Mafia Princess Reclaimed Her Throne at Her Wedding

Liora’s POV

I was rounding the corner when I heard it—that sugary-sweet voice that instantly made my skin crawl.

“Liora!”

Viola.

Evan’s so-called ex. Or, according to his little speech earlier, the only woman he’s ever truly loved.

God, even her voice grated now. I could kick myself for ever trusting her.

I was the one who let her work at my family’s casino.

I believed her story when she said she had to take a break from her Italian husband. The way she’d been so sad.

I even comforted her. Held her hand. Told her she was strong.

What a damn joke.

I turned slowly.

Viola stood by the elevator in a clingy, too-perfect office outfit, waving like we were still friends.

Like she hadn’t just been the ghost in the room Evan couldn’t stop mourning.

“Evan didn’t mention you were stopping by today,” she said with a polite smile—one that didn’t reach her eyes.

I didn’t bother to smile back.

“Just came by for the monthly meeting. I’m still the name on the board. Remember?”

It came out sharper than I intended, and for a flicker of a second, I saw it—surprise. Real surprise, breaking through the gloss on her face.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said quickly, recovering. She reached for my hand like nothing had shifted. “Want to go to Evan’s office together?”

I casually pulled my hand back. “Actually, I’ve got a headache. I think I’ll head home.”

Her eyes flickered—just for a second. Something cold and calculating beneath all that sugar.

She reached into her oversized purse and pulled out a crisp white shirt and a neatly folded navy tie.

“Evan left these at my place a few days ago,” she said, holding out the bag. “I washed them. Figured you might want them back—since you’re heading home.”

I took them without flinching. Clutched the bag tight in my hand.

The message was clear. He’d spent the night. Probably more than once.

Now that I thought, Viola’s pattern was too familiar. Back in the days, she’d pulled the same move. And I’d fallen for it—doubted her, doubted myself.

She and Evan, gaslighting me, probably laughing behind closed doors while I spiraled.

Every time, Viola would act sweet, saying things like, “Liora. Don’t overthink—I am just taking care of him…”

The old me would’ve nodded, said alright, and gone running to Evan for answers.

Viola probably loved that part the most.

Today, I just took the bag and smiled. “Thanks for helping. I know you’ve done a lot for Evan. And as his future wife, I truly hope he keeps surrounding himself with friends like you.”

I let friends land exactly the way I meant it to.

The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off her reaction—but not before I caught it. The twist in her expression.

Rage.

I didn’t give Viola the show she wanted.

Be patient, Viola. The show you came for was coming—three days from now.

The wedding.

I knew the closer it got, the more unhinged Viola would become.

Who could blame her? Watching the man she loves marry someone else—even for money—was still a knife to the gut.

And Evan? He had no idea how dangerous a jealous woman could be.

Lucky for me, I just thought of the perfect way to use her jealousy against him.

…

I’d barely stepped outside Evan’s casino when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I didn’t need to check the screen. I already knew who it was.

Evan.

Poor Viola must have run straight to him—no doubt twisting the story until she came out the victim.

It seemed as if the word ‘Friend’ had truly twisted a knife into her heart.

I reached for the phone. Paused. Then slowly pulled my hand back.

I returned to the mansion with Evan and started packing.

This house… I’d bought it thinking it would be our wedding home. The place where we’d build a life. Raise a family. Grow old together.

But clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.

So I might as well get out while the market was still high.

By the time I finished sorting my jewelry and had a team of workers helping me pack up my closet, the front door burst open.

Evan stormed in, his face dark with fury.

“Liora, what the hell?” he barked. “You made fun of Viola? I thought you two were friends!”

He came down the hall fast, and the second he saw the boxes, he faltered. His eyes landed on the half-packed room, the chaos of open drawers, scattered heels, garment bags.

He stiffened. “What… What are you doing?”

I didn’t even pause. Just folded another dress and slid it into the box.

“Just clearing out some old clothes,” I said lightly. “After the wedding, I planned to get new ones anyway.”

I didn’t want to alert Evan. Not yet. He still needed to believe I was in the dark, still wrapped up in his lies.

The crease between his brows softened. He reached for my hand. “Liora… did Viola do something to upset you? You’re not the kind of woman who just made fun of another woman.”

I looked up, meeting his gaze evenly. “What kind of woman do you think I am, Evan?”

He blinked. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he quickly smoothed it over. “You’re sweet,” he said. “Kind. Soft.”

I gave a soft laugh. “Then why’d you come running back the second you heard someone badmouth me? Didn’t even bother to hear my side first?”