Betrayed, I Married the Feared Cripple

The preparation I spoke of to Clara was tested the very next morning.

A Herrera Family Soldier stood in the foyer of the Herrera estate. He was a mountain of a man in an impeccable black suit, his eyes devoid of anything resembling warmth. He didn't bring a polite request; he brought a summons from Elder Maria Herrera.

Elena Herrera, my step mother, masked her displeasure behind a tight, Botox-stiffened smile. But the moment we were sealed inside the back of her chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce, her true colors bled through the suffocating cloud of her French perfume.

"Listen to me, you ungrateful little bitch," Elena hissed, her manicured fingers digging into my forearm. "Sophia's wedding to Leo is the priority. It secures our alliance with the Contreras family. You will keep your mouth shut today and let me handle the dowry negotiations. Our family's interests come first. Understand?"

"Perfectly," I replied, my voice flat, gently but firmly pulling my arm from her grip.

The Herrera Ancestral Wing was a fortress of old-world power, entirely devoid of the flashy, gilded desperation of the main house. We were escorted deep into the heart of the manor, into Maria Herrera's private study. The room was a cavern of dark mahogany, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined with leather-bound volumes. The air was thick with the scent of aged brandy, Cuban cigars, and lemon polish—the unmistakable perfume of ruthless authority.

Behind a massive carved desk sat Maria Herrera. As the Family Elder, she wielded a terrifying amount of influence. She was a woman who had survived decades of mafia blood feuds, burying a Don husband, only to fiercely guard the throne for her son, Giovanni. Her silver hair was pulled back into a severe knot, and her obsidian eyes missed nothing.

"Sit," Maria commanded. It wasn't an invitation.

We sat. Maria didn't waste time with pleasantries. "The wedding is to happen swiftly. We must finalize Isabella's dowry and the transfer of her mother's trust fund."

Elena immediately adopted a look of weary martyrdom. She sighed, pressing a hand to her chest. "Signora Maria, you must understand the immense pressure the Herrera family is under. Preparing for Sophia's grand union with Leo Contreras has been our focus. To suddenly prepare a second bride, especially on such short notice... it is a severe strain on our finances."

I kept my face perfectly blank, though my pulse quickened. Elena was playing a dangerous game, attempting to frame my marriage to a Don as an inconvenient burden.

Maria's expression didn't shift. She merely nodded slowly, a predator watching its prey wander into the open. "I see. And how do you propose we resolve this... strain?"

Emboldened by the Elder's calm tone, Elena leaned forward, her greed completely overriding her survival instincts. "The Russo family has offered a very generous bridal settlement. I believe the most elegant solution is to use that settlement to form the bulk of Isabella's dowry, supplemented by two of our vineyards in the valley. It is the most respectable arrangement under the circumstances."

Silence fell over the study. It was a heavy, suffocating quiet that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Elena had just suggested that the Russo family pay for their own bride, effectively allowing the Herreras to pocket my mother's trust fund. In our world, it was an insult of catastrophic proportions.

When Maria Herrera finally spoke, her voice was a razor blade wrapped in silk. "Let me be absolutely clear, Elena. You are suggesting that Don Damien Russo buys his own wife with our money?"

Elena's smugness vanished instantly. The blood drained from her face. "No, Signora, I merely meant—"

"You meant to insult our allies," Maria interrupted, leaning forward, the aura of a predator fully unleashed. "You meant to imply that we should finance your biological daughter's wedding to an Underboss, while sending a beggar to a Don. The Herrera honor is written in respect. Any slight against the Russos is answered with a thorough Vendetta. Do you want to bring a war to my doorstep?"

Elena trembled, her mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish. "Please, I meant no disrespect. I was only thinking of the families—"

"Save your breath," Maria snapped, her eyes cutting toward the heavy mahogany doors. "I will not discuss this further with a greedy fool. Send for your husband. We will see if Giovanni Herrera shares his wife's suicidal audacity."