Married to the Mafia's Lost Heir

Luca was rendered speechless with fury.

Sienna wiped away her crocodile tears and shook her head, adopting the patronizing look of a socialite lecturing a naive child.

"Isabella, a wedding is a serious affair. This isn't some childish game of pretend.

"Don't be fooled because Matteo looks presentable. He's a misplaced spare. He'll be shipped back to whatever gutter he crawled out of soon enough. Don't ruin your life out of spite."

Her words snapped Luca back to his senses. The sickly pallor left his face, replaced by a cold, smooth calm.

He shot me a look of pure contempt. "You're embarrassing yourself, Isabella. Keep this tantrum up, and you'll be used and discarded.

"When that happens, don't bother crawling back to me on your knees. I won't want you."

With that final blow, he escorted Sienna out of City Hall, her arm tucked possessively in his.

As their smug silhouettes vanished, Matteo quietly released my hand. His voice was low, almost resigned. "He doesn't mean it. He's waiting for you to come to your senses."

"I know he is," I said flatly.

Five years. Even the love faded, I knew his pride, his anger, his patterns.

"But I'm not going back."

A year ago, he loved me fiercely. We were planning our future.

Then the Rossis came. They didn't just bring home a forgotten son—they revealed him as the true heir, the next Don, who was already promised to a flawless mafia princess from the rival Costello family.

Still, he fought them. He endured three days of their brutal regime—a test meant to break him—just to secure their permission to marry me.

He emerged half-dead, but he smiled through bloodied lips and held my hand. "No matter what I become in this family, you stand beside me as my equal."

I believed him. I thought that vow was carved in stone.

But one year in the gilded cage of the Rossi empire changed him. He became the polished, acknowledged heir.

And he let his fiancée move into our villa.

Icy politeness thawed into constant mentions of her. He let her redecorate the study I designed for him into a lounge for their vapid circle.

He didn't blink when she "accidentally" lost the first wallet I'd ever sewn for him.

And on the anniversary of my mother's death, while I kept a solitary vigil, he was at an auction with Sienna, bidding on a necklace she fancied.

That was the moment the last fragile thread snapped.

The boy who loved me was dead, buried under the weight of power and a more suitable bride.

I turned to Matteo, who had stood beside me in stoic silence. "I need you to understand something. I'm not doing this out of spite. I don't want a love that wavers. When I said I would be with you, I meant it."

Matteo's expression shifted. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and his dark eyes held a sudden, fierce intensity. He seized my hand, his grip almost painfully tight.

"Then listen to me. If you choose to walk my path, you will not lose. In any way."

I nodded, smiling faintly.

"Where do you live? I'll move in with you, if that's alright."

He didn't hesitate. He even came back with me to the villa to collect my things.

We opened the door to a wall of pulsing music and laughter.

Sienna and her clique had turned the living room into their personal nightclub. The music screeched to a halt as we entered.

One of her girl friends squealed dramatically.

"Isabella! Back so soon? Did your little walk of shame make you realize your mistake? Have you come here to beg Luca to take you back?"

I let out a cold laugh. "I'm just here to pack my things. I'm moving in with my husband."

The room fell silent. I didn't bother with them and headed straight upstairs. Matteo followed closely behind me.

"Isabella, stop right there!" Luca's voice thundered from behind, hot with rage.

"This is my house. And you're bringing an outsider into my bedroom?"

I paused and looked back.

"I'm married now. That makes me the outsider. So what's wrong with my husband helping me collect what's left of my life here?"

"Husband?" Sienna's friends burst into mocking laughter.

"She really said ‘husband'! She actually married the bastard!"

"Trash belongs with trash, I guess. How fitting."

Sienna glided forward, a wine glass dangling from her fingers, her face a mask of faux concern. "Don't say things you'll regret, darling. I know you're hurt, but you can't possibly be serious about going with him.

"He's a counterfeit. Go with him, and what—plan to sleep on the streets together?"

Before Matteo could answer, one of her friends cut in with a snicker.

"Oh, Sienna, don't worry! They won't be homeless. I hear Matteo has a charming place in the West End. Very… vibrant neighborhood."

"The West End?" Another girl fake-gasped. "That rat-infested slum? The red-light district?"

"Isabella, could you really stomach living in a place like that? You'd last a day."

Their cruel laughter echoed. Luca's face was a storm of anger and something else—shame, as if my defiance was a personal insult to his name.

"This is your last chance, Isabella," he ground out, each word clipped. "Go upstairs. Alone. Pack your tantrum away, and we'll forget this ever happened.

"Otherwise, when you come crawling back because you can't handle the filth—"

His eyes, which once held only me, were now filled with utter disdain.

"Whether I can handle it or not is no longer your concern."

I didn't look back. I took Matteo's hand and finished walking up the stairs.

Packing was quick. I'd arrived with little, and I'd accumulated little of true value.

After moving in with Luca, I always tried so hard to blend in. I couldn't afford luxury brands, and I was terrified of seeming poor. So aside from what he gave me, I bought nothing.

I had arrived with almost nothing. Leaving behind the things he'd given me, I was leaving with almost nothing too.

When we came back downstairs, everyone was still there.

Sienna spotted my tiny suitcase and laughed with disdain.

"All that talk about moving out, and that's all you're taking with you? I knew it. This is just a pathetic act of jealousy."