Stuck in a Mafia Romance

Viella pov

My smile vanished the moment I stepped out of that cursed luxury boutique.

Gone.

Like my will to live... and my entire month’s allowance.

I stared down at the shopping bag. Inside was one dress. One. As in singular. As in the only thing I could afford before my card gasped and died.

"All that for a piece of fabric and a little dignity," I muttered, climbing into my car.

I pulled the door shut with more drama than necessary and slumped into the seat.

Why? Because I spent over a thousand dollars trying to look cool in front of my terrifyingly rich, mafia-lord fiancé. For what?

A half-second eyebrow twitch from him?

Guess his mildly surprised face was priceless.

Still not worth losing half my soul and financial stability.

And to make things worse?

"Viella’s father"- which, okay, is technically my father now- cut off this month’s money.

Because of "disgracing the family name."

Bruh, I am the disgrace. What did you expect?

—

By the time I returned to the mansion, I expected peace.

Instead, the moment I stepped through the front doors, the tension in the air hit me like a frying pan. Even the maids looked scared.

"What now?" I asked, kicking off my heels and waving at a maid

One of them bowed with that awkward we-don’t-want-to-die-today energy and said,

"Madam has appointed a fashion Designer to prepare you for tonight’s party, Miss Vielle."

My face dropped.

"What? Why?"

"She said... and I quote... ’If she embarrasses me tonight, I’ll have her lips removed.’"

Oh, great.

The usual motherly affection in this household.

—

I dragged myself to my room, and just as I stepped out of the shower in my fluffy robe, there she was.

The devil in heels.

My makeup artist.

All sparkly eyes and high-pitched gasps.

"OH MY GOD, YOUR FACE IS A MASTERPIECE—"

Here we go again. Gonna be some long hours~

----------

THREE THOUSANDS YEARS LATER (3hours)

My neck was stiff. My head hurt. My back? Gone.

But when I finally opened my eyes...

Damn.

"Okay wait—WHO is that?" I whispered, literally jumping in shock.

That reflection?

Cheekbones sharp

Eyes shadowed

Lips? Glossed.

I blinked.

"Vielle is GORGEOUS, MAN."

Like I always knew she had potential, but this was a full-on villainess glow-up. I looked like I could bankrupt someone and steal their man just by walking into the room.

"You’re welcome," the makeup artist smirked, snapping her tools shut like she just performed surgery. "All it takes is good bone structure and a thousand-dollar contour kit."

"Girl, you brought me back to life."

I grabbed my phone.

Takes 347 selfies.

Also me: "Gotta humble myself. I look too good. The plot might smite me."

Just as I finished staring at my flawless makeup and questioning my entire life, it hit me like a plot twist I should’ve seen coming.

The bracelet.

Oh no.

No no no no.

"Oh shit."

I dramatically slapped my own forehead. "I totally forgot about the bracelet!"

That freaky guy- the one who whispered creepy riddles in my ear- said it was important. "You want to live? Find the bracelet."

And what have I been doing?

Trying to be cool while being a total fool. That’s for damn sure.

"God, this is what I get for skipping the whole middle part of the book just to read the yandere scenes."

Yes. I admit it.

I never read the full novel.

I skimmed through the actual plot and devoured the spicy, obsessive, love-hate drama parts like a desperate Wattpad reader high on caffeine and fan edits.

Now look at me. Isekai’d into a villainess with a death flag growing stronger every time I blink.

I rubbed my temples and flopped onto the chair.

"What am I even supposed to do now? There’s no clue. Not even a cursed map in the attic. Just me, my heels, and the looming threat of death."

Suddenly -

My phone buzzed on the dresser.

Unknown number.

Great. More chaos?

I picked it up and squinted.

Message:

"See you tonight."

I blinked.

I texted back, hoping this wasn’t some scammer

Me: Mr freaky-ahh closet dude?

I don’t know why I said that.

Instant reply :

"You sure have good memory."

OH MY GOD IT’S HIM.

I almost threw my phone at the mirror.

Before I could text ’Where? What? WHY?’ there was a knock at my door.

"Lady Vielle," my maid called from the hallway, "Lord Dante is here to pick you up."

Of course he is.

Because this night couldn’t get worse without Mr Mafia walking in like he owns the plot.

I stared at my phone one last time, sighed dramatically, and turned off the screen.

He said "see you tonight" which means he will be there as well.

I gave myself one final look in the mirror.

Makeup? Glowing.

Outfit? Gorgeous (spent my whole monthly allowance afterall)

Eyeliner? Sharp enough to kill.

"Okay, Vielle. Time to face your emotionally unavailable fiancé, and maybe—just maybe—get your hands on that bracelet."

I grabbed my clutch, squared my shoulders, and walked out the door like I hadn’t just spiraled into a nervous breakdown.

Tonight, we find the damn bracelet.

Or die trying.

---

I was halfway down the stairs when I spotted him.

Dante.

Standing near the car like a whole mafia cover model in a tailored suit that probably cost more than my monthly allowance- oh wait, that got cancelled this month.

Nice reminder, life.

His hair was slicked back, sharp jawline even sharper, and his black suit

Right, you’re just a fictional character who might kill me. Focus.

He turned just in time to see me step out in my way-too-expensive-but-totally-worth-it dress. I didn’t even look like old Vielle today — no overdone makeup, no loud hair, just soft curls, light foundation, and a dress that actually fit.

And for a second- just a second- I saw him pause.

Subtle, but there.

Brows lifted slightly. A flicker of surprise. Maybe even... impressed?

Ha. Got him.

He cleared his throat and looked away, all serious again.

"Let’s go. We’re late."

That’s it? No compliment? No ’you look nice’?

Rude.

Still, I walked past him, brushing off his suit

"Don’t wrinkle the mood, fiancé," I muttered.

When I got into the car, I could feel the faint woosh of my perfume hitting him. He coughed lightly as he got in and adjusted his seat, avoiding eye contact. For someone who acts like he doesn’t care, he sure was suspiciously quiet.

I sat trying to keep some distance- because apparently, Alina existed, and we don’t want to hurt the feelings of the sweet original heroine, do we?

Though oddly, this time she wasn’t here.

He glanced at me through the rearview mirror.

"Don’t you think you’ll be cold in that dress?"

Huh?

Since when did this guy have a weather concern app installed in his brain?

I raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you care if I freeze?"

He looked at me, blank face. "Since when did you talk back without yelling?"

Oof. Okay. That was fair.

Since I realized yelling doesn’t change the plot, I muttered under my breath.

"Where were you on Thursday night?" Dante asked out of no where.

i realized what he wanted to know so i acted all calm and answered,

"I was stalking my crush from 7 years ago. Bruh Ofc i was at home sleeping because beauty sleep is all a lady need when it comes to beauty. But how will you know, youre too busy with your business" personally i wanted to say "with your Alina" but i love my life more.

"7 years ago...." he stopped midway as if he remembered something and stopped speaking.

He didn’t ask anymore. I didn’t explain.

The rest of the ride was quiet. Peaceful, even.

But I swear I could feel it- his occasional glances in the mirror. Short ones. Curious, but not enough to admit he was looking.

Typical ML behavior.

I caught one, raised an eyebrow, and he looked away.

I leaned back with a smile.

After all, tonight I had a mission- that bracelet.

And whether Dante liked it or not, I was going to survive this Hellish World

.

.

.

TO BE CONTINUED..