Bound By Vows: My Sleeping Mafia Husband

ra

mber message read. "Go to the bridal sui

ce hummed, a low thrum agai

ress, minutes away from marrying Enzo Falcone,

like a sleeping beast, its stone facade glowing under the

gers w

hat felt less like a celebration and more like a beautifully cra

d saved me for this. A debt marker. A disposable bride.

ach tig

t wasn't the flutter of bridal nerves. It was t

prisingly steady. "I need to g

g mine in the rearview mirror, bet

nicured lawn, champagne flutes in hand. Their eyes followed me, a mixture of envy and pity. The Pa

ored

, the sound echoing in the grand hallway. Each step was a dr

t corridor, lined with portraits of stern-faced F

was sligh

ut. A suppressed giggle, sickl

. My hal

man's lo

cone. My

my body a separate entity from the screaming chaos in my head. My

through t

sing Jennifer back onto the vast, silk-draped bed. My wedding bed. Her dress was hiked up to her thighs

d back s

t the wall wit

stopped. A frantic

called out, his vo

scream. The part of me that might have done

d walked into the ad

. And there, laid out on a velvet bust, was my veil. A cascade of silk tulle,

lver Zippo lighter. Forgotten. A

bric was cold, heavy with th

cked up t

t a happy smile. It was cold, sha

e door where Enzo and Jennifer were now whisperi

arty was in full swing. A sea of e

rough the crowd as they saw th

h the diamonds. It was a beautiful, expensive

icked the

ic

ngue in the afternoon light. I touche

ght in

ng the symbol of my purity into a column of blac

s my face, illuminating th

ms erupted from

a smoke detector began to s

tumbled out onto the balcony, their faces pale with

o's panic

rop from my hand. It fell through the air like a fallen angel, a bird of f

y fiancé, the man who

two words, cle

ia

I turned my back on the wreckage of my wedding and melted into the shadows of the corrido