The Wedding I Designed to Die For
I was with Marco, the New York Mafia heir, for seven years.
He never told his family about me.
But when I walked in on a wedding rehearsal and saw the groom embracing the bride-to-be. It was Marco!
"Her fiancé's held up in Italy. I'm just a stand-in," he told me, but his eyes never left her. "You're the best wedding planner in New York. This wedding has to be flawless."
But I saw something in his eyes I'd never seen before.
A possessiveness that bordered on resentment.
Isabella, the bride, hated every idea I had for her.
In the end, Marco told me to give her the wedding I'd spent five years designing for myself.
"Our wedding can wait. I'll give you something bigger, I promise. It's just a plan, Sophia. It's what you do. Giving it to a client should be easy, right?"
He didn't know. It wasn't just a plan. It was my dying wish.
In the end, I gave him what he wanted, quietly preparing to die.
Later, he went mad, kidnapping the world’s best doctors—risking a global manhunt—all to save me.