Married to the Mafia Heir Then His Ex Tried to Blow Up Our WeddingChapter 1

I was about to be married, yet the man I'd been entangled with for eight years knew nothing of it.

Lately, he'd been occupied with his new personal aide—a woman named Celina Vitale who had appeared at his side like a shadow seeking light.

They'd taken to each other instantly, their conversations flowing with an ease that felt rehearsed. To celebrate her birthday, he'd commissioned a ten-tiered cream cake from the most exclusive bakery in the city, the kind of extravagance he reserved for impressing associates and marking territory.

At the party held in the back rooms of his social club, they'd smeared frosting across each other's faces like children, laughing while cream splattered across the mahogany bar and leather seats. They'd forgotten—or perhaps never cared to remember—that I was severely allergic to dairy.

When my throat began to close and my vision blurred at the edges, I was rushed to the hospital in one of the Family's black sedans, the driver running every red light in the district.

I woke in a sterile white room with an IV in my arm and a clarity I hadn't possessed in years.

I agreed to the alliance marriage my family had arranged.

My mother wasted no time.

I'd barely returned from the hospital, my keycard still warm in my palm as I stood before the iron gate of the Haskins compound, when my phone buzzed with dozens of messages—wedding arrangements, venue photographs, guest protocols, all laid out with military precision.

I scrolled through the files, my thumb moving mechanically until I reached her final message.

【I always knew you and Luca wouldn't last. If he truly intended to make you his wife, why drag it out for eight years? It's not too late to wake up. I've prepared everything for the ceremony.】

【The wedding is in three days. Pack your things slowly. No need to rush.】

What had been invisible to me had apparently been obvious to everyone else. I'd been drowning in Luca Haskins's empty promises, mistaking his proximity for commitment, his tolerance for affection.

I exhaled slowly, the night air cool against my face, and sent her a voice message.

"Mama, choose whichever arrangement you think is best. I trust your judgment. Keep the ceremony simple."

I didn't notice Luca approaching from behind until his voice cut through the silence.