Giuliana’s POV

I was five when I first held a gun.  

Six when I saw a man shot between the eyes.  

Eleven when I watched my mother die.  

She collapsed in front of me, a black hole in the back of her skull, her blood spilling onto the dinner table. Into my soup. The scent of copper drowned out everything else.  

I remember staring at my white top—no longer white. A single tear slipped down my cheek.  

"Maria!" My father’s broken voice echoed as he clutched her body.  

I reached for her hand, my small fingers rubbing against her cold skin. "Mama, open your eyes. The bad guys are gone now."  

She didn’t.  

"They won’t hurt you anymore. Papa will protect you."  

But when I looked up at him, all I saw was grief. And guilt.  

That night, I realized something. My father—Donatello Morano—hadn’t pulled the trigger. But he hadn’t stopped it either.  

Since then, I secretly hated him.  

I grew up surrounded by death. My father’s men never used silencers around me. He wanted me to hear the gunshots, to understand that this was my world.  

"Stay away from love," he told me once. "It’s just a fairy tale meant for weak princesses."  

Yet the night my mother died, he whispered into her hair, "Ti amo più della mia stessa respirazione." I love you more than my breath.  

But love didn’t save her. It killed her.  

I tried to tell him that once. I stood beside him while he scrubbed blood from his hands, my voice steady. "This is my life now. I won’t run from it." 

He sighed. "You are my princess, not my soldier. Stick to your role."  

"Like Mama did?" My voice was bitter. "You caged her. You made her believe she was safe. But you left her defenseless."  

He said nothing.  

I thought I had earned his respect.  

I didn’t realize I had just started counting my days under his roof.  

I am Giuliana Morano, the only daughter of Donatello Morano—heir to the second most powerful Italian mafia family in Colombia.  

****

Years Later – The Gala  

The Morano gala was always the same.  

Elegant. Extravagant. Suffocating.  

I played my role well. The perfect mafia princess—poised, untouchable, silent. But tonight, I felt restless. The air in the ballroom was thick, the music too loud, the people too fake.  

So I left.  

My silk gown trailed behind me as I stepped into the quiet hallway, inhaling deeply.  

Then I saw it.

A single red flower in a glass vase by the window.

It was nothing—just decor, placed there to brighten the cold corridors. But the sight of it made my stomach tighten.

Because red had never meant beauty to me.

It meant blood.

And just like that, a memory came crashing back.

I was seven. I should have listened.

Mama had always told me to stay where it was safe, to never question things that weren’t meant for me. But that night, I had wanted to prove something—I had wanted to show I wasn’t afraid.

So I followed her.

She had been tense all evening, her hands gripping the pearls around her neck, her eyes flicking toward the clock. I had never seen her like that before.

I snuck behind her as she walked toward the private wing of the house, my tiny feet silent against the cold marble floors.

She met with a man I didn’t recognize.

He wasn’t one of Papa’s men. He was too calm, too sure of himself.

"You shouldn't have come," she whispered urgently.

"Maria," the man sighed. "It's done. You need to leave before he finds out."

Leave? Leave what?

Then Mama’s body went rigid.

She turned sharply—her gaze locking onto me.

My heart stopped.

"Giuliana." Her voice was cold, warning. "Go back to your room. Now."

But I didn’t move.

The man beside her frowned. "Who is—"

"Leave!" she hissed at him, panic flashing in her eyes.

I didn’t understand what was happening, but something in her face made my chest tighten.

And then—

Then I collided with something solid, the earlier memory vanishing from my head.

No, it wasn't something. It was someone.

A hand shot out, gripping my arm to steady me before shoving me back just as fast.  

"It wouldn’t kill you to watch where you’re going, principessa," a low voice muttered.  

The accent was not unfamiliar—Italian, but rougher, colder.  

I steadied myself, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"  

He stood there, tall and composed, like he owned the space he occupied. His dark hair was slightly tousled, his icy blue eyes cutting through me like a blade. I had been surrounded by dangerous men my entire life, but something about him felt different.  

No. Worse.

His presence sent a slow shiver down my spine, an instinctual warning I refused to acknowledge.  

"What the hell is your problem?" I snapped, adjusting the sleeve of my gown.  

"You ran into me," he said simply.  

I scoffed. "Maybe if you paid attention, jerk."  

His lips curved—not quite a smile, not quite a smirk. Something dangerous lived there, something meant to unsettle.  

"Be careful," he murmured. "Not everyone will care that you’re Daddy’s little princess."  

I clenched my fists.  

"Who are you?" I demanded.  

"Emiliano," he said. No last name. No explanation.  

Something about him felt off. He didn’t look like my father’s usual business partners, nor one of his soldiers.  

"Are you one of my father’s men, or just another stray dog?" I taunted, my voice dripping with condescension.  

His expression didn’t change, but I saw the shift. The way his body stilled. The way his fingers flexed, as if restraining the urge to react.  

The surrounding air thickened, charged with something both volatile and magnetic.  

Most men flinched when I spoke with such defiance. But Emiliano?  

He simply stared. A silent battle waged between us—one I wasn’t sure I wanted to win.  

Then, finally, his lips parted.  

"Dog, it is," I chuckled.  

I turned to leave, expecting him to let me go.  

Instead, his hand shot out, fingers curling around my wrist. Not tight, not painful. But firm. Commanding.

I inhaled sharply, my pulse betraying me.  

"You should be more careful with your words, Giuliana," he murmured, using my name like it was a secret only he was meant to know.  

I forced myself to meet his gaze. "And you should learn when to let go."  

For a second, neither of us moved. The tension coiled, a silent game of power and defiance.  

Then he released me, taking a single step back.  

A knowing smile ghosted his lips. "Enjoy your evening, principessa."  

And just like that, he was gone.  

Leaving me standing there, my skin still burning where he touched me.  

I didn’t know then that I had just met the man who would ruin me.  

Giuliana's POV

I knew I was unshakable.  

‘Steel,’ I would tell myself whenever I saw something that other girls my age would run from.  

I had seen strong men cry for their lives, before being eaten by my father's dogs. I had seen severed human parts scattered at Papa's gory house. I had even stepped on a fresh rotten skull, but I never flinched. Death was served as dinner in Morano's mansion. A side of torture, every hour.  

But this?  

This made my blood run cold.  

I hadn't meant to see him push his tongue down her throat like he was searching for something he personally kept there…but I couldn't just will myself to move.  

My hand clenched on the steel pillar as I watched them scavenge each other's bodies.  

“Emiliano,” she moaned as he grabbed her boobs, his hands kneading them with reckless desperation. In return, she held onto his neck, strongly for balance.  

Bianca Conti, a woman of status, cried in pleasure like a common wh*re for an ordinary man.  

“You're going to kill me,” she moaned into his mouth, her hands struggling to unfasten his belt.  

I continued to watch, disgust seeping in, but strangely… I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The scene twisted something in me, pulling up memories I didn't want to face.

I felt my chest tighten, as the memory slammed into me with full force.  

I was just a little girl then. My mother was always so graceful, so full of elegance. I had always seen her as the perfect woman — a queen beside my father.  

But that evening, everything changed.  

I had stumbled into the hallway, clutching a drawing I had made for her birthday, only to freeze at the sight of her. She was standing close to a man, someone I had never seen before. His hands were on her waist, his face dangerously close to hers.  

The sight was wrong. My heart thudded in my chest. I could feel the anger rising even then, hot and burning. How could she? How could she betray Papa?  

I remembered how the man smiled, how my mother’s eyes darted nervously, trying to pull away from him. But it was too late. I had already seen everything. I had witnessed my mother, the woman I had always revered, in an intimate embrace with another man.  

I hated that man. I hated him for making my mother cheat on my father, the man who loved her with his whole heart. And just like that, my world seemed to shatter.  

As I stood there frozen, a sickening realization took hold of me. My mother, the woman I thought was beyond reproach, was capable of hurting Papa, of destroying everything we had built. And it was all because of that man.  

Now, as I stood in the shadows, watching Emiliano do the same thing, that same fury burned through me again. He had made Bianca cheat on her husband — just like the man had made my mother betray my father.  

I could feel the anger bubbling inside me, the same hatred I had buried for years now surging to the surface. I clenched my fist around the steel pillar, as I watched them—my blood boiling.  

“Emiliano,” she moaned again, pulling me back to the present moment, as he roughly pulled her closer.  

My eyes flicked over to him, the man who was now at the center of my rage. He had done it. He had taken a woman and made her forget loyalty, just like the man from my past had done to my mother.  

“You’re going to kill me,” Bianca moaned, lost in her lustful haze, while Emiliano’s smirk grew.  

My eyes narrowed as I felt my body tense.  

I hated him.  

Just as I turned to leave, wishing to rid myself of the anger and disgust, his eyes locked onto mine. A smirk spread across his lips.  

“Enjoying the show, Principessa?” he taunted.  

My stomach dropped. I would rather not face the woman who had just been cheating on a mafia lord with an ordinary made man. Neither did I want to be confronted by the said man.  

“Giuliana…” my thoughts were cut short when I heard her call my name. She stared at me with guilt-stricken eyes. “Wh-what are you doing here?” Her voice was so soft, I barely heard her.  

“Fresh air,” I replied without much thought, my voice clipped as I tried to avoid looking at Emiliano.  

“You don’t have to explain it to me... It's none of my business,” I added, trying to mask the rage churning inside me.  

She quickly adjusted herself before walking out onto the balcony, not sparing Emiliano or I another glance.  

I watched her leave, her hips swaying seductively, as I felt a strange mixture of bitterness and jealousy coil inside me. She was beautiful, in the way only someone who had been adored and worshiped could be.  

“Looks like someone’s ready to spill blood,” Emiliano’s voice broke through my thoughts.  

I turned back to him, my gaze as cold as ice.  

"Only you would know when someone's ready to spill blood... after all, you've probably cut through more human skin than you have through steaks," I retorted, the bitterness in my tone clear.  

“Your father wouldn’t like it if I told you the amount of ‘proditore’ I kill every day,” he mocked, leaning in slightly, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement.  

I glared at him, the mention of my father striking a nerve.  

I turned to leave.  

“You looked like you were jealous earlier,” he said, his voice smooth. “Or were you just enjoying the performance?”  

I froze, but didn’t turn around.  

I turned back to face him, ready to fire back, only to realize he had moved closer. Our bodies were now mere inches apart.  

I didn’t step back. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his proximity affected me.  

“I’ve seen a better performance from a dying, bloodied man choking on his own blood... yours doesn’t even come close,” I seethed.  

“And yet, you stood there, watching me f*ck her with my digits, your mouth almost drooling with saliva,” he taunted, his smirk turning into something much darker.  

My body trembled with anger. I didn’t understand how this man, this insufferable bastard, could make me so furious. So… flustered.  

“I don’t give a flying f*ck about what you do... you’re no more than a slave to me and my father, got it?” I growled, my eyes blazing.  

His expression remained unchanged, but the amusement in his eyes only deepened.  

“I’m not playing these dirty games with you. Go to Hell!” I snapped, turning sharply on

my heel.  

But just before I walked away, I felt his gaze searing into my back.  

F**king bastard.

****

The party was almost over, and I let out a sigh of relief.

Just then, I heard someone clink their glass, drawing everyone's attention.

Papa stood at the front of the state, his face holding no emotion as usual.

"I welcome you all to my annual ball," he started. "Today is not just for me but for someone very special to my heart...the second woman who holds the biggest space in my heart," he said, his voice sounding softer than they usually do. His eyes found mine at the back of the room.

“Bambina,” he called, smiling at me.

I smiled back at him, though I was still shocked as to why he had said he was also celebrating with me, but I still went up to him.

"Papa," I greeted softly, my eyes holding his adoringly.

"Bambina, you know how much I adore you and how your mother would want the best for you. She had always hoped you would find a man who would love and protect you the way you deserved." He touched my face softly.

"Papa, what are you talking about?" I asked as my heart beat wildly against my chest.

I prayed it wasn't what I thought.

“Your engagement has been arranged” he smiled.

My stomach twisted painfully. “I'm not ready, Papa," I whispered. "It's too early," I whispered softly, not wanting anyone else to hear me.

“It's time," he sighed. "You'll have to get married eventually,” he said softly, his eyes staring intently at mine.

This was too soon. It hadn't crossed my mind that papa would start looking for my suitor this early.

I shook my head. “Papa, you can't_”

“I can and I will. The wedding is set to happen in two weeks”.

“What?” my eyes widened, looking around at everyone in the hall. But they were all oblivious to what was happening between my father and I.

Papa held his hand up, signaling for someone to be brought.

Suddenly, the door opened to reveal the man that I would never have imagined being standing with me and my father in such a situation.

Emiliano…in all his glory.

"Papa, you can't do__you can't do this."

“Giuliana, meet your fiancé, Emiliano Giovanni,” Papa announced. “My manager.”

The room spun. My jaw hung loosely around my mouth.

“No...you can't be serious!” I cried out.

“Don't be rude, Bambina, and you'll marry him,” he scolded me, staring at the audience that now held curious faces. “He'll protect you, he's my most trusted man.” He spoke in a very quiet tone.

“Over my f*cking dead body...I'm not marrying this man,” I seethed, my voice incredibly low.

I knew we were causing a scene, but I didn't care. I won't let papa hand me over to a man-whore like Emiliano.

“You don't dare defy me. You do what I say, or you face the consequences!” Papa said, his face much closer to mine.

“And what will you do?" I scoffed. "Throw me in the gory house and skin me alive?” I briefly glanced at Emiliano before I turned my back to my dad. "Trust me, I'd rather be buried alive than take this man as my husband. No, papa!”

"Leave!" He turned to Emiliano.

Emiliano gave me a look...was he concerned? I wasn't sure.

But he left when papa glared at him, telling him not to push his boundaries.

Papa grabbed my hand, turning me to face the guests that now looked at us weirdly. I couldn't blame them. It isn't everyday you see Don Donatello almost losing his wit to his princess.

But this was my life.

"Smile," he sneered. And I did. I faked a smile, pretending this was just a normal conversation, and I was happy about my impromptu engagement.

“Your death won't be that easy, Bambina,"he breathed into my ear. "You know what I do with my traitors, right?” He said into my ear, conspicuously.

I knew well what he did with those who betrayed him, but he still went on.

“I cut off their tongues so they don't tell lies anymore."

“I broke every single bone present when they sold their souls to my enemies. You know all this,” he glared at me. “But I promise, I won't even make it that easy for you.”

“I'll destroy and spread your body, so everyone sees what happens when you defy Don Morano.”

He smiled, raising his glass up to celebrate my bee engagement. And I did the same.

The Gun In His Hand

Giuliana's pov

(Three weeks before the wedding)

I paced round the room, the conversation from earlier infiltrating my mind sporadically.

I fist my hand, my body burning with anger. How could Papa marry me off to Emiliano? And who would have thought he was actually a senior manager of one of his companies, not one of his loyal minions?

“Did papa mean everything he said?”

“Would he really kill me if I refused this proposal?”

“I’ll spread your body, so everyone sees what happens when you defy Don Morano,” I recalled his earlier words. Just the thought of his threat made goosebumps spread on my skin.

I had stomped out of the study like a little child who had just been banned from eating candy.

I had to stop this marriage one way or the other. I can't get married to that bastard.

“I hate him so much!” I screamed, grabbing my hair in frustration. I would rather marry my father's butler than that arrogant bastard. "He's so shameless,” I continued to rant to myself.

“Maybe if I could get rid of him…kill him perhaps,” I smiled evilly as I thought of big different ways to end the sick bastard’s life.

“Who do you plan to kill? My service might be needed.”

I jumped at the sound of a thick voice, my hands pressed to my chest.

I looked up to see the devil staring down at me, his face bare of any emotion.

“Why would you scare me like that?” I cried.

“It's not my fault you were busy trying to escape your fate when I kept knocking on your door,” he responded, his eyes boring into mine. “Who are you planning to kill, Principessa?"

“None of your damn business!” I spat back, glaring at him. “You could at least act a bit responsibly while under my father's roof. What if I was naked?”

“Your body doesn't come close to any I've caressed or killed...you're anything but special,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I will sleep with a pig, rather than let you ever come close to my body," I said. "You're worth nothing more than a puppet to my family. Don't you dare forget your place.”

“Just because you think you're a flimsy manager in Papa's lowest-ranked company does not make you someone here,” I seethed, my words coming out sharper than I intended.

He stared at me, his posture still tall and confident, like all the words I had just thrown at him meant nothing to him.

The silence that stretched between us felt more like an hour, no one willing to back down from the glare.

And then it hit me. He hadn't said the reason he barged into my room.

“What do you want?” I asked, my eyes still on him. I couldn't dare to leave his sight. It felt like if I let my guard down for a second, he would attack. That was how much I didn't trust this man.

I knew his type. He was the worst of those filthy traitors.

“You need to stop resisting this arrangement”

“Too bad, I don't do well with submitting orders...now get out!” I said, moving back to sit on my sofa.

But he stood back. His eyes roamed the corners of my room, like he was trying to find a clue of something dirty I was engaged in.

“I'd rather die than be your prisoner bride, Emiliano”

“You don't own a place here, not in this mansion, not in my heart," I clenched my teeth.

“Careful what you wish for, or I might just be kind enough to grant your wish,” he said, his eyes returning to me. I watched as his eyes trailed my body. My silk night dress had now ridden up due to my seated position, his eyes latching on the skin of my thighs. “Besides, your heart is of no use to me."

I opened my mouth to deliver a retort back when I heard a loud BANG.

I jumped out of my seat with a loud scream, trying to hide under the small coffee table, when I felt a hand grab mine and drag me.

“Get your filthy hands-” I tried to shout when another loud bang shook the building.

We were under attack.

My heart jumped wildly against my chest, my eyes squeezed shut.

The last attack I experienced was when I witnessed my mum get shut in her throat.

Emiliano dragged me out of my room and down the stairs. Just then, one of Papa's men ran towards us, attempting to push us away from an incoming bullet, the bullet hitting him instead. I screamed in disgust when his blood spilled on my face.

Emiliano continued to drag me away from the scene, my feet following hurriedly.

Bodies and bodies continued to fall on the tiled floor, the ground now stained a crimson red, a disgusting stench slowly filling the room.

My stomach twisted horribly from seeing all the dead bodies littered on the floor.

Before Emiliano could get close to the basement, more intruders walked in, bullets flying in random motion. He quickly pushed me down, his breath coming down heavily.

“You need to stay here... I need to go help the boss”, Emiliano screamed over the loud sound of the guns.

My eyes widened in slight fear. I had experienced something close to this before, and Papa had even trained me in self-defense, but still, I couldn't believe Emiliano was ready to leave his ‘fiancé’ in a gunfire scene.

“Are you really leaving me here?” I growled at him. "You're supposed to protect me, not my father, who has spent years living this kind of life. He is a mafia lord!”

“My loyalty lies with your father, not to his brat of a daughter who thinks everyone should bow to her feet,” he spat back before running out from under the table where he left me to fend for myself.

I suppressed the scream of frustration that bubbled irritatingly in my chest. I looked at the floor, noticing a gun on my feet.

“He thinks giving me a gun is enough to protect me?” I scoffed, shaking my head.

I wasn't going to sit under this table where I knew just anyone could find me. So I stood up and ran towards the basement, throwing the robe off my shoulder, its weight once restricting me.

The basement was safer. A place only Papa, his loyal men, and I knew the safe code to.

Just then, a shadow moved in front of me, and before I could bring the gun up to his face, his fist collided with my jaw, throwing me off the ground and landing on the floor with a loud thud.

Pain exploded through my entire body, the distinct smell of gunpowder filling my nose completely.

I urged my eyes to open, looking at the perpetrator. And in his hand was a gun, pointed to my head, off its safety.

My hands searched the space near me, frantically looking for the gun I held just moments ago…but it was nowhere.

It was then I realized my fate.

I was going to die, all because my fiancé was too much of a dick to protect me.

Just then, at that short moment, I recalled Papa's words, “He's one of my most trustworthy men. I wouldn't just hand you over to an ordinary worker. He'll protect you, Bambina.” Papa tried to reassure him.

Joke’s on him.

And *BANG* the gun went off. I braced for the pain…but it never came, instead a body fell over me.

A body that smelled strangely familiar to the man who I swore I hated more than the devil.

Emiliano groaned as blood sputtered out of his stomach, while his hands gripped his gun, shooting the other man before I could register a scream out of my mouth.