About
In the world of high stakes and hidden agendas, Elena Caruso is about to make the biggest decision of her life: an arranged marriage to the enigmatic mob heir, Luca Haskins. Eight years of unspoken promises and lingering glances have left her on the brink of a choice that could free her from shadows or plunge her deeper into darkness. Just as she begins to reclaim her agency, everything shifts when Luca's ex-girlfriend makes a dramatic reappearance, threatening to unravel the delicate threads of Elena’s new life.
As wedding plans unfold, tension simmers between Elena and Luca, fueled by unvoiced feelings and the looming specter of Celina Vitale, a woman who seems to have captured Luca’s attention in ways Elena never could. Is Elena stepping onto the altar of her own making, or is she walking into a trap set by old loyalties and betrayals? With the clock ticking down to the ceremony, every moment becomes a gamble. Can she trust her instincts, or will she let the past dictate her future?
In a world where love is a battlefield and loyalty is tested, Elena must navigate the treacherous waters of family ties, hidden agendas, and the explosive secrets that threaten to blow everything apart. Will she finally claim the love she deserves, or will the past come crashing down just as she says "I do"?
Married to the Mafia Heir Then His Ex Tried to Blow Up Our WeddingChapter 1
I was about to be married, yet the man I'd been entangled with for eight years knew nothing of it.
Lately, he'd been occupied with his new personal aide—a woman named Celina Vitale who had appeared at his side like a shadow seeking light.
They'd taken to each other instantly, their conversations flowing with an ease that felt rehearsed. To celebrate her birthday, he'd commissioned a ten-tiered cream cake from the most exclusive bakery in the city, the kind of extravagance he reserved for impressing associates and marking territory.
At the party held in the back rooms of his social club, they'd smeared frosting across each other's faces like children, laughing while cream splattered across the mahogany bar and leather seats. They'd forgotten—or perhaps never cared to remember—that I was severely allergic to dairy.
When my throat began to close and my vision blurred at the edges, I was rushed to the hospital in one of the Family's black sedans, the driver running every red light in the district.
I woke in a sterile white room with an IV in my arm and a clarity I hadn't possessed in years.