Marry Mafia King or My Fifth Fiancés Dies

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my cold fingers gripping the skirt of the white wedding gown that trailed to the floor. The lace detailing on the bodice shimmered under the lamplight, making me look like a woman truly about to walk into her happy ending.

If only my life were as simple as the reflection in that mirror.

Four engagement rings had once graced my finger. Four times, everything had ended before it could turn into a sacred vow. This time was different. It had to be different.

I took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.

“This is the last one,” I murmured to my own reflection. “I'm getting married today.”

Outside the preparation room, footsteps sounded faintly. The church had been arranged for us. An intimate wedding in Bali. No guests and no crowd, just the two of us exchanging vows before God.

My hands clenched at my sides.

I didn't know why my heart kept pounding so fast, even knowing it would only be the two of us in there.

Someone knocked on the door.

“It's time.”

I nodded slowly before stepping out. The hallway leading to the church's main entrance felt longer than usual. Every step of my heels echoed back at me, making my chest tighten further.

Ahead of me, the church doors were still shut tight.

I gripped my bouquet tighter. Once those doors opened, I would see Owen standing at the end of the aisle, smiling at me.

That was how it was supposed to be.

The great wooden doors slowly swung open.

I lifted my head. But the smile that had been about to form on my lips froze instantly.

The man standing at the end of the aisle wasn't Owen.

My body stopped reflexively.

Another man walked toward me. His face was blank, his gaze sharp, his stride steady, as if everything was already going according to plan.

“Keep walking to the altar,” he said without preamble. “Mr. Blackridge is waiting. Don't make him lose his patience.”

My brow furrowed.

“Who is Mr. Blackridge?” I asked, confused. “Why is he at my wedding?”

The man didn't answer.

Instead, his hand clamped around my arm with force.

“Hey!” I tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron. My body was forced to move with his rhythm. “Let go of me!”

I struggled with all my strength. My bouquet nearly slipped from my hands from how wildly I was thrashing. But the man didn't budge an inch. It was like being dragged by a walking wall.

Every step brought me closer to the altar.

Closer to the figure standing with his back to me.

When we arrived, the man finally released my arm. He bowed respectfully to the figure before me.

“Your bride is ready, sir.”

My chest tightened instantly.

The man turned slowly to face me.

I recognized the man in front of me. There was no way I wouldn't recognize him.

Maximilian Blackridge. The Mafia King from Italy who had recently been operating extensively in the United States.

The tall man stood upright in a perfectly tailored black suit that traced the lines of his body. His black hair was combed neatly, while his dark gaze made the air around him feel colder. There was no warm smile, no friendliness, only a mysterious aura that pressed down on anyone near him.

I swallowed hard.

“What are you doing at my wedding?” I asked, my voice trembling.

His gaze didn't shift from me for even a moment.

“Our wedding.” He corrected me.

I shook my head quickly.

“No.” My voice rose. “Today I'm marrying Owen. My fiancé is Owen.”

I took a step back.

“I just need to call him. Maybe he's—”

Before I could pull out my phone, Maximilian caught my wrist first.

I tried instinctively to pull free.

At the same moment, the man who had dragged me to the altar earlier took up a ready position beside us.

Their gazes made my breath catch.

Maximilian raised his phone. “You mean this Owen?”

I looked at the screen. My blood seemed to stop flowing.

There, Owen sat tied to a chair. His hands were bound behind his back, his eyes covered with a black cloth, his mouth sealed with tape. He kept struggling to free himself, but in vain.

“OWEN!” My voice broke.

I reached instinctively for the phone, but Maximilian pulled it back.

“What have you done to him?!” I screamed. “Let him go!”

The man's gaze remained calm.

“Marry me, or your fiancé dies.” Maximilian said the words without raising his voice. And it was precisely because they sounded so flat that a chill ran down my spine.

If anyone else had said it, I might have dismissed it as an empty threat. I could have just walked out of the church, called the police, and reported him.

But the man standing before me now was Maximilian Blackridge.

A man whose name made the highest figures of the criminal underworld bow their heads. A man the American police preferred not to cross, even as evidence of his crimes seemed to pile up without ever managing to put him behind bars.

I closed my eyes for a moment.

“Then ... if I marry you …” My voice was barely audible. “Will you let Owen go?”

“I promise.”

I stared at his face for a long moment. My hands were shaking. Tears began to blur my vision.

With a heavy breath, I finally nodded.

“I'll marry you.”

Several people quickly entered, carrying a folder of documents.

My hands still trembled as a pen was held out to me.

I skimmed the first page, but the letters seemed to dance before my eyes. In the end, I simply signed my name.

Maximilian did the same.

The document was closed.

He stepped closer until only a few inches separated us.

“You're mine,” he said quietly. “Always mine.”

I held my breath.

“We're married now.” I looked at him without blinking. “Now let Owen go. Let me see him.”

“You can only choose one.” Maximilian's jaw hardened instantly.

I froze.

“I'll release Owen safely and let him return to New York on his own.” Maximilian traced the line of my jaw with his fingers. “Or I'll release him and let you see him, but you'll find him without breath left in his body.”

I stared at him, disbelieving.

“So the rumors were true.” My lips trembled with rage. “You really don't have a heart!”

Far from being offended, Maximilian only gave a faint smile.

I bit my lower lip until it stung.

“Fine.” I took a deep breath. “Whatever it takes, as long as Owen makes it back to New York safely.”

Maximilian nodded slowly. His gaze shifted to the man in the corner of the room, who had been watching us the entire time.

“Take care of it.”

The man bowed briefly before turning and striding out of the church.

I was still staring at the door slowly closing when a large hand suddenly wrapped around my waist.

My body tensed instantly.

Maximilian pulled me until I was nearly pressed against his chest.

“I've already let him go.” His lips moved right beside my ear. “Now the only thing left to let go is your dress. We're honeymooning in here.”