All Chapters of The Mafia's Substitute Bride: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Being married to Lucas Caruso hadn’t changed me, at least not in the ways people probably imagined. Sure, I had a new last name and lived in a fancy estate, but the person I was before—Valentina De Luca—was still very much here. This marriage, if you could even call it that, was built on anything but love. It wasn’t chocolate, roses, or any of that romantic nonsense people fantasize about. No, this was a business deal with a fancy dress and a diamond ring.And trust me, it wasn’t going to magically transform into something else. There was no way we’d go from barely tolerating each other to suddenly falling into each other's arms like one of those ridiculous romance movies. It just wasn’t happening.The servers moved in quickly, clearing the plates as soon as Lucas and the men stepped outside to their cars. We followed, naturally. I hugged Elizabeth, the only person in this entire group I could remotely stand, and then watched as they all drove away. Once the last car disappeared throu

I woke up to a loud thud from downstairs, heart racing, my body jolting upright in bed. For a moment, I couldn’t shake off the nightmare I was having—being chased by a mob of desperate women wielding pitchforks and torches. Their faces twisted in rage, like I’d stolen something precious from them. It was the kind of dream that leaves you rattled long after you wake up, especially when you’re married to people's enemy and got a threatening text just a few hours ago.I rubbed my eyes and checked the time on my phone. 11 PM.Wait… why did I sleep that long? And why do I keep waking up to these frightening sounds? The house was too quiet, too dark, and that noise downstairs felt too real.I sat up and glanced around, feeling my nerves get the best of me. My eyes landed on the bottle of wine I left on my nightstand the night before. It wasn’t exactly a weapon, but it was better than nothing. I grabbed it in one hand and my phone in the other, turning on the flashlight. I wasn’t about to tu

Dr. Daniel Whitman and I go way back—five years back, to be exact. He’s a few years older than me, but he’s one of those rare people who’s always seemed to have it together. The kind of person you can call when everything feels like it’s falling apart. Over the years, he’s saved me from a whole lot more than just a medical emergency or two.There was that time when my mom first got sick. I’d spent hours in different doctors’ offices, getting referral after referral, and I was at my wits’ end. He made one call to a specialist he knew, and suddenly things were going smoothly. Another time, when my car broke down late at night on some godforsaken stretch of highway and my father refused to send help, he showed up with tools and a thermos of coffee, his easy grin somehow making the whole situation less terrifying. No questions asked, no judgment. He’s just always... been there. Tonight, though, I felt the strain on him. Showing up here, doing what he just did, goes beyond anything I’ve a

"you know what? Forget it. I don't even want to know" I sighed, rubbed my temple and walked away to the nearest chair."Yeah, he's going to tell you about himself when he should. I shouldn't do the talking for him" she let out a tight-lipped smile and sat on the side of the bed looking at Lucas.Alphonse came back from his call, slipping his phone into his pocket as he walked up to us. He leaned down and kissed Elizabeth’s cheek. Then he looked at me.“We’ll send help, and I’ll have a doctor come by once we’re home. You shouldn’t worry too much,” he said sounding calm “Lucas is a fighter, and he’s stubborn. He wouldn’t let himself die until he’s done whatever it is he’s planning.” A light chuckle escaped him, like he could already picture Lucas defying the odds purely out of willpower.He reached out and tapped my cheek softly. Here was someone who knew Lucas better than I ever could, someone who believed he’d pull through. As if my mother being bedridden wasn't enough, the universe j

The bathroom door opened, and he stepped out, tugging a white shirt over his shoulders, his hands moving in that casual, almost lazy way that somehow managed to look effortlessly put-together. I cleared my throat, quickly standing up and slipping off the bed, trying not to stare at the way the shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, or the bandages peeking out from underneath. For someone recovering from gunshot wounds, he didn’t look the least bit fragile. In fact, in white, he looked—well, damn, he looked good.“You’re awake,” I said, trying to sound casual, though I felt strangely flustered. “How are you feeling?”He nodded, catching my gaze briefly before he turned to face the mirror. His fingers went up to adjust his collar with a familiarity that made it clear he wasn’t about to let a few stitches keep him down. Just as he seemed ready to walk out of the room, he glanced back at me. “Did you call anyone?”I cleared my throat again, my eyes dropping to the floor. “Uh… yeah, I