Benedict

Veronica had been forced to marry a man who was much older than her. She hadn't chosen him. She didn't know him. She had heard nothing about him except for the name that hung over her like a threat: Benedict.

Every time Veronica asked about him, the answers were always the same. Silence. Awkward glances. Closed doors.

No one dared to speak of Benedict. On the wedding day, Veronica stood before the mirror, dressed in white. The reflection returned an image she didn't recognize. Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the fabric of her dress.

Her father stood behind her.

"I don't know him..." Veronica whispered, her voice full of suppressed anger, "No one tells me anything. I only know his name. Benedict. That cursed mafioso."

Her father frowned immediately.

"Don't you dare speak of your future husband that way," he said sternly. "You will marry him, whether you want to or not."

Veronica turned her head, her eyes glistening.

"And if I refuse? If I don't go to that altar?"

The man remained silent for a few seconds. Then he spoke in a lower, darker tone.

"If you don't go, Benedict will take matters into his own hands. Believe me, daughter," he continued, avoiding looking her directly in the eyes, "You do not want to provoke a man like Benedict. He is not kind when he is disobeyed... and he does not forgive defiance."