He Chose Another, Now He Calls Me Madre
I was chosen to be the fiancée of Lorenzo, the Mafia’s heir.
But at a family gala, Lorenzo was openly pursued by Chiara, the daughter of an arms dealer.
Chiara wasn’t like the other rule-abiding debutantes. She tore through the streets in a modified sports car, used a military-grade combat knife to cut her cigars, and drank the harshest whiskey neat. There was an untamed wildness about her, a fire Lorenzo couldn't look away from.
He complained to the family elders, "How can a woman like that possibly be our Madre and run this entire family?"
His words dripped with disdain for her recklessness, yet his eyes were glued to her, tracking her every move as she raised her glass.
Then, on Lorenzo’s birthday, he announced his intention to make Chiara his mistress.
Chiara refused. "The women of my family are wives, never mistresses. And my husband's heart must belong only to me."
Lorenzo came to me, his voice hesitant. "Alessia, it's just a title. I need you to give it to Chiara. Please? She doesn't understand our family's traditions, and she's making a scene about marrying me. We just need to pacify her for now. Even if she marries me, you will still be the one to manage the family's affairs."
As I stood trying on my wedding gown, a sharp crystal bead on the bodice pierced my finger. A single drop of blood bloomed against the pure white satin.
The dress was ruined, but the wedding would go on.
If I couldn't be the wife of the heir, I would become the woman of the Don.