Substitute Bride: Taming The Masked Mafia Don

Cleo POV:

I locked the door to the guest room, the cheap brass of the lock feeling flimsy in my hand. The room was decorated in cloying pastels, a saccharine prison designed to make a young lady feel cherished. It made my stomach turn.

From the false bottom of a worn leather suitcase, I pulled out a satellite phone. It was heavy, solid, and blessedly free of any Jennings sentimentality.

I dialed the number from memory. It connected on the first ring.

"Boss." Eddie's voice was crisp, professional.

"Get ready," I said, my voice low. "Twenty million dollars is coming your way tomorrow. I want it clean. No traces, no loose ends."

There was no surprise in his voice. No questions about where the money came from. Just calm competence. "What do you need me to do?"

"It'll come through a trust. They'll try to be clever. They won't be." I laid out the steps, the firewalls, the shell corporations. "And Eddie... I'm getting married. To Damien Valachi. I'll need you on standby."

A beat of silence. Then, a hint of concern crept into his tone. "Boss, the Don of the Valachi family... the rumors say he's a reaper. That his brides don't..."

"Rumors," I cut him off, my voice sharp, "are meant to be broken."

I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the frilly bedspread.

Burdette POV:

I was on the phone with my lawyer. My voice oozed smug confidence as I laid out the terms.

"A trust fund. Make the terms ironclad. The beneficiary has to be present, in person, to claim it. And she has to verify she's alive every month for the next year. Otherwise, the funds revert back to me."

The lawyer probably warned me it was complicated, but I just laughed. "Just do it. She won't live past tomorrow. The money will just take a little vacation in her account."

The next morning, I handed Cleo the documents and a pristine bank card myself. My smile was a grotesque parody of fatherly affection. "Your compensation, Cleo."

She took the folder, her eyes scanning the dense legal jargon. She didn't blink. Not once.

Outside, a man in a courier's uniform was waiting. Cleo handed him the folder and the card. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. He nodded curtly and walked away.

I watched him go, a smirk playing on my lips. My plan was flawless.

Then my phone buzzed. A text from my bank.

Notification: The balance of your trust account is now $0.00.

I stared at it. My face went slack with disbelief, then contorted in pure rage. I jabbed at my phone, screaming at my lawyer, at my banker. The answer was the same. The funds had been legally transferred.

I'd been played. Utterly and completely.

With a roar of fury, I hurled my phone against the wall, where it shattered into a hundred useless pieces.

The wedding car was waiting. I stood in the foyer, trembling with rage, my face a blotchy red, as Cleo walked down the grand staircase. She wore a simple, elegant white dress. Her face was calm, her smile serene.

She paused at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes finding mine. She mouthed two words at me.

Thank you.

Then she turned and walked out the door.

Damien POV:

I sat in my wheelchair in the dark, opulent heart of the Valachi estate. The shadows clung to me like a second skin. Kyle O'Neil, my second-in-command, stood before me, his voice low and deferential.

"Don, the Jennings family made a last-minute change. Jalynn Jennings has been replaced by her older sister, Cleo Long. She was the Jennings family's adopted daughter, raised in the country."

I slowly turned the heavy signet ring on my finger. The silver mask covering half my face was impassive. "The reason."

"The story they're putting out is that the sister was jealous and schemed to take the marriage for herself. A social climber, desperate for Valachi power."

A soft, contemptuous sound escaped from behind the mask—not quite a laugh. She must be yet another of my so-called father's lackeys.

"A pawn from Chairman Constantine is still a pawn, no matter the name."

I turned my head, the gray eyes visible through the mask's opening fixing on Kyle. They were devoid of any warmth.

"Proceed with the original plan. After the ceremony is over... handle her."

"Yes, Don."

Kyle bowed his head and retreated from the room, leaving me alone with the shadows and the rain. I watched the droplets trace paths down the glass, my reflection a distorted phantom in the dark pane.

I did not know the woman who was coming. I did not care to. She was a Jennings. And like all pawns, she would be removed from the board when her purpose was served.