The Don Chose the Wrong Bride

~ Jane’s POV

“Please, stop…” I whispered, trying to free my arm from my brother’s grip. I looked around, hoping for someone, anyone, to intervene, and praying I’d maybe walk away with no broken bones at least.

“If you weren’t as stupid as you are, I would’ve thought of stopping.” Luca gritted his teeth, his hand tightening around my arm. I winced, noticing a purple-ish mark form around the edges of his grip. Tears rolled down my face as I watched my family gather around us, not one person standing up for me.

“Please, Luca, it was just for water…please…I didn’t spill it on purpose, I’m sorry.” I pleaded with my eyes, glancing at my sisters, my oldest brother, and even my father, but all they shared was a blank stare.

“Just water? What if it were wine, Janitor!?” I shivered at the nickname he spoke out loud. This is what they called me at home, but they never, for once, said it in public. “Or worse, what if it was hot tea?! I could’ve been burned, stupid bitch.” Luca was furious; I could see it in his eyes. This was the same look he had when he got angry and left me with multiple fractures.

I whimpered, again and again, my other hand curled over his arm, “Please, Luca, I’m begging you, please stop. I’m sorry.”

Luca’s eyes glinted as he pulled my arm up, forcing me to stand straight, and I did, wishing he’d let go if I just did what he asked. He raised his other hand, and I knew this was it, this was when he’d fracture my facial joints…again.

I closed my eyes, ready for the impact that never came. My body stiffened, still bracing for the sting on my face, and when it didn’t arrive for another good minutes, I slowly opened my eyes. Confused and relieved at the same time, I saw them, my family, the Millers, turn and look at a guy standing in front of us.

I tilted my head to get a better look at him, and my breath hitched. He was standing in an all-black suit, his hands in his pockets, and watching the scene with a bored expression. With the way he scanned each member of my family, I knew who he was: Blake Knight.

Blake Knight was the man every single person in the underworld feared. He was only 12 when he took over his father’s empire after his death, and since then, not one person had dared to cross his path. Rumors had it that he was the one who murdered his own father. Knowing the kind of person he was, I knew he didn’t come here to save; I knew he wasn’t here to play the part of a knight, even though that’s what his name stands for.

“My apologies, Mr. Knight. We were just disciplining a young family member. We’ll be out of your hair soon.” My father stood in front of us all, his tall back covering me, but he was no match for Blake Knight, and he knew that as well.

Blake turned his attention to my father, scanning him from head to toe. I squirmed in my place, feeling Luca’s grip loosen a bit, giving me the relief I needed, but pain shot up as well.

“Do you know where you are standing, Mr. Dominic Miller?”

My eyes widened at Blake’s inquiry. In our world, no one called a person with power by their full name, specifically not an elder, and there he was, addressing him as if he was nothing. Finally, Luca let go of me, his attention entirely on Blake, glaring at him, but he couldn’t do anything even if he wanted to.

My father took a deep breath and bowed his head a little, “On your property, Mr. Knight.”

“Precisely.” With a small pause, Blake Knight continued, his voice getting louder. “I hope it doesn’t happen again.” My father nodded in response and stood straight.

Hair on the back of my neck stood up when his eyes landed on me for merely a second before he turned and walked away with such ease I could not even muster when I’m resting. Watching him leave confirmed one thing…I’d be having a long night of beating.

The rest of the gathering went smoothly. No one came close to me, not once, as long as we were on Blake Knight’s property.

Then came the nightmare. I was pushed out of the car as soon as we reached the mansion. With the courtesy of my sister, Alina, she guided me to my room, not dragged. That’s one thing I was grateful for. My sisters, Alina and Nora, were cowards; they didn’t dare speak up for me, but they also never laid a finger on me. I knew what was coming, and I also knew what worked well in my interest…not speaking.

As soon as we stepped into my room, a sting cut through my cheek, and I looked up with blurry eyes. My father was standing in front of me, rage clear in his eyes as he made tight fists by his side, his blood clearly boiling. “You’re an embarrassment. I should’ve let you die!” He rushed out of my room, leaving me at the mercy of my siblings, who never showed any.

When they were done, I was left with multiple beatings on my back, my legs, my arms, my face, my stomach, and every other place they could land their hand or leg on. I was lying on the floor, blood staining the luxury plush mink carpet as I waited for death to take over.

But then…something clicked in my head. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t who I was supposed to be. I couldn’t wish for death.

Newly found devotion and courage found their way into my heart, and I stood up, taking painkillers and getting out my bag. I started gathering everything essential I wanted and stuffed it in my bag, only to stop dead in my tracks when I heard a voice echo from behind me.

“What are you doing?”