Chosen By The Mafia

Eliana Gill's POV:

Over the six years Lucas Morgan and I had been together, he had canceled our wedding an unbelievable ninety-nine times.

The first time, his former flame, Bella Smith, came back to town. The moment he heard the news, he left and abandoned me on a sun-scorched lawn for a whole day.

The second time, during the wedding ceremony, Lucas learned that Bella had been admitted to the hospital with a stomach bug, so he left without a second thought. I stood there clutching my bouquet while the guests snickered and whispered around me.

The third time, Lucas was about to slip the ring onto my finger when Bella called him, saying she wanted the freshest cherries. Lucas flung the ring aside and left without hesitation.

From then on, whenever Lucas and I were about to get married, Bella would somehow manufacture another emergency—and apparently, Lucas was the only man who could handle it.

Every time, Lucas would summon his most earnest expression and say to me, "I'll make this right. Next time, I'll take care of everything and give you a wedding more spectacular than you could ever imagine."

But I knew, deep down, that we would never be able to get married successfully.

After ninety-nine chances, I was finally ready to step aside and let Lucas and Bella be together.

***

Today marked our ninety-ninth attempt to get married.

The church was utterly deserted. No flowers adorned the aisles, no applause echoed, and not one guest had been invited.

That was because a grim suspicion had already settled in my bones.

The wedding this time probably still wouldn't be completed.

Even with a fever scorching through me, I stood before the altar and listened as the elderly priest began the vows in a solemn voice.

Then, right on cue, Lucas' phone rang, shattering the sacred moment.

After ending the call, he turned to me with blunt urgency. "Eliana, I need to leave. Something happened with Bella, and I need to go to her right now. I swear I'll make this up to you. Next time, I'll handle every detail myself and give you a wedding more spectacular than you ever imagined. Oh, and I'll pick up that mango mousse you love on the way home."

The words had just left his mouth before he bolted from the church, never once looking back.

I watched him disappear, my lips twisting into a smile edged with bitter ridicule.

Mango mousse—seriously?

I had stood beside him since I was nineteen, helping him claw his way up until he became the Morgan family's second-in-command.

Yet somehow, he had forgotten that I was dangerously allergic to mangoes—that a single bite could send me into anaphylactic shock.

Mango mousse had always been Bella's favorite.

Just then, my phone lit up with an incoming call.