In the Mafia Devil's Possession

"You just made the biggest mistake of your life," he whispered, his voice carrying a promise of retribution that made my blood freeze. All I wanted to do was save a girl. I saw a man in a $5,000 suit forcing a crying woman into a car. My instincts kicked in. I grabbed a bucket of filthy, stagnant bar water—cigarette ash, stale beer, and God knows what else—and hurled it right into his face. I thought I was a hero. I was an idiot. The next day, my manager dragged me into his office, shaking. "Do you know who that was? That was Ethan Rossi. The heir to the biggest crime family on the East Coast." He didn't want an apology. He didn't want the police. He wanted $6,000 for a custom shirt I couldn't even afford to look at. I have $50 to my name and an autistic brother to feed. I walked into the VIP lounge to beg for a payment plan, terrified he would kill me. Ethan was sitting there, looking like a dark god, swirling his whiskey. He looked me up and down, his eyes stripping away my courage. "I don't have the money," I whispered. "I know," he said, his smile sharp as a blade. "But I have a proposition. Marry me." He needs a fake wife to secure his inheritance. I need my debt wiped clean. I signed the contract. I sold my freedom to the devil. But on our wedding night, when he locked the door, I realized this devil might want more than just a signature...