Emiliano's Mafia princess

Wedding Bells

(Four weeks before the wedding)

Giuliana's POV

Emiliano was quickly rushed to the family's clinic, still in Morano's mansion.

The smell of drugs and antiseptic filled my nostrils as I watched Emiliano lie unconscