The scent of crushed roses clung to Luna's fingers as she arranged the last bouquet of the evening. Outside the frost-tinted window of the flower shop, the city pulsed with traffic and the flicker of neon signs. It was just another late shift. Another quiet night.
Until the black car pulled up.
Sleek. Silent. Dangerous.
It parked directly in front of the shop, engine still humming. Luna frowned, brushing her loose hair behind her ear as the door opened and two men in sharp suits stepped out.
They didn't look like customers.
The taller one entered first, eyes scanning the room like a security sweep. His gaze landed on her.
"Luna Cross?" he asked, voice cold and precise.
She straightened slowly. "Who's asking?"
The second man walked in, holding a slim black envelope.
"This is for you," he said, placing it on the counter like a loaded weapon.
Luna hesitated. Everything about the envelope felt wrong too clean, too heavy. Her fingers trembled as she opened it.
Inside was a contract.
A marriage contract.
Her name was printed at the top in bold serif type.
Bride: Luna Cross.
Groom: Damien Wolfe.
She blinked, heart thundering. "This this has to be a mistake."
"It is not." The first man's voice was devoid of emotion. "Mr. Wolfe expects your cooperation. The engagement will be publicly announced in seven days."
Luna laughed. It was hollow and confused. "I don't even know the man."
"You will." He paused. "Refusal is not an option."
And with that, they turned and left.
Back at her apartment, Luna sat in the dark, contract still clutched in her hand. The paper seemed to vibrate with menace, the name Damien Wolfe burned into her thoughts. Why her? Why now?
She reached for her phone to call her aunt the woman who raised her but the line went dead the moment it connected.
Then the explosion came.
A flash. A roar. A rush of heat.
The windows shattered, throwing her backward. Flames licked up the hallway outside her door. Smoke filled the apartment within seconds.
She barely escaped.
An hour later, soaked in soot and blood, Luna sat in the back seat of a luxury car. Her head was spinning. Sirens wailed in the distance.
Across from her, a man in a tailored black coat watched her in silence. He was devastatingly handsome, but ice-cold. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his grey eyes like storm clouds ready to strike.
"Who are you?" she whispered, voice raw.
"Damien Wolfe," he replied smoothly. "Your fiancé."
She stared at him in disbelief. "What is happening to me?"
He leaned forward, voice low and deliberate. "You're not who you think you are, Luna. And if you don't marry me… they'll kill you before midnight."
Luna's breath hitched. The air in the car felt too thick, too sharp, like she was breathing in smoke all over again.
She stared at him. "Kill me? Who are they?"
Damien's gaze didn't waver. "The ones who've been waiting for you to show your face. The ones who burned your apartment to make sure you had no place left to hide."
She blinked. "You're insane."
"No," he said calmly, "but you will be if you keep pretending this world is safe."
Luna gripped the edge of the seat, her nails biting into the leather. "You can't just… decide to marry someone and burn down their home."
"I didn't set the fire." His voice dipped lower. "I stopped them from killing you. For now."
"For now?" Her heart slammed against her ribs. "Why would anyone want me dead?"
He hesitated—just for a second. And in that silence, she caught something she wasn't expecting in his expression.
Pity.
"You really don't know," Damien murmured. "They wiped everything."
She frowned. "Wiped what?"
"Your memory. Your name. Your entire history." He leaned back against the seat. "Your parents were royalty in a world you were never meant to return to. But your bloodline didn't vanish with them, Luna."
She froze.
He didn't stop.
"You're Luna Virelli. Only daughter of Riccardo and Selena Virelli the most feared mafia leaders this country has ever known."
Luna stared at him, her body cold. "No… No, that's not possible. My parents died in a car crash. I was raised in a church by"
"By the same people paid to keep you hidden," Damien finished, voice sharp. "And when the money ran out, so did their protection."
She shook her head, trying to breathe, trying to make sense of the tidal wave of lies. "This is insane. Mafia? Bloodline? I'm just a nobody."
"No," Damien said quietly. "You're a very expensive target."
The car rolled to a stop outside a towering estate on the cliffs. A wrought-iron gate opened without a sound. The mansion loomed above like a fortress made of glass and shadow.
"You'll stay here now," Damien said, stepping out and offering no hand.
Luna hesitated at the door. "Why are you doing this?"
He paused, then turned to face her. His voice was quiet, but the weight of it was iron.
"Because your name is more dangerous than your enemies. And if you don't claim it soon… someone else will."
Luna swallowed hard, her heart thudding painfully in her chest.
"My name," she echoed. "Luna… Virelli."
It didn't feel real. It didn't feel like her.
But the fire. The car. The threat of death it all was.
Her old life had ended the moment that envelope arrived.
Now, standing before a world she didn't understand, Luna did the only thing she could.
She stepped out of the car… and walked into the dark.