Chapter 4 Chapter 4

Chapter 4 Chapter 4
Lily
People start greeting us. I walk beside him, stiff and silent. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Zane. He’s sitting alone, guilt written all over his face, he doesn’t look at me. On the other hand is my father and step mother, who aren’t looking at me. My heart sinks. This is betrayal.
 I clench my jaw and I want to cry.
I have to escape this marriage. I don’t know how or when, but I will figure it out, no matter what it takes. I can’t remain a wife to Sebastian Manchini. This man is a beast.
As we move through the crowd, I hear whispers.
“She’s the trophy wife.”
“The new mafia queen.”
The words stab like knives.
Just a day ago, I met him for the first time, and he stripped me, humiliated me. Then I saw him again at the campus, standing on a stage like some self-made god. And now… now I’m married to him. Just like that. In a blink. This must be a nightmare. 
Is this real?
Am I dreaming?
No, it’s a nightmare.
I feel like a doll. Painted, dressed, and handed over. Something owned, not someone living a proper life..
Sebastian leads me through the mansion in silence. His grip on my hand is gentle, but firm enough that I know resistance is pointless. My heels click against the marble floor, echoing in the long hallway as we move farther from the crowd and the music.
We stop in front of a large wooden door. He pushes it open and steps aside, letting me walk in first. The room is dimly lit, elegant, with tall windows veiled in heavy curtains. There’s a fire crackling in the hearth, and a massive bed sits in the center, draped in white and gold. I feel my stomach twist.
He enters behind me and quietly shuts the door.
Click.
The sound of the lock sliding into place makes my skin crawl.
He doesn’t speak.
He doesn’t move toward me.
He just stands there with his back against the door, watching me—his dark eyes unreadable, jaw tense, hands shoved into the pockets of his tailored suit.
I turn away, hugging myself.
The silence stretches.
I can feel his gaze on my back like a brand, burning, waiting.
At last, his voice cuts through the silence. “I didn’t know they would do this.” His words are low, almost defensive, but they do nothing to ease the storm between us. He crosses the room with measured steps, loosening his collar before reaching the minibar. The clink of crystal against the bottle fills the space as he pours himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the dim light like fire.
I don’t answer. I don’t trust myself to.
“This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen,” he says again and this time softer.
I slowly turn around. “You knew they were forcing me.”
He exhales through his nose, looking down. “I only found out tonight. They owed me… something. I didn’t expect them to give me you.”
His voice doesn’t sound proud. Doesn’t sound pleased. Just… tired.
“I’m not a debt to be paid,” I say sharply voice brimming with rage.
His eyes snap up to mine. “I know.”
We stare at each other across the room, strangers bound by something neither of us chose.
“I won’t stay,” I whisper. “I’ll leave the first chance I get.”
Something flashes in his expression maybe pain or anger or maybe guilt, it disappears just as quickly. He walks toward the window and pulls the curtain aside, revealing the night. Then he speaks without looking at me.
“You’re my wife now, Lily. Which means you’re under my protection. No one will touch you… unless you try to run. And if you do… the people who gave you to me? They’ll be the least of your worries.”
His voice is calm. Controlled. But beneath it, I sense the threat buried like a knife in silk.
I stay quiet, breathing in the suffocating stillness.
“I still have to go to university,” I say, folding my arm. “I have a life. I have things to do.” I am almost close to cry. 
Sebastian stands by the window, one hand in his pocket, the other nursing the glass of whiskey. He watches the city lights through the glass before finally turning to me and giving a slow nod. “I understand.”
For a second, I’m surprised by his calm. But then he continues.
“But we also have a honeymoon to attend.”
I blink. “What?” My eyes widen and I feel hot all of a sudden. 
“It’s a gift,” he says, taking a slow sip. “From the godfather. A man I owe great respect to. And if I don’t accept it, it’ll offend him. That’s not something I can afford right now.” He explains calmly. 
I narrow my eyes. “A honeymoon?”
He tilts his head. “A week-long stay in a private hotel in the French countryside. Exclusive. Luxurious. Guarded.”
The way he says guarded sends a chill down my spine.
“When are we supposed to go?” I ask, trying to mask my growing irritation.
