Bound to the Unwanted Bride
bride
Suddenly, the door burst open.
Marco & bella (shouting together):
Adrian jumped up in excitement, but Matteo’s icy glare cut through the air like a blade.
Matteo Salvatore(ml)
(cold, sharp):
“What the hell are you two doing in my room?”
Marco[Ml's cousin brother ]
[Marco grinned, tossing his hair back dramatically.]
Marco[Ml's cousin brother ]
(smirking):
“Brother, why so serious? Don’t forget—we’re family too. How could we miss this grand day?”
bella ignored Matteo’s scowl, scooping Adrian into her arms. The boy giggled, clapping his hands happily.
bella [ Ml's cousin sis]
(teasing):
“Don’t glare like that, Matteo. I’m taking Adrian with me. You better get ready—your bride is waiting.”
Without waiting for permission, the two cousins left, Adrian’s innocent laughter echoing in the hallway.
Matteo stood motionless, staring once more at the photo frame. His chest burned, but his face betrayed nothing.
Then, with a sharp inhale, he turned toward the mirror.
The man who stared back was not a groom.
He was the King of the underworld. Ruthless. Unyielding. Dead inside.
[Grand Wedding Hall – Salvatore Mansion]
The hall was drenched in grandeur—crystal chandeliers, golden carvings, and endless garlands of white roses.
Power lingered in the air heavier than the perfume of fresh flowers.
At the center, Matteo sat near the altar, his expression unreadable, his gaze fixed on the sacred fire. His blue eyes reflected only cold flames, not warmth.
Beside him stood Serena Salvatore, regal as ever, her elegant posture betraying neither fear nor doubt—only a mother’s silent hope.
A few feet away, Valerio Costa adjusted his cufflinks, keeping a sharp watch on every corner of the hall. His loyalty to Matteo was unshaken, but even he knew—tonight was dangerous.
And in the crowd, little Adrian sat on bella’s lap, tugging at her earrings playfully, his laughter softening even the hardest of hearts.
Priest (calmly):
“Call the bride.”
The hall hushed instantly.
And then—
The soft chime of anklets echoed through the silence
All heads turned to the entrance.
She appeared.
Elena Caruso.
Draped in crimson silk, her veil lowered, yet unable to hide her beauty. Her steps were graceful, her aura commanding, her silence more powerful than a thousand words.
Every eye was on her.
Every breath caught in awe.
He did not look.
He refused to.
For to him, this was not love.
This was duty.
A deal sealed in shadows.
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