Hey Fiancé, Guess Who’s Your Stepmother Now

My marriage to Julian Valachi, heir to the Valachi family, was arranged. After my father died, Julian rejected me. Publicly. Three times.

Each time, he’d offer some high-minded excuse that left me no room to argue.

The third time, at a charity gala, I found him flirting with a new model and overheard him mocking me to his friends.

"A woman as dull as Aurora? Who would ever want her?"

"It's pathetic how desperately she's trying to marry me."

I glanced down at my gown, turned on my heel, and knocked on the penthouse door of his father, Caspian Valachi.

Later, on the day I moved into the Valachi estate, I ran into Julian.

He thought I was there to harass him and was predictably rude.

He had no idea I was his new stepmother.

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1

My fiancé, Julian, refused to marry me three times.

The third time, draped in a haute couture gown, I turned my back on him and married his father. If he values his family so much, he'll have no choice but to respect me as its new matriarch.

"That bitch Aurora Blanchard! When will she get the hell out of my life!"

Julian's furious oath shattered the night's silence. From the shadows of the private hangar, I watched the man—my so-called fiancé—wrap his arms around a scantily clad model. Moonlight glinted off the lake as they prepared to board a private jet to Las Vegas.

Three times.

He had rejected me three times.

At our engagement party, in front of all of Chicago's high society, he’d claimed, "There's a problem with my father's shipping lines. This isn't the time for marriage."

At an art auction, he refused to place a joint bid with me. "Rory, you just don't get it. A man needs ambition. Can't you be less demanding?"

And just last week at a family dinner, he couldn’t even be bothered to look at me. "Maybe Aurora should find someone who actually gives a damn about art."

Each time, he used the excuse of being too busy for a wedding to humiliate me. And now, this "career-focused" heir was about to whisk his lover off to Las Vegas to burn through cash.

"As soon as she gives up for good, I'll be free," Julian's insults carried on the wind. "My father can't force me to marry a washed-up socialite nobody wants."

Tiffany's laughter was sharp and piercing. "Are you sure she'll ever stop chasing you, darling?"

"What can she do? Aurora Blanchard is just a canary in a gilded cage who knows a little about paint and canvas. Without the ledger her dead father left her, she's nothing."

A ledger?

My fingers clenched into a fist. That ledger recorded thirty years of favors and debts that flowed through Chicago's underworld, including what the Valachi family owed my father—a debt they could never truly repay.

But tonight, I didn't want compensation.

I was going to burn his world to the ground.

Twenty minutes later, I had changed into a tailored black suit. The silk lining clung to my skin, every line of the fabric screaming calm and resolution.

I fired up my sports car and sped toward the Valachi Group headquarters.

"Ma'am, you can't go in!" The building's security guard tried to block my car.

"Move." I rolled down the window, my voice terrifyingly calm. "Tell Caspian Valachi that Aurora Blanchard is here to fulfill the marriage contract."

In the top-floor boardroom, the core members of the family were in a meeting. When I pushed open the double doors, every head turned. They all stared in shock at the lone woman in a black suit who had just stormed the Valachi family's center of power.

"Aurora?" The family's Consigliere, an older man named Dominic, widened his eyes. "What are you—"

"According to the marriage contract signed in 1993 between the Blanchard and Valachi families," I announced from the far end of the long table.

My voice echoed in the cavernous room. "The contract stipulates, 'The heir of the Blanchard family shall be united in marriage with the Valachi family to solidify the alliance between our two great houses.'"

"Are you insane?" A distant Valachi cousin stood up. "Julian isn't even here—"

"The contract specifies 'the head of the Valachi family,' not 'Julian Valachi,'" I interrupted, pulling the document from my clutch. "And according to tradition, the patriarch who represents the family is the Don, not the heir apparent."

A heavy silence descended upon the room.

"So, I am here to marry," I declared, my gaze fixed on the man seated at the head of the table, my voice devoid of emotion, "Caspian Valachi."

"Dear God..." someone gasped.

Just then, the sound of heavy footsteps approached. The doors opened again, and Caspian strode in, followed by several of his Capos. He paused when he saw me, then his gaze swept over the shocked faces in the room.

"What's going on?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Don Caspian, this young woman... she's lost her mind," Dominic stammered. "She claims she's here to marry you, according to the contract—"

"Shut up." Caspian held up a hand and walked toward me.

He stood a head taller than me, his deep-set eyes boring into mine. The man was nearly forty, yet the years had only carved more authority and rugged charm into his features. His suit stretched across broad shoulders, and he radiated an aura of absolute power.

"Why?" he asked simply.

I met his gaze without flinching. "Because I need a real man, not a coward."

Caspian was silent for a long moment. No one else in the room dared to breathe.

Finally, he gave a single, decisive nod.

"Dominic, get a priest."

"Don, are you certain—"

"Now."

An hour later, with the entire room as witnesses, I became Caspian Valachi's wife.

The wedding was brutally simple. A few traditional vows and the weight of a heavy diamond ring on my finger. When Caspian kissed me, his lips were firm, and he tasted of cigar and whiskey.

It wasn't love. But it was a beginning.

At dawn, a gentle kiss on my forehead woke me. Caspian leaned in, his voice a low whisper. "Rory, something urgent has come up in New York. I have to fly out. Get some rest. This estate is your fortress now. Your home."

I opened my eyes and watched him adjust his cufflinks in the dim light.

"How long will you be gone?"

He paused, looking back at me. "You'll have bodyguards. I'll be back before you know it."

After the door clicked shut, I sat up in bed, gazing at the ring on my finger. Sunlight began to filter through the silk curtains, illuminating the strange, new room.

I imagined the look on Julian's face when he finally came home.

This was going to be fun.