“In a week,” he answers coolly, setting his glass down on the nearby table while gazing at me. 
“And what if I say I’m not going?” I shoot back, arching a brow, challenging him.
His expression darkens just slightly, just enough to make the air shift.
He steps closer, his voice low and calm, but laced with steel. “Then I’ll simply drag you along with me, Lily. You’re my wife now. And you better not disappoint me.” He says this very easily. 
A beat of silence stretches between us. My heart pounds, but I don’t let it show.
I laugh, softly almost defiantly. “Exactly the kind of husband every girl dreams of.”
He smirks faintly, tilting his head. “And you? Exactly the kind of wife I never imagined.”
Ouch…
Our gazes clash, tension crackling like static in the air between us. He’s infuriating. Dangerous. And yet, part of me can’t look away from his mesmerizing look.
“Four days,” I mutter under my breath, grabbing my phone. “Great. Just enough time to lose my mind.”
My phone buzzes repeatedly with messages from Bella.
“You’re MARRIED?!”“God, Lily, say something!”“How did this even happen?!”I sigh and finally type back:
“Yeah… I’m married. I’ll explain everything tomorrow. Still trying to recover from this nightmare.”
I press send, drop the phone beside me, and close my eyes. It still doesn’t feel real.
“We still have the reception to attend,” Sebastian says quietly beside me.
I don’t respond. My chest feels tight, like I’m suffocating beneath layers of silk, lace, and lies.
“For the sake of appearances—and your own dignity—can we just go out there?” he adds, his tone taut with restrained irritation.
I shake my head, my voice low but steady. “I don’t respect anyone anymore, Sebastian.”
His jaw clenches. “Lily,” he warns, “don’t make me furious. For God’s sake, we’re married now.”
I let out a sigh, grab my phone from the bed, and mutter, “Fine.”
We step out of the quiet room into the grandeur of the mansion’s hallway, where golden chandeliers reflect off marble floors and the distant hum of music and laughter echoes from the ballroom. The air smells of cigars, cologne, and champagne.
“This place,” Sebastian says as we walk side by side, “belongs to the Godfather himself. It was his gift—to host our wedding here. He was pleased to witness it.”
I nod stiffly, still numb.
The moment we enter the ballroom, hundreds of eyes turn to us. The guests are dressed in designer suits and glittering gowns, sipping from crystal flutes, their expressions ranging from curiosity to judgment. A few women stare shamelessly at the ring on my finger; their lips curl with envy or disbelief—I can’t tell.
Sebastian gently places his hand on my lower back, guiding me through the crowd. “Come,” he says. “There are people you should meet.”
First, he introduces me to his two brothers—Antonio and Dante. Both are tall like him, broad-shouldered and sharp-featured, with short beards and sharp eyes that glint with mischief.
“Finally, someone who might keep our brother in check,” Antonio grins.
“She’s braver than she looks then,” Dante adds with a wink.
I manage a small, polite smile.
Then comes Stina—his cousin. She’s elegant, in a sleek red dress and a warm smile that instantly softens my guard.
“I’ve been so impatient to meet you,” she whispers. “And don’t worry—we’re not all terrifying.”
“Good to know,” I whisper back.
Finally, Sebastian leads me to a powerful-looking man with steel-gray hair, a tailored black suit, and a cane carved from ivory. His presence demands silence without a single word.
“Lily,” Sebastian says, “this is my father—Don Manchini.”
The man takes my hand and kisses my palm gently. “As of today, you are my daughter,” he says, his voice deep and commanding. “Welcome to la famiglia.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, barely above a whisper.
All around, people continue to gawk. Their whispers feel like needles pricking at my skin. I tug slightly at the edge of my dress, fidgeting.
Sebastian notices. Without hesitation, he pulls me closer, wrapping a protective arm around my waist. His touch burns, yet somehow it shields me from their stares.
“They’re just curious,” he leans in to say. “Let them watch. You’re mine now.” He holds my hand and presses it firmly, as if he is trying to make me feel safe. Well at least he is trying…
I glance up at him. His eyes are unreadable, calm on the surface, but dangerous beneath.
And just like that, I realize the performance has only just begun. I am married…
I am Lily Manchini. 
God help me.