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Fecha de publicación:
2026-01-17 08:49:46
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The Mafia's Substitute Bride 217
There’s always a line, a very thin one, between selfish ambition and outright cruelty — sometimes it’s easy to pretend you can’t see it until you’ve already stepped over, but in Antonio’s case, he had no such excuse. He knew. There wasn’t a world where he didn’t know. And if he had any doubts left, they were shredded somewhere along the way, torn up with every step he took past it.Why? Why had he let it come this far? Why hadn’t he stopped it when he still could?~Alecia’s phone buzzed where it sat, facedown on the kitchen counter, the screen lighting up with an unknown number. She hadn’t even touched it yet, but something deep in her stomach had already twisted with that low, crawling awareness that settled in long before your brain caught up to explain why. Like her body had recognized something her mind was still slow to reach for.She picked up the phone, thumb sliding across the screen without thinking kr greeting. “Alecia.”Her father’s voice called coldly with a familiar chi
The Mafia's Substitute Bride 216
The DeLuca estate felt heavier than usual that morning. Not in any literal sense, of course, but in a suffocating way a house did when everyone inside it already knew to keep their heads down. Conversations barely happened, the footsteps sounded softer than usual. Nobody stayed where they didn’t absolutely need to be. They’d all learned the rhythm of Antonio’s silences over the years. Especially on days like this. Days when he didn’t want noise clouding his mind.He sat in the lounge with a drink in hand, though anyone paying attention could see it hadn’t been touched. He wasn’t drinking. He was staring through the glass doors like he could already see something coming for him from a distance. Maybe he could. Or maybe he just liked to pretend he could. The whiskey sat sweating in his glass, the ice melting slow as time itself.His phone buzzed once on the table beside him. A glance told him all he needed to know — the gates had confirmed Bianca’s arrival.When the door opened, Bianca
The Mafia's Substitute Bride 215
The rooftop was polished steel and silent glass. A view of the city wrapped around the private lounge, floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting the skyline like it was a set piece. Alecia didn’t bother looking at it. She sat across from two producers and a junior writer, all three of them dressed like they were trying to look like they weren’t trying too hard.Her coffee sat untouched.“So,” the woman said, folding her hands neatly, “we’re thrilled to have you involved. You’re magnetic onscreen, but even more magnetic as a character. What you’ve survived, what you’ve gone through, it’s...eye opening. People want this story and honestly there's no better person to tell it than you.”Alecia leaned back in her chair. “You don’t want it from me. You want it with my name on it.”The junior writer laughed nervously. “That’s fair.”The man across from her—older, maybe late forties, a quiet predator with too-white teeth—smiled slowly. “We want something layered. Not black and white. A story about
The Mafia's Substitute Bride 214
Valentina received an email at 6:08 AM. Olive handed her the tablet with two fingers, brows raised. “This was flagged by media monitoring.”Val didn’t touch it yet. She finished her espresso, perfectly calm. She was in Lucas’ study, bare-faced, wearing one of his shirts, feet tucked under her on the armchair like she had all the time in the world.“What is it?” she asked.Olive shrugged. “Docuseries pitch. Your name’s in it.”Val didn’t raise a brow, didn’t blink. She just reached out, tapped the screen, and started scrolling.It was an industry pitch deck — clean fonts, grey-blue branding, overly ambitious tone. Streaming platform attached. Documented “female downfall and social media redemption,” centered around Alecia DeLuca’s public breakdown. But by page twelve, the framing shifted.They weren’t just telling Alecia’s story. They were rewriting Valentina’s.Page fourteen labeled her “The Ice Twin.” Page fifteen described her as “emotionally unavailable, raised to be desirable, yet
The Mafia's Substitute Bride 213
The morning light filtered through her curtains mercilessly. Alecia DeLuca sat at her vanity, swirling water in a glass to wet her brush. Her robe was heavy white terrycloth, crisp but worn at the collar. She hadn’t slept. Her makeup bag was open, but she stared at it instead. Kennedy was on call in the bathroom, adjusting the mic wires to the collar of a plain black blouse.“This isn’t you begging,” Alecia said, more to herself. “It’s me taking over.”Kennedy stepped forward, her voice steady. “Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to—”Alecia held up her hand before Kennedy could finish. “You think I’ll survive if I stay silent?”Kennedy shook her head. “No. I think—”“I don’t need quiet sympathy, Kennedy. I need to speak.” Her voice wavered, but her eyes didn’t. They were sharp. Full. Focused.Kennedy nodded, handing her the glass of water. “Just don’t say anything you’ll regret.”She pressed the glass to her lips. “You forget—I don’t regret much.”---She arrived at the
The Mafia's Substitute Bride 212
Unfortunately it all started with a single post.It was anonymous, however low quality, and without a watermark. Just a thirty-eight-second video taken from the dim corner of a private industry bar—smoky, exclusive, it was the kind of place where all staffs and customers probably were made to sign NDAs for the menu would be given.At the center of the video was Marco DeLuca, surrounded by a circle of half-drunk agents, actors, and producers. They were laughing so loudly. In the background, champagne bottles popped while someone shouted that they'd just secured a major deal—an international show, with streaming rights sold across multiple countries.Marco raised his glass to toast.“A toast,” One of them called out, cheering.He chuckled and replied, “A toast moving on and succeeding.”They all clinked their glasses and downed the liquid in it in few gulps.“Stupid bitch fakes a breakdown and the world throws her a pity party, and I’m the bad guy? Fuck that. She wanted fame, well now s
The Mafia's Substitute Bride 9
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. “It didn’t go as planned,” I said, my voice quieter than I wanted. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, but he didn’t say anything, just waited for me to continue. I tried to keep my tone even as I explained what happened at the restaurant. I left out the part
Última actualización : 2026-03-17The Mafia's Substitute Bride 14
A few seconds later, a more mature woman hurriedly came out from the back of the store. She moved with a sense of urgency and a somewhat kind grace, her well-tailored suit and composed demeanor immediately giving off an air of authority. The younger attendant from earlier followed closely behind he
Última actualización : 2026-03-17The Mafia's Substitute Bride 10
I closed the folder gently, trying to still my hands, and excused myself from the dining table. My father didn’t look up or acknowledge me as I left the room. His indifference stung, but I pushed it aside. I couldn’t deal with everything right now.In my room, I dropped the folder onto my desk, not
Última actualización : 2026-03-17The Mafia's Substitute Bride 11
I arrived at Caruso Corp., pulling up to the gates with a mix of nerves and determination. The building was even more intimidating in person than I imagined, its towering glass windows reflecting the morning sun like a fortress. As I approached the security booth, I rolled down my window and inform
Última actualización : 2026-03-17
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