—He is just a poor man. If you follow him, don’t come back!

You asked your daughter to choose between money and love. But you forgot one thing. I’m not the poor man you mocked. I’m not your servant. I am Adriano Duca, the man you all…

They laughed at me—her family, their friends, the billionaires sipping wine in gold-plated glasses. To them, I was nothing but a driver, a man in a cheap suit who should have been parking their cars, not standing beside their daughter. They slapped me, mocked me, and called me worthless.

I let them, because I wasn’t there to prove myself to them. I was there to test her. To see if Amara would choose me—not the fortune, not the $950 million her family dangled like a crown.

My name is Adriano Duca. To the world that lives in shadows, I am king—a man worth billions, feared in cities most people only whisper about. But tonight, in the eyes of Amara’s family, I was just a driver, her shame.

We pulled up to her family’s estate in an old car with squeaking brakes. Amara sat beside me, her hand brushing mine, her voice soft but resolute. —Ignore whatever they say tonight. You have me. That’s enough.

The second I walked inside with her, the air changed. Whispers, snickers, the scrape of judgment in every smile. The chandelier above glistened like a cruel spotlight.

Her father, Chief Damiano, a man who wore power like armor, spoke first.

—So this is him. The driver? The word rolled off his tongue like poison.

Her mother leaned forward, venom disguised as politeness.

—Amara, darling, you deserve a man who can give you the world, not someone who only drives through it.

I stayed silent. Silence is power.

Amara lifted her chin, fire sparking in her eyes.

—You don’t get to decide who I love.

Her father slammed his hand on the table and rose. His shadow fell over me.

—Do you know what you are, boy? You’re nothing. A man with no fortune, no name, no worth.

Then his hand struck me. A slap that cracked across my face and echoed in the silence. I straightened slowly, wiping the blood at the corner of my lip. I didn’t move, didn’t flinch. I just looked at him once—a quiet look.

The table erupted in mocking laughter.

Amara rose to her feet, voice trembling, but strong.

—Enough. He’s with me, and no matter what you say, he is the man I love.

Her father’s lips curled.

—Then let’s see how strong that love is, daughter. Because in this house, loyalty has a price.

I endured the whispers that followed me into the engagement party. The ballroom shimmered with gold and silk. The crowd—a sea of expensive suits and designer gowns—all turned when we entered.

Chief Damiano stood at the center of the room, raising his glass.

—This man, this driver, believes he is worthy of standing beside my daughter. Tell me, friends, does a suit that cheap deserve to stand under chandeliers worth more than his life?

A roar of mocking laughter followed. I felt Amara’s grip on my hand tighten.

Her father stepped closer to her, his voice low, a promise of war.

—You can end this foolishness tonight. Choose wisely, daughter. Walk away now, and your inheritance—$950 million—remains yours. But if you stay with him, you lose it all.

The entire room waited, vultures hungry for her humiliation.

At the altar, as the music softened, her father delivered his final ultimatum.

—Make your choice. Walk away from this man, and you inherit everything. Power, position, respect, all of it. But if you take his hand… you lose it all.

I gave her nothing but silence, only the steady grip of a man who would never beg.

Amara looked at me, searched my face, and then she spoke. Her voice shook at first, but it cut through the silence.

—I’d rather live poor with him than rich with liars.

The room erupted—gasps, outrage, voices clashing in disbelief. Her father’s roar silenced them.

—You, you foolish girl! You would throw away everything for this… this servant!

Before he could finish, the sound of heavy engines roared outside. Black SUVs screeched to a halt. Men in tailored suits, weapons concealed but obvious, stormed the hall. Guests stumbled back.

The men in black looked past the crowd, past Amara, past her family, straight to me. And in one voice, the word that shattered their arrogance echoed through the hall:

—Boss!

The silence was suffocating. Dozens of heads turned toward me, confusion painted with dawning horror.

I finally lifted my head. The humble driver mask fell away. I shrugged off my cheap jacket, calm, deliberate. Underneath, the faint glint of a custom holster peaked out.

I looked directly at her father—the man who had slapped me. Now his skin was pale, his mouth struggling for words.

—You asked your daughter to choose between money and love, I said at last, my voice low but carrying.

—But you forgot one thing. I’m not the poor man you mocked. I’m not your servant. I’m not beneath you.

I let the silence stretch, savoring the collapse of their arrogance.

—I am Adriano Duca, the man you all fear, but never name aloud.

The name fell like a guillotine. The Duca Empire. Billions in power. Bloodlines in every shadowed corner of the city.

Amara’s father stumbled back.

—D-Duca…

—You slapped me, I reminded him softly.

—You mocked me, spat on me, humiliated me before your kin.

Slowly, I reached for Amara’s hand and lifted it for the hall to see. —But she chose me when she believed I had nothing. She chose love over your fortune.

I straightened, my voice turning to steel.

—Understand this, all of you. You mock me as a servant, but I am the king you’ll never command. Your $950 million is dust compared to my empire. And the only reason you still draw breath tonight… My eyes flicked to Amara… is because of her.

Amara’s hand squeezed mine, her whisper barely audible.

—I chose you before I knew. I’d choose you again.

For the first time, I allowed the mask to crack, looking at her with a reverence that softened the steel in my chest.

I turned back to the crowd, my voice final, absolute.

—Mock me again, and your fortune won’t buy your safety.

The hall bowed to silence, cowed by fear.

With deliberate calm, I guided Amara forward. My men parted instantly, surrounding us like an honor guard. We walked the aisle again—not as a couple mocked by arrogance, but as king and queen, untouchable, untamed.

At the altar, I pulled her close, whispering only for her.

—You are mine, Amara. Not because of my empire, but because you dared to love me without it.

Her lips curved in a trembling smile before she kissed me.

We walked out of that hall together, power in every step. And behind us, her family’s $950 million lay useless, scraps compared to the empire she had just inherited by choosing me.