When The Devil Fell For The Wrong Bride

Ariella’s POV

Bang! Bang!

The sound of gunshots broke through the still night that day. Putting everyone in fear in the city of Naples.

My coffee felled from my hand, dropped to ground and shattered. My hands began to shake and my heart dropped in my stomach.

People started screaming from the neighborhood. Everyone in the Romano villa was shaking in fear.

They were here.

My pulse thundered in my chest as the sound of boots was approaching the door. I could see men, dressed in black unform, with guns, and their faces covered with masks. My fingers were shaking and I held the edge of the table beside as if it was going to save me.

Despite this, Dad and Mom were relaxed inside their room comfortably like nothing was happening.

This was supposed to be a fake abduction. A Mafia tradition. A show of power.

But in that moment, with the sounds of glass breaking and bullets flying outside, nothing felt fake.

The Morettis and the Romanos had been enemies, fighting for power for years now. Two names whispered in fear across Naples. Both families had spilled blood for control of the city. To stop the endless war, our fathers, Don Moretti and Don Romano, has reached an agreement.

A marriage deal.

A truce sealed not with peace, but with a wedding ring.

Vincenzo Moretti, heir to the Moretti empire, a ruthless, cold and feared man would marry Luciana Romano, my older sister.

Luciana was everything I wasn’t. She's beautiful, proud and very stubborn, with a voice that could cut glass. She was born to rule. I was the quiet one, the soft whisper behind her arrogant life.

But Luciana never wanted this marriage. She wanted to live a life full of freedom, not with a Mafia husband whose name made grown men tremble. A man she would never control.

And that’s why, tonight, I was the one they’ve come to take. Because Luciana and I had switched places.

……..

That fateful night, She had banged into my room with force that almost threw me out of couch. Just as the clock struck midnight. The air smelled of jasmine from the garden outside, soft and warm. She was dressed in silk, her hair long scattered in different directions, and her eyes were looking tired.

“They’re planning to take me tomorrow,” she said, her voice filled with anger, pacing the room. “The Morettis. They call it tradition a show of strength before the marriage.”

My expression changed immediately. “You mean the fake kidnapping?”

She stopped pacing and turned to me, and nodded. “Yes. They’ll come with their guns and masks, pretend to steal me like a trophy. I just heard Dad speaking Don Morettis about it over the phone. What a joke.”

She laughed bitterly.

“You don’t have to go through with it,” I whispered.

She looked at me, eyes burning with anger. “Don’t you see Ariella? I have no choice. Dad would rather kill me than let me