Page 19 of Mafia King of Lies

“You know it’s true, Marta,” my father snaps, turning to where my mother stands. “Do you think I want to give her away? To force her into a life she didn’t choose? I don’t have a choice.Without Matteo, we will drown in the pool of blood Antonio left behind.”

My heart clenches at the mention of my brother. I don’t want to accept that he’s gone, but every time we speak of his death, I’m plunged back into the nightmare I’m trying so desperately to escape.

The room falls silent. The only sound is the gentle strumming of a violin as guests begin filtering into the cathedral. I can hear the faint, distant rhythm of my heart breaking with every beat.

“I’m sorry, my daughter,” my mother says, her voice breaking the heavy silence.

Tears brim in my eyes, threatening to spill, but I hold them back. I push down the despair clawing at my chest and dig deep for the strength I need.

“Maria, listen to me. This isn’t just about you—it never was. It’s about our family’s survival. Since your brother’s death, we’ve been exposed. Vulnerable. They hover at the edges, drawn to the scent of weakness. If we’re humiliated now, in front of all these families, we lose everything.Respect. Power. Support. No one will stand with us.”

I swallow hard. “So, this marriage… it’s just politics to you?”

“It always has been.” His voice didn’t waver. “Matteo needs this alliance as much as we do. He wants control in Italy, and we’re the perfect bridge. That’s why he’ll never walk away from this union—because it strengthens both our names. This marriage is our insurance.”

My hands curl into fists at my sides. “This isn’t fair…”

“No. It isn’t.” His tone didn’t soften. “But fairness has no place in our world. Think about your mother. Think about what happens if we fall from power. She becomes the easiest target. They’ll go after her first. Do you really want that?”

The knot in my throat tightens. “I… I don’t want that…”

“Then you need to understand something, and you need to understand it now.” He stepped closer. “If you walk away from this, you’re not just walking away from a marriage. You’returning your back on your family. On everything we’ve built. On the people who love you.”

He paused, eyes locked on mine. “Is that a risk you’re willing to take?”

“I will marry him,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

I hold my father’s stare, refusing to let my eyes waver, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. But inside, something splinters—quietly, irrevocably.

“I’ll wear the dress. Smile for the cameras. Play the part of the dutiful bride,” I continue, each word tasting like ash. “But don’t mistake my silence for submission.”

I finally look away, not out of defeat—but because I’ve made peace with the war I’ve just agreed to enter.

“If this is what it takes to protect what’s left of this family…” I pause, my voice hardening, “then so be it. I’ll give them a wedding. But don’t ask me to give him my heart.”

“You have ten minutes, and then we need to begin. Come, Marta—you need to take your seat.”

My father holds out his hand to my mother, which she takes, though with a slight hesitation. Her caramel eyes are clouded with resignation and regret, but she says nothing.

The perfect wife of a Mafia boss.

My father’s word is law, and she never challenges it—no matter how deeply it conflicts with what she wants.

Is this what my future is doomed to be?

They leave the bridal room, and I’m left alone to sit in the wreckage of what today has become.

I fucking knew it. It had all gone too smoothly.

I knew something would go wrong, but never—not even in my worst nightmares—did I imagine it would end with me marrying the Warlord.

I leave my room exactly ten minutes later. I find my father waiting by the closed cathedral doors, a cigarette perched between his lips—unlit.

“Mamá will kill you if you light that,” I say, stepping up beside him. “You told her you quit.”

He chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. He rips the cigarette from his mouth and tucks it into his pocket.

“It’s only for the scent. I never light it. Your mother made it very clear she doesn’t want me smoking—and her word is law.”

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