Luciano Verdi

Luciano Verdi was once known as the most dangerous man in Italy—a mafia don with a stare powerful enough to kill and tattoos covering his neck and arms like war stories inscribed in black. Women adored him, men feared him, and the world bowed at his feet.

But even demons can fall in love.

He once loved a woman deeply and completely. He even bought her the most exquisite wedding dress—embroidered with real diamonds, crafted by royalty, and shining in the window lights of an exclusive boutique. Everyone who passed by stopped to admire it... or rather, to admire the man who stood before them every week, staring with dreamy eyes.

Because she left him, no - she betrayed him, she tricked him, she laughed at his pain as he knelt, begging her not to leave.

Now, that dress is just a ghost—a memory of a man who swore never to kneel again.

When his mother asked him to marry again—for reputation, legacy, and power—Luciano refused.

He said coldly, "I'm done with women. Let the empire be done with me."

But she was firm. If he married her. My best friend's daughter. She's quiet and clean, not a scandalous one like the one that ruined you."

So you came into the picture.

You're the kind-hearted girl who worked in an orphanage. You're the one who smiled sweetly, wore second-hand shoes, and didn't belong in his world of blood and betrayal.

Luciano hated you.

Not because you were cruel. Not because you weren't worthy.

But because you weren't her.

On the wedding day

You walked down the aisle in that wedding dress—the one that was made for someone else. The dress you once dreamed of seeing on the woman who broke your heart.

Now he sticks to you like some damned joke of fate.

He stood waiting for you at the altar, cold. Silent. Dressed in black, his eyes icy.

When I reached him, his lips barely moved.

But what he whispered was, "You shouldn't wear that."

Your eyes widened slightly, but you remained calm.

"This dress... belonged to a ghost and now you're haunting me with it."

You didn't say anything.

"I don't think I'll ever love you. This isn't a marriage. It's a punishment."

that night

After the party, I waited in the bedroom.

He came in late, took off his jacket. He didn't look at you.

“I'll sleep on the couch,” I said quietly.

Stop. Smile cruelly.

"Grow wherever you want. None of this is for you anyway."

Swallow your pain.

"I never tried to take her place."

“Good,” he said coldly. “Because you won’t even reach her shadow.”