His Brother's Obsession, Her Mafia Throne

Elena stood flawless in her bridal gown. Five years of molding herself for Dante Moretti and a powerful mafia treaty culminated now. This dress was her only solace.

Then her phone buzzed. A text from Dante: "Wedding canceled." Two cold words, no explanation. Her world shattered, heart a sledgehammer blow.

Dante answered her call from a hospital, commanding her to leave, no apology. Her father and 500 mafia guests outside whispered of "humiliation." Marco then cleared Dante's things, revealing he was moving his long-comatose 'white swan,' Sofia, into their intended home. Her father's ultimatum: win Dante back in thirty days, or be married to a sadistic Russian boss.

Discarded, betrayed, and trapped, Elena felt absolute humiliation. She despised five years wasted, facing a fate worse than death. But as tears blurred her vision, a dangerous thought ignited: Dante wasn't the only Moretti. She wouldn't cry or beg. Instead, she'd choose the most terrifying Moretti of all, and make Dante pay for his arrogance.

Chapter 1

Elena Vitiello POV:

I took a deep breath, or at least tried to. The boning of my custom corset dug into my ribs, restricting the air in my lungs. I stood perfectly still in the bridal suite of St. Patrick's Cathedral, staring at the woman in the mirror. She looked flawless. After five years of swallowing my pride, of molding myself into the perfect, invisible shadow Dante Moretti required, I was finally getting my reward. The psychological comfort of seeing myself in this white gown was the only thing keeping my hands steady.

I reached up, my fingertips lightly brushing the handmade lace of my veil. A slight tremor ran through my fingers. I could hardly believe it. In less than an hour, I would officially carry the Moretti name. The peace treaty between the New York Outfit and the Vitiello family would be sealed in blood and vows.

A harsh vibration shattered the quiet of the room.

I pulled my hand back from the veil as if I had been burned. My phone sat on the vanity, buzzing aggressively against the polished wood. The screen lit up with a blinding glare. Dante's name flashed across the display.

I leaned over and picked it up. A text message. I swiped the screen open, a soft smile already forming on my lips, expecting a brief command or a check-in.

The smile froze. My heart felt like it had been struck by a sledgehammer.

The message read: Wedding canceled

There was no punctuation. No explanation. Just two words delivered with the cold, minimalist authority Dante used when ordering an execution. My brain went completely blank. The air in the room suddenly felt thick, unbreathable.

I blinked hard, trying to clear the sudden blurriness from my vision. My fingers gripped the edges of the phone so tightly my knuckles turned stark white.

I tapped his number and put the phone to my ear. The mechanical ringing echoed in the silent room, amplifying the rising panic in my chest.