The car ride was silent.

Luciano didn’t speak, and Serena didn’t ask questions. The city blurred past the tinted windows, and her reflection stared back at her—calm on the outside, screaming on the inside.

No wedding dress. No flowers. No music.

Just a black SUV and a man beside her who reeked of power, violence, and control.

She held the pen in her lap like a weapon. Still ink-stained from the signature that sold her into a life she hadn’t written.

At the courthouse, things moved fast. Too fast.

One of Luciano’s men escorted her in, and suddenly she was standing in front of a cold official who didn’t ask questions. No vows. No blessings. Just silence.

Her father wasn’t there. No one was.

She looked up once during the process. Luciano was already watching her, hands in his pockets like this meant nothing to him.

But it did mean something to her.

This was her ending.

Or maybe… her new plot twist.

When it was over, she walked out with a ring on her finger that didn’t fit and a last name that didn’t belong to her.

De Luca.

They returned to a mansion—stone, sharp-edged, and drenched in shadow. A place that didn’t feel like home. It felt like a war zone dressed in marble.

Luciano walked ahead of her, coat slung over his shoulder. She followed silently, her eyes drinking in everything: the guards, the cameras, the tension in the air.

Inside, he finally turned to face her.

“This is your home now,” he said. “You’ll have access to what you need. Don’t go places you’re not allowed. And don’t lie to me.”

Serena tilted her head. “Will you offer the same?”

Something flickered in his eyes. Irritation… or intrigue?

“I don’t lie,” he said flatly.

She gave him a faint smile. “Everyone does. Some of us just write ours better.”

He stepped forward, closing the space between them.

“You don’t get to play games, wife.”

“I don’t play,” she whispered. “I build them.”

Luciano didn’t respond. He just stared for a second longer—too long—before turning and leaving her standing alone in a house full of strangers, with his name wrapped around her finger like a shackle.

But Serena Vale didn’t break.

She’d already started rewriting this story in her head.

And in her version, the villain always bleeds.