Chapter 2

The splendor of the ballroom took Ivy’s breath away. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the room, while elegantly dressed guests mingled beneath the high arches of the marble stairs. The room buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the soft music of a string quartet.

But none of it mattered.

Ivy felt out of place, like a fish among sharks. Standing at the edge of the room, her heels clicked on the polished floor as she tried to blend in. The wealth and power around her were overwhelming—women in gowns worth more than her apartment and men in suits that screamed success. Even herself, was dressed in a costume worth millions of gold sold in the mine. She never expected her life to change overnight, her simple self had just been pulled into the world of deceit.

Just as she scanned the room, she saw Rafael moving through the crowd. His sharp, dark suit gleamed under the lights . His presence was intimidating yet undeniable, as he moved with such control that felt like the whole room obeyed him..

When he had demanded that she come to this gala, she had no choice but to comply, but when he had introduced her as his wife, her world had came crashing down.

His wife.

The words still felt foreign to her. She wasn’t his wife. She hadn’t agreed to this. But Rafael had made sure she understood the stakes. It wasn’t just a title; it was her ticket into a world that could crush her in an instant if she didn’t play by his rules.

"Don’t look so lost," a voice interrupted her thoughts.

Ivy stiffened as Rafael appeared beside her. His eyes locked onto hers, his gaze sharp and unreadable.

"I didn’t ask for this. I told you, I was going to pay," Ivy said, her voice low. "You can’t just—"

"Don’t make a scene," Rafael interrupted, his tone cold. "We’re here to show them the perfect picture of a happy couple. We don’t want anyone questioning the De Luca family. You do what I say, and everything stays quiet. Don’t forget, I can still kill Mr Jasper if I want to,"

His words were laced with finality, but something in his eyes—a flicker of something softer—made Ivy hesitate.

"You’re not my wife," he murmured, though she knew how weak the protest sounded. "You are just a stand-in,” At first, Ivy felt her heart crumbling at his words. But she felt better when she realized, she will be out of there, after the night.

“I also don’t want to be your wife. A mafia….. my foot” She sneered…

Rafael’s lips twisted into a slight smile. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her arm in a way that made her skin burn. "You are really something. Mocking a mafia at his face," he said, his voice almost a whisper, "You are my wife, now. Okay,"

Her breath caught in her throat as he took a step closer. She felt the full weight of his power, his control, suffocating her. He was a man who got what he wanted—and tonight, he wanted her to be by his side, playing the role he had set for her.

"Smile," Rafael added with a faint smirk. "It’s your first appearance as Mrs. De Luca. Make it memorable."

Before Ivy could respond, he took her hand, guiding her through the crowd. The guests parted as they approached, their eyes flicking between her and Rafael with curious, almost calculating glances. Ivy felt exposed. But there was nothing she could do but follow him, letting the dark, dangerous world of the mafia close in around her like a suffocating net.

They reached a raised platform where a group of dignitaries stood, their faces filled with expectation as Rafael’s arrival was announced. The moment he stepped forward, the attention shifted entirely to him, and Ivy became nothing more than an accessory, a part of the image he had carefully constructed for everyone to see.

"Mr. De Luca," one of the men greeted him, his tone respectful but with a hint of nervousness. Rafael nodded, acknowledging the man with a subtle but powerful gesture. Then, his attention turned to Ivy, and she felt every eye in the room shift toward her.

She wasn’t just his wife; she was the symbol of his power, the trophy that proved his dominance over both the criminal underworld and the wealthy elite.

Ivy forced a smile, the kind that looked just convincing enough to be believable, though it felt like a mask that could shatter at any moment.

"Tonight is a celebration," Rafael announced, his voice carrying over the crowd, smooth and commanding. "Of power. Of loyalty. And of family."

His gaze flicked to Ivy, and she caught the glint of something unreadable in his eyes—something dark, possessive, and yet strangely protective. For a split second, Ivy wondered if he was speaking to her, not the crowd.

The tension in the room seemed to rise as Rafael stepped closer, guiding Ivy into the center of the ballroom. The music swelled, and he placed one hand on her waist, pulling her closer as the first notes of a waltz filled the air. The room watched, and Ivy felt every eye on her, every whisper.

"I don’t want all this," Ivy whispered again, barely audible over the music, the words slipping out before she could stop herself.

Rafael’s fingers tightened around her waist as they began to dance. "I know," he replied, his voice so low she almost couldn’t hear it. "But you’ll learn to live with it. Just like everything else."

As the waltz continued, Ivy tried to focus on the rhythm, but it was impossible. Rafael’s grip on her waist was firm, possessive, as though he were claiming her with every turn. The crowd around them faded as they became the center of attention, all eyes drawn to the powerful mafia boss and his new wife.

The music continued, and Ivy could feel her nerves tightening. This wasn’t just a dance. It was a show.

She had always dreamed of living a romantic life, but with the man she loved. Not a stand in husband….

She forced herself to look up at Rafael, but the cold indifference in his eyes told her that he wasn’t worried about her discomfort. He wasn’t even looking at her—not really. His gaze was scanning the room, observing the people around them as though he were analyzing every person in the room for their worth.

It was then that Ivy noticed the others in the crowd, their faces blending into the fabric of his world like silent players in a game.

As the music ended, Rafael gently steered Ivy to the side, where a few familiar faces greeted them—people Ivy had seen only on tv, all dressed in expensive suits and gowns that glittered under the chandeliers.

Just then a tall, broad-shouldered, with dark, slicked-back hair and a scar that ran down his cheek, giving him a dangerous edge. He was everything Ivy imagined a mafia to be—strong, imposing, and calculating. His cold eyes locked on Ivy for a moment, as Ivy starred at him. He looked very familiar; he moved his face back to Rafael before Ivy could process who he was….

"Rafael," He greeted, nodding respectfully. "We need to talk about the shipment in the East. The timing’s off. I think we need to—"

"Later, Marco," Rafael interrupted smoothly, his eyes scanning the room once more. "I’ll deal with it. The shipment can wait."

Marco hesitated but then nodded, taking a step back as if reading the mood. Ivy couldn’t help but notice the tension between them. There was a mutual understanding, but also a lack of trust—something simmering just beneath the surface, but she also couldn’t ignore the fact that she had seen that man before. But where?

Just as Ivy was gathering her thought, a young lady who look no different from Rafael strode forward. Unlike the others, she carried herself with a quiet, measured elegance, her platinum blonde hair pulled into a tight bun, her black dress simple yet undeniably expensive. She was the type of woman who commanded respect with just a glance. And she had been staring at Ivy ever since they arrived.

"Rafael," She said softly, her voice like silk but laced with something more dangerous. "I see you’ve brought her." She glanced at Ivy, her icy blue eyes giving nothing away.

She must be the person, he was talking to on the phone back in the car…..

Rafael met the lady’s gaze, but there was no warmth in his expression. "Don’t start, Valentina. She’s my wife now. You will treat her with respect, especially in front of the guest. We don’t know who is watching."

Ivy’s heart skipped a beat at the words, unsure of how to react. The word ‘wife’ still felt foreign to her, especially when it came from Rafael’s mouth, but she also didn’t know the kind of game she was in.

Valentina tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Of course," she said, her voice laced with something Ivy couldn’t quite place. "I won’t spoil the game, before it starts… But you know a lot of people here are planning to kill her.”

Before Rafael could respond, the whole ballroom went black-out and a loud gunshot filled the air…..