My Fiancé Faked His Death, So I Married The Don

Three days before our wedding, my fiancé, Raphael Russo, was killed in a gang shootout.

They didn't even find a body.

As I was drowning in grief, comments suddenly flashed before my eyes:

【Wake up, girl! the coffin's empty! He faked his death! The scumbag ran off to be with that scheming bitch chloe, the one pretending to be sick!】

【While you're crying your eyes out at the funeral, Raphael is fucking Chloe’s brains out in a hotel bed.】

【When he comes back, he'll claim he has amnesia. You won't know a thing and you'll forgive him. You poor thing…】

A month later, news of my marriage to Mafia Don Marcello Falcone spread through New York.

Raphael’s right-hand man cornered me, furious. “How could you betray the Boss?”

I tightened my grip on Marcello’s arm and smiled. “A girl can’t mourn forever, can she? I’m sure Raphael, in spirit, would be happy for me.”

“Raphael’s dead.”

The news made my head spin.

My fiancé, Raphael Russo, the rising star of New York’s underworld, was killed in a brutal shootout three days before our wedding. The story was they couldn’t even find enough of him to piece together.

As his fiancée, I stood at the front of the graveside, clutching his engagement ring so tight my knuckles turned white.

“Cecilia, my condolences.” Raphael’s second-in-command, Leo, walked over and handed me a black umbrella. His face wore the perfect mask of grief. “You were the one the Don loved most. You have to live on for him.”

I opened my mouth to offer some empty platitude, but a line of blood-red text exploded in front of my eyes.

It wasn't a hallucination. The words floated above Leo’s head like a neon sign.

【Give me a break. This guy’s a terrible actor. Raphael is in Colombia right now, sunbathing with his side piece.】

I blinked hard. The text was still there, and now it was scrolling.

【Wake up, girl! The coffin's empty! He faked his death! The scumbag ran off to be with that scheming bitch chloe, the one pretending to be sick!】

My heart hammered against my ribs. A chill shot up my spine.

What was this insane live commentary? But the crazier question was—what if it was true?

I took a deep breath, pushed Leo’s hand away, and stumbled toward the expensive mahogany coffin.

“Ms. Cecilia! You can’t—” Leo and another man, Nico, rushed to stop me.

“Let me see him one last time!” I shoved, using all my strength to lift a corner of the lid.

There was no smell of blood.

Inside were just a few heavy rocks and an empty suit.

I froze.

It was true. The comments were true.

Leo slammed the lid shut with a loud thud and held it down, beads of sweat on his forehead. “Cecilia! The body… it’s too gruesome. You’ll have nightmares! We’re doing this for your own good!”

For my own good?

I lowered my head, letting my long hair hide