze.

Leo's Warning

Leo entered, his presence sharp and cutting, like a blade slipped between ribs. He didn’t knock. He didn’t ask permission. His cold blue eyes swept over me, and his lips tightened into a line.

“You should change,” he said, his voice void of warmth. “That dress isn’t yours anymore. It’s ours.”

I swallowed, the words catching in my throat. “I didn’t bring anything else.”

“Then you’ll wear what I give you.” He walked to the closet, opening the door to reveal an array of clothes—silks, satins, all meticulously arranged. None of them were mine.

“You had this planned,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

Leo turned, his gaze locking onto mine. “Everything is planned. You’ll learn that soon enough.”

He stepped closer, and I resisted the urge to shrink back. His hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His touch was firm, not painful, but there was a warning in the pressure.

“I don’t care what you’re feeling right now,” he said, his tone low and deliberate. “Grief. Anger. Fear. None of it matters. You belong to us now. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”

When he let go, I exhaled a shaky breath, my skin burning where his fingers had been.

“Dinner is at 8,” he said as he turned to leave. “Don’t be late.”

Adrian's Game

The next encounter was worse. Adrian didn’t bother with knocking, either. He barged in without warning, a lazy grin plastered across his face as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Nice room, huh?” he said, his silver hair catching the dim light. “They treat you like a queen here.”

I didn’t respond.

“Silent treatment already?” He pushed off the doorframe, strolling toward me. “Come on, sweetheart, we’re married now. No need to act like a stranger.”

I stood, backing away instinctively, but Adrian caught my wrist before I could move far. His grip was firm, his skin warm compared to Leo’s icy touch.

“Let me go,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.

He tilted his head, studying me like I was some fascinating creature he’d just discovered. “You’ve got some fight in you. I like that.”

“Adrian,” I said through gritted teeth.

His smirk widened. “That’s better. Say my name again.”

The words sent a wave of nausea through me. I yanked my wrist free, stepping back. His eyes darkened for a moment, but then he laughed—a low, rumbling sound that made my skin crawl.

“I’m just messing with you,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Relax, sweetheart. You’ll get used to me.”

Before he left, he turned back, his gray eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. “You’re a pretty thing, Sophia. But let’s see how long that defiance lasts.”

Nico's Silence

Hours later, I ventured into the hallway, the house eerily quiet. Every step felt like a risk, the marble floors cold beneath my bare feet. I didn’t know where I was going—anywhere but here.

That’s when I saw him.

Nico was leaning against a doorway, his emerald-green eyes focused on a book in his hands. He didn’t look up as I approached, but I felt his awareness like a weight pressing down on me.

“You should be in your room,” he said without looking up.

“I needed air,” I said.

He finally raised his eyes, and the intensity of his gaze stopped me in my tracks. It wasn’t anger, or even annoyance. It was something deeper, darker.

“You’ll find no freedom here,” he said, his voice quiet but laced with steel. “This house isn’t yours. It’s ours.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the look he gave me froze the words in my throat. He closed the book, tucking it under his arm as he pushed off the doorway.

“Go back to your room, Sophia,” he said, walking past me. “Before you find something you wish you hadn’t.”

The Dinner Table

By the time I reached the dining room, the tension was palpable. Leo sat at the head of the table, his cold eyes fixed on me as I entered. Adrian lounged in his seat, swirling a glass of whiskey, while Nico remained silent, his gaze distant.

“You’re late,” Leo said.

“I’m not hungry,” I replied.

“Sit,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

I obeyed, my movements stiff as I lowered myself into the chair. Adrian chuckled, leaning back with a smirk.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he said. “This isn’t optional.”

“Enough,” Leo snapped, his voice cutting through the air. “Sophia will learn. She just needs time.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow but said nothing, taking another sip of his drink.

Nico didn’t speak, his green eyes flicking to mine briefly before returning to his plate. I felt like a caged animal, surrounded by predators waiting for me to slip.

As the meal dragged on, I realized one thing with chilling certainty: They weren’t just my captors.

They were my punishments.