"Their Queen, Their Captive"

Chapter 1: The Game Begins

The room was suffocating. Chandeliers dripped with crystals, catching the dim light that barely softened the sharp edges of everything around me. A perfect stage for betrayal. My father's voice echoed in my head: "This is for the family."

But this wasn't for the family. It was for him.

I stood in the center of the hall, dressed like a sacrificial lamb, my silk gown clinging to my skin in all the wrong ways. The white made me feel like a fraud. There was nothing pure about this union, no romance, no joy. Just business. Just power.

And then they entered.

The First Husband: Leonardo "Leo" Vieri

Leo walked in first, his presence commanding silence. His eyes were a sharp, icy blue that felt more like knives than windows to the soul. Not that he had one. His jet-black hair was slicked back without a single strand out of place, as though chaos feared him.

He wore a black suit that fit his lean frame perfectly, not a wrinkle in sight. Everything about him was calculated, from the way he walked—slow, deliberate steps—to the faint curl of his lips that wasn't quite a smile. It was a warning.

"Miss Sophia," he said, his voice smooth but cold. He extended a hand, and when I hesitated, his smile widened just enough to show teeth. "Don't make me wait."

I placed my hand in his, and his grip was firm, unrelenting.

"You'll learn quickly," he murmured, low enough that no one else could hear. "Obedience is a skill. Let's hope you have it."

My stomach churned, but I refused to flinch. Not here. Not now.

The Second Husband: Adrian Moretti

If Leo was ice, Adrian was fire. He entered the room like he owned it, a cocky grin plastered across his face. His silver hair caught the light, messy and untamed, a perfect reflection of the man himself.

His eyes—storm-gray—flicked to mine, and he gave a slow, exaggerated whistle. "So, this is what all the fuss is about."

"Adrian," my father snapped, his tone sharp.

Adrian waved him off, shoving his hands into his pockets as he sauntered toward me. He didn't bother wearing a tie, and his shirt was half-unbuttoned, revealing tattoos that curled up his chest and neck like living shadows.

"Relax, old man," he said, stopping in front of me. He leaned in close, his smirk widening. "She's prettier than I thought. You nervous, sweetheart?"

"No," I lied, my voice steady.

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers up my spine. "Good. Nervous girls are boring."

Before I could respond, he turned to Leo, giving him a mocking salute. "What do you think, boss man? Think she'll survive us?"

Leo's eyes narrowed. "Shut up, Adrian."

The Third Husband: Nicolas "Nico" De Luca

Nico entered last, and unlike the others, he made no sound. His steps were silent, his presence almost ghostly. If Adrian was a storm and Leo was a blade, Nico was the shadow lurking just beyond the edge of the light.

His dark brown hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd run his fingers through it moments before entering. His emerald-green eyes were sharp but distant, like he was watching everything but seeing none of it.

He didn't say a word as he approached me. Instead, his gaze swept over me, taking me apart piece by piece.

"Nico," my father said, almost cautiously.

Nico glanced at him briefly before returning his attention to me. His expression was unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line. Then, without a word, he reached out and lifted my hand.

His touch was surprisingly gentle, but it didn't comfort me. It felt like he was dissecting me, weighing every flaw and strength. When he finally let go, he turned to face the others.

"Let's get this over with," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

The ceremony was short. Mercifully so.

The priest's words blurred in my ears, the weight of three rings on my finger a constant reminder that this wasn't a dream. No, this was worse.

"Do you, Sophia, take these men—"

"I do," I said before he could finish. The faster it was over, the better.

When the ceremony ended, my father was the first to step forward. He kissed my cheek, a gesture so hollow it felt like an insult.

"You've made me proud," he said.

I wanted to scream. Instead, I smiled. "Of course, Father."

The Dinner

The reception was as tense as I expected.

Leo sat at the head of the table, his cold gaze fixed on Adrian, who was pouring himself another glass of whiskey despite the barely-touched plate of food in front of him.

"You could at least pretend to care about appearances," Leo said, his tone icy.

Adrian shrugged, his smirk unwavering. "What's the point? We all know this is a circus act."

Nico said nothing, cutting his steak with meticulous precision. He hadn't looked at me since the ceremony, and I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

I sat at the far end of the table, sipping champagne and trying to disappear into the chair.

"You're quiet," Adrian said, his gray eyes locking onto mine. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?"

"Leave her alone," Leo snapped.

"Relax," Adrian said, leaning back in his chair. "I'm just trying to get to know our lovely bride."

"She doesn't need to know you," Leo said sharply.

I glanced at Nico, hoping he might intervene, but he simply set his knife down and leaned back, watching the argument with mild interest.

"Enough," my father said, his voice cutting through the tension.

The room fell silent, but the air was thick with unspoken threats.

That night, as I sat in the room they'd given me—a gilded cage—I stared at the three rings on my finger. Three symbols of power, possession, and chains.

Three men. Three prisons.

But one thought burned brighter than the rest:

I will survive this.

Not for them. Not for my father. But for me.

And when the time came, I would make sure they regretted ever thinking they could own me.