The Mafia Heir

Back in El Tricolor, there's a rule: If I don't get married by thirty, I have to go back and marry the woman my father arranged for me. When my girlfriend, Stella Ross, heard this, her face filled with complete disdain. "Arranged marriage? Is your home in some remote tribe? Or are you stuck in the Middle Ages? Alan, quit with these pathetic excuses to force a marriage!" She let out a mocking laugh and pulled out a ring. "I was actually planning to accept your proposal and even bought us a pair of rings. But since you're so desperate, I think we both need some space to cool off." With that, she tossed the ring straight to her assistant, Ethan Parker. The marriage I had waited years for was casually thrown to someone else, just like that ring. Ethan caught it and shot me a triumphant smirk. As I stood there, frozen, Stella brushed right past me and walked out of the office, sneering. The next second, Ethan feigned embarrassment and held the ring out to me, but I didn't glance his way. "Keep it. I know that's your size anyway," I said. His smile froze on his face. I had zero interest in continuing their little game. Before stepping out of the office, I dropped a single line: "Tell your boss we're broken up." What Stella didn't know was that the father forcing me into marriage was the don of the El Tricolor mafia, and I was his sole heir. And the woman arranged for me was the only daughter of the most powerful mafia don in North Usonia.