Marrying The Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Mafia Brother

At our wedding, my fiancé left me standing alone at the altar and ran to another woman. He openly betrayed our union, lifting his mistress from the floor in his arms. I walked straight to the head table, to the most feared man in the city-his older brother. The Godfather. "The Woodward family owes me a husband," I said calmly. An hour later, I married the Godfather. But my ex-fiancé refused to accept it. He went insane. He kidnapped me, just to harvest my blood for his mistress. But they underestimated the Godfather's loyalty to me. He came for me. Even if he had to tear the whole city apart, he would find me. Chapter 1 Eloise's Perspective My fiancé didn't just humiliate me at our wedding; he single-handedly destroyed his own future. He left me, a daughter of the Bowles family, standing alone at the altar while he rushed to the side of a woman whose only real illness was a desperate need for attention. My hands didn't tremble. In the world of Chicago's underworld, emotion is a weakness. Softness gets you killed. I watched my fiancé, Holden, lift a woman off the floor. Jaidyn, Holden's first love. Her dramatic collapse came at the perfect moment, just as we were raising our glasses to celebrate our union. Her pale blue dress pooled around her like a martyr's shroud, her eyelashes fluttering delicately against her cheeks. It was a performance worthy of an Oscar. "She can't breathe!" Holden shouted, his voice cracking. He looked pathetic. A boy playing dress-up in a man's tailored suit. "I have to get her to the car. The wedding... we'll have to wait. I can't just watch her die, Eloise." Three hundred guests filled the ballroom, including the heads of the Five Families. They watched me. They waited for me to cry. They waited for the Mafia princess to crumble, to destroy my father's reputation once and for all. I took a slow, deliberate sip of my champagne. The bubbles burned my throat, but the cold liquid steadied me. "Go," I said. Holden looked at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of relief and guilt. He thought I was giving him permission. He didn't realize it was a goodbye. "I'm sorry, El," he said, lifting Jaidyn. She let out a soft, pitiful whimper. "I'll call you from the ER." He pushed through the double doors, leaving a scandal in his wake. My father stood to my left, his face mottled with rage, looking ready to draw his gun. This wasn't just a breakup. It was a breach of contract. A violation of the peace treaty between the Bowles family and the Woodward family. I set my glass down on the table. In the silence of the room, the sound of crystal meeting linen was deafening. I turned my gaze to the head table. Alphonse Woodward sat there. The Godfather. The boss of bosses. Holden's older brother. He was completely still. He leaned back in his chair, a glass of whiskey resting on his knee, his broad shoulders straining the seams of his tuxedo like armor. His dark, deep-set eyes were fixed directly on me. They were cold, merciless. Assessing the damage like a general surveying a battlefield. He was the most feared man in this city. I didn't run after my fiancé. I walked straight to the head table. His guards tensed, hands instinctively moving towards their jackets, but Alphonse raised a single finger. They froze. I stopped in front of him. "Your brother made a mistake," I said. Alphonse swirled his whiskey. "That he did." "He disgraced my family. He broke the covenant." "He's emotional," Alphonse said, his voice a low rumble. "He believes he's saving a life." "He's saving a parasite," I corrected. "And in doing so, he's left the seat next to me empty. A seat crucial for solidifying the alliance between our territories." Alphonse took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving mine. "What are you suggesting, Eloise?" I didn't even blink. "I'm suggesting the Woodwards owe me a husband. And since Holden is clearly unfit to lead this family, I expect the man in charge to clean up the mess." The air vanished from the room. Eyes widened as everyone realized what I'd just done. I had just proposed to the devil. Alphonse stood. He towered over me, a dark, imposing wall. He reached out, his rough fingers brushing a stray piece of hair from my cheek. The touch was possessive, terrifying, and electric. "One hour," he announced, his voice carrying through the room. "Have the pen ready for the marriage contract." He drained the rest of his glass, set it down, and walked out, not even glancing at the door his brother had escaped through. I turned to face the crowd. I lifted my chin. The wedding was still on. The groom had just been replaced.