Claiming the Bloody Throne: The Mafia Heiress’ Return

AURORA

The word marriage felt foreign, unreal, like a cruel joke. Yet here I was, agreeing to tie myself to Vincenzo Donovan—a man I barely knew, who also happened to be Matteo’s uncle.

Vince stood in the corner of the room, calm and composed, as if this arrangement was just another business deal. His piercing green eyes seemed to see right through me, and I hated that I couldn’t look away.

My phone buzzed on the desk, Matteo’s name flashing on the screen.

“Answer it,” Vince said, his tone low but firm.

I shook my head. “He’ll know something’s off. He might already suspect me.”

“Then make him think he still owns your heart,” Vince replied coolly. “We need him distracted while we solidify our plans. Play along.”

My fingers hovered over the screen before I swiped to accept the call. Vince nodded, stepping closer as I put it on speaker.

“Camila?” Matteo’s voice oozed fake concern. “Where are you, baby?”

I stayed silent, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from snapping.

“Baby, listen,” he continued, his tone desperate. “I know you’re upset about the news, but it’s not what it looks like. Bianca—she’s nothing. Just a move for the company. You know I’ve been working on expanding, right? Marrying her is strategic. It’s staged, temporary. You’re the one I love.”

Lies. Every word dripped with manipulation. Vince smirked, his arms crossed as he leaned against the desk, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

“Talk to him,” Vince mouthed, typing on his phone and showing me a message:

Tell him you need time. Don’t let him know you’re back with your father’s clan.

I forced myself to speak, my voice steady. “Matt, I need space. Just… let me think about everything. I’ll talk to you when I’m ready.”

“Camila, please—”

I ended the call before he could say more. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan.

Vince straightened, his smirk replaced by something sharper. “Good. Now we move fast.”

“What’s the rush?” I shot back, folding my arms.

He stepped closer, his voice cold and deliberate. “The second Matteo realizes you’re back in the Herrera fold, he’ll come for you. And when he does, he won’t hesitate to destroy everything.”

Gabriel, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat. “The marriage needs to happen as soon as possible, Aurora. The papers are ready. We’ll register everything before the day ends tomorrow.”

I froze. “You’re serious?”

“As a bullet to the skull,” Vince replied, slipping his jacket back on. “If you hesitate now, you might as well hand Matteo the keys to your family’s empire.”

That night, sleep was impossible. My mind raced with doubts, fears, and questions I couldn’t answer. By morning, Gabriel woke me with a stack of documents in his hands.

“Sign these,” he said, placing them on the desk.

“What is this?” I asked, flipping through the pages. My eyes landed on the bold heading of one document: PRENUPTIAL AGREEMENT

“That man doesn’t trust me?” I snapped.

Gabriel sighed. “He’s a cautious man. You’d do the same in his position.”

My grip tightened on the pen. Anger flared, but I pushed it aside and signed the papers. When I finished, Gabriel handed me a box.

“Vince asked you to wear this for the ceremony.”

Inside was a sleek white dress and matching heels—simple but elegant. My fingers brushed the fabric as a wave of resentment washed over me. This wasn’t the wedding I’d dreamed of. There were no flowers, no music, no love. Just a cold transaction wrapped in urgency.

By midday, I stood beside Vince at the civil registry, the faint scent of his cologne filling the space between us. He slipped a ring onto my finger—a heavy gold band that felt more like a shackle than a symbol of unity. I mirrored his actions, sliding a matching ring onto his finger.

And just like that, it was done.

There were no vows, no declarations of love—only the scratch of pens on paper and the indifferent gaze of the clerk officiating the ceremony.

As we walked out, the weight of the moment settled over me. I was no longer Camila Alvarez, the woman who’d built a new life away from this chaos. Nor was I fully Aurora Herrera, the mafia princess I’d been born to be. I was something in between—something unrecognizable.

“Mrs. Donovan,” Vince said, his voice laced with mockery. “Are you ready to face what’s ahead?”

I glared at him. “We’re married on paper, Vince. But don’t call me that. I’m still Aurora Herrera.”

He smirked, his green eyes glinting with amusement. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Before I could retort, the sound of screeching tires shattered the tense air. A black SUV skidded to a stop in front of us, and the doors flew open. Men in masks jumped out, guns raised, their movements precise and practiced.

“Get down!” Vince barked, shoving me behind him as he drew a sleek handgun from his jacket.