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.

Since he chose someone else to be his wife, I will become his Madre.

On the eve of our wedding, my fiancé, the heir to the Mafia, told me to give my title to another woman and become his mistress. So I left my wedding gown on the floor and chose to marry the Don. If I couldn't be his wife, I would become his Madre.

"Miss, Mr. Lorenzo is here," our maid, Maria, announced as she pushed the door open, her voice trembling with excitement. A personal visit from the heir was an honor.

Before I could turn, Lorenzo strode into the room, his gaze landing on me with its usual warmth. "Alessia, you should let the designer handle the alterations. Why do it yourself? You'll prick your fingers."

I stood before the full-length mirror, dressed in a custom-made, pure-white wedding gown. He wasn't supposed to be here.

Two weeks ago, Chiara had splashed her birthday party all over Instagram. It was to be held on her family’s private yacht, and nearly every socialite in Italy was invited. Lorenzo had promised her he would be there. So why was he here now?

I met his gaze in the mirror. His eyes flickered away before he cleared his throat. "I need to discuss something with you."

He hesitated, then finally met my eyes again. "Chiara refuses to be a mistress. I’ve thought it over… I have to give her the title of wife."

My hands, which had been adjusting the delicate lace on the skirt, froze.

"Alessia, it’s just