Discarded Mafia Bride: My Empire Rises
I woke from a five-year coma not to the faces of my family, but to my own death certificate.
It was signed by my parents and my fiancé, Dante Moretti, the most ruthless Don in our world. He had sworn on his father's grave to wait for me. Instead, he replaced me with Sienna—the very woman who put me in that hospital bed.
My own son, Luca, looked at me with cold, unfamiliar eyes.
"You're not my mother," he sneered, hiding behind the woman who wore my face.
My parents rushed to shield her, not me. "You must understand the bigger picture," my father said. "We did what was necessary for the Famiglia."
But the final betrayal came after Sienna pushed me off a bridge and needed a blood transfusion. My own parents signed the consent form to use my blood, and my fiancé gave the order. "Save her," he snarled.
The nurse told me they were ordered to "discard the blood bag after use." As if I were trash.
I walked out of that hospital, a ghost in my own life. I took the new identity my old professor offered and vanished. This time, I wouldn't be Elara Bianchi, the tragic fiancée. I would build an empire of my own.
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Chapter 4
Elara POV:
My parents' frantic pleas echoed in the suddenly quiet ballroom. "Dante, she's fragile! You have to go to her!"
But Dante didn't move. He rose slowly to his feet, his eyes fixed on me. A muscle jumped in his jaw. "My Consigliere will handle it," he said-his voice a low, cold blade that sliced through my parents' hysteria.
For the rest of the night, he played the part of the devoted fiancé. He stood by my side, a formidable shield against the prying eyes of his rivals. He draped his jacket over my shoulders when a chill swept through the room. He even fed me a piece of my own birthday cake, his touch a ghost of the affection I once craved.
At precisely 9:09 PM, fireworks exploded across the night sky, spelling my name in glittering light that burned for an agonizing hour. A grand, spectacular lie for the whole city to see.
When the party finally ended, Dante dismissed his Capos. "Tonight belongs to Elara," he declared.
In the car, the silence was a crushing weight. His phone buzzed on the console between us. He glanced at it, and the charade shattered. He slammed on the brakes, the tires screaming as he swerved to the side of the road.
"I forgot a file at the office," he lied, his voice tight and unnatural. "You take a car home. I'll be back soon."
I climbed out without a word. I didn't need to see the caller ID this time. As his car sped away, my own phone lit up. A text. For a foolish second, my heart leaped, but the name on the screen wasn't his. It was Xu Tezhu, his Consigliere, and the message was clearly not meant for me.
We have located Ms. Vance at the waterfront parking garage.
A cold resolve settled deep in my bones. I hailed a cab and gave the driver the address.
I found them in a deserted corner of the parking garage. Their voices, carried on the damp air, reached me before they did. I heard her purring laugh, then his low murmur.
Then I saw them. He had her pressed against the side of his car, kissing her with a hunger he hadn't shown me since I woke up. His hands slid under her dress, pulling her closer.
"Are you happy now?" Sienna whispered, her voice triumphant.
He lifted her into the passenger seat, and the car began to rock with a frantic, desperate rhythm.
Something inside me didn't break. It disintegrated. The last ember of hope I'd been foolishly clutching was extinguished, leaving nothing but a cold void.
I walked away.
Back at the estate, I went to my room and began to pack the few things that truly belonged to me. A book of poetry. A faded photograph of me and Luca as a baby. I had no ID, no money, nowhere to go, but it didn't matter. I couldn't stay here another second.
The door burst open. Luca stood there, his small face contorted with a rage that was terrifying on a child. In his hands, he held a bucket.
"You're a bad woman!" he screamed, and he threw the contents of the bucket at me.
Thick, sticky red paint splattered across my white dress, my face, my hair. It felt like blood.
He then threw something at my feet. It was the small, hand-sewn doll I had made for him just before the accident. Its button eyes stared up at me, accusingly.
I looked at the boy I no longer recognized, the son whose love had been stolen from me. The pain was so immense it was almost a relief. There was nothing left to feel.
"Don't worry," I said, my voice eerily calm. "Sienna will be back soon. And I will be gone."