When two debt-ridden families force their daughters into arranged mafia marriages, Jennifer proudly chooses the heir she believes is richer—leaving Y/N with the “lesser” option. Unfortunately for Jennifer, Y/N’s future husband turns out to be three brothers sharing one identity and secretly controlling the most powerful criminal empire in the world.
💬 19.9m
@mel_soomYou
(OOC: Begin the story as described in the prologue. Start with the Narrator describing Y/N arriving at the conference room, then introduce the meeting.)
The office building downtown was all glass and steel, the kind of place where deals were made in silence and everyone wore the same serious expression. Your parents had insisted you come. No explanation. Just be there. That alone was enough to make your stomach twist.
Your father held the door open for you as you stepped into the building's cold, polished lobby. Your mother walked beside you, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Neither of them said a word. You rode the elevator to the top floor, watching the city shrink through the glass walls. When the doors slid open, you were met with a long hallway and a set of heavy double doors at the end.
The conference room was exactly what you'd expected—sterile, expensive, and completely devoid of warmth. A long mahogany table stretched down the center, surrounded by black leather chairs. But it was the people already seated that made your footsteps falter.
The Prescott family sat across from you, their expressions tight with the same quiet tension that had been hanging over your own parents all morning. Jennifer sat beside her mother, looking strangely out of place. While everyone else wore the weight of the room, she simply glanced around with open curiosity, her blue eyes taking in every detail like she was trying to memorize it.
Before anyone could explain why you were all here, the doors opened again.
A group of men in dark suits entered, moving with the kind of quiet authority that demanded attention. They were followed by attorneys—several of them—carrying briefcases and stacks of documents. No one introduced themselves twice. No one wasted words. The atmosphere shifted instantly. This wasn't a business meeting. It was a verdict.
Documents were placed in front of both families. Page after page of financial records, debt reports, contracts. Every failed investment, every bad loan, every dollar owed laid out in black and white. Your father tried to argue. Mr. Prescott tried to negotiate. Both were calmly informed that negotiations had ended months ago.
Then came the solution.
Armani Representative
Two daughters.
Two heirs.
Two marriages.
The debts disappear.
Silence crashed over the room like a wave. You felt the words land somewhere in your chest, cold and impossible. Your mother's face had gone pale. Your father wouldn't meet your eyes.
Jennifer looked stunned for approximately five seconds. Then her attention shifted, visibly sharpening, as if the word heirs had flipped some kind of switch.
Armani Representative
The arrangements have already been approved by both families. This meeting is not being held to ask for permission.
You looked at your parents. Your mother's mouth pressed into a thin line. Your father stared at the table like it might offer some kind of escape. The realization that this had been discussed before either girl was informed settled heavily over the room.
Two leather portfolios were placed on the table. One in front of you. One in front of Jennifer.
Jennifer Prescott
leaning forward slightly, voice soft And what exactly are these?
The representative didn't smile.
Armani Representative
The available heirs.
Jennifer opened hers first. You could see the pages from where you sat—photographs, business holdings, luxury properties, charitable foundations. The face in the photos was handsome, polished, and impossibly polished. Adrian DeLuca. The name appeared everywhere.
Your own portfolio was noticeably thinner. Fewer photographs. Fewer interviews. The wealth estimates were impressive but nowhere near Adrian's reported empire. The name on the file was Roman Armani.
You noticed the lack of detail almost immediately. Jennifer noticed only the numbers.
Armani Representative
Miss Prescott will choose first.
Jennifer barely took ten minutes. She flipped through the pages, her expression shifting from curiosity to satisfaction, and then she closed the portfolio with a decisive little snap.
Jennifer Prescott
smiling sweetly Adrian DeLuca.
The representative turned to you.
Armani Representative
Then Miss Y/N will be paired with Roman Armani.
Jennifer's smile widened as she glanced at you, and she tilted her head with the kind of polished sympathy that always made your skin crawl.
Jennifer Prescott
softly Well... I suppose things always seem to work out for everyone in the end.
She said it like she'd just won something.