The Jilted Mafia Bride And Her Rise

Vivienne POV

The moment the gathering ended, my encrypted phone buzzed against the fabric of my dress.

I stepped into the quiet, shadowed hallway of the estate to take the call.

It was Christian.

"If the Consigliere asks, tell him you do not want to go to Paris," Christian instructed at once, forgoing any greeting.

His voice was rushed, and a frantic quality frayed its edges.

"Tell him it is your choice, so it does not reflect poorly on Lilith's standing."

I stood immobile, the cold of the marble floor seeming to seep through the thin soles of my shoes and into my bones.

"Lilith has had a very hard life since her father was killed," Christian emphasized, as though that fact excused this new demand.

For a moment, I could not form a word; the air seemed to have been punched from my lungs.

Over the line, I heard a high-pitched giggle that made my stomach turn.

"Christian, how do I handle this shipment of contraband?" Lilith asked in the background.

I heard the rustle of fabric, a sound too intimate for a business matter.

Christian's voice softened at once, shedding its former urgency.

"Let me guide you through the logistics," he told her gently.

"I will show you, hand-in-hand."

The impulse to scream tore at my throat, but four years of the Family's discipline had stitched my lips shut with wire. I swallowed a mouthful of saliva that tasted of rust and blood.

I did not make a sound. I simply ended the call.

Without a pause, I walked straight to the Consigliere's office to submit my formal transfer dossier.

The heavy wooden doors were slightly ajar.

I pushed them wide and stepped inside, my back held rigid.

The Consigliere looked up from his great mahogany desk.

He looked confused, his brow furrowed as he registered my solitary arrival.

"Where is Christian?" he asked.

"Christian is not going," I replied flatly.

The Consigliere leaned back in his deep leather chair, his eyes studying me with intensity.

He looked genuinely shocked.

"Christian has always played the part of the fiercely protective partner," the Consigliere noted, a note of disbelief in his voice.

"How could he let you go to a foreign territory alone?"

He tapped his pen with a thoughtful rhythm on the desk.

"You two are supposed to swear your union vows in two days."

A sudden prickle of tears, hot and sharp, stung the bridge of my nose, threatening my composure.

I recalled Christian's past blood oath, a memory that now felt like a grotesque parody.

He had sworn I was the most important thing in his world.

I forced myself to keep my voice steady, my fingers gripping the edge of the dossier so tightly my knuckles were white.

"Christian might be joking," I said quietly, offering a fragile excuse I did not believe myself.

The office doors were suddenly pushed open behind me, shattering the tense silence.

Lilith barged in uninvited, a waft of cloying perfume preceding her.

She walked right past me and handed the Consigliere a stack of papers, her bearing that of one who owned the place.

"These are the latest ledger reports for my front business," Lilith announced.

The Consigliere's sharp eyes scanned the pages, catching the glaring discrepancies at once. "This is doctored garbage," he barked, slamming the papers back onto the desk. His fury at the blatant fraud and her brazen intrusion was plain to see.

Lilith immediately turned to me. The muscles at the corners of her eyes twitched, and her mouth pulled into an irrepressible curve—the expression of a hunter seeing a trap spring shut.

She placed a hand on her chest.

"You are so lucky, Vivi," Lilith said.

She feigned envy, her tone heavy with false sincerity.

"It must be amazing to have such a powerful, protective Capo-in-training like Christian."

She stepped closer to me, a deliberate invasion of my space.

"My operation's success is entirely due to Christian's hands-on intervention," Lilith boasted.

She smiled widely.

"Christian will be spending the next few months holed up in the warehouse with me."

"Do you mind?"

Her face beamed with a triumphant smile that made me sick.

It reminded me of my own past innocence, a time when I trusted the man I loved without question.

A bitter sensation settled like a stone in my chest.

I did not let my mask slip.

I shook my head without expression, maintaining a facade of indifference.

"I do not mind," I said calmly.

"It is Christian's prerogative."

Lilith's smile turned sharp and provocative.

"Since Christian is so capable and pursued by many in the underworld," Lilith asked slowly, drawing out each syllable.

"If he were to shift his loyalties, would that also be his prerogative?"

I looked her dead in the eye, refusing to yield an inch.

I calmly nodded.

"Yes."

Sensing the venomous atmosphere, the Consigliere frowned sharply.

"Get out of my office, Lilith," the Consigliere ordered, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

Lilith pouted her lips, her sweet act falling away for a moment of petulance.

"I was just asking a question," she muttered.

She turned on her heel and left the room, the heavy doors clicking shut behind her.

The Consigliere slid two transfer documents across his desk toward me.

"Take these back and tell Christian to reconsider," the Consigliere told me.

"This promotion is a rare ascension."

He lowered his voice, leaning forward slightly.

"Keep a close eye on Lilith."

"Do not let Christian get too close to her."

I understood his logic, the political maneuvering behind the words.

But in my heart, I already knew the truth.

A man whose loyalty wavers cannot be tethered, not by blood, not by vows.

I took the documents and walked out of the office, heading straight for the front doors of the safehouse, unaware of the storm waiting for me outside.

I did not yet know that the storm was not just the rain. It was the photograph Lilith had already uploaded to the Family network—a photo of Christian's jacket draped over her shoulders, captioned with three words: "My new protector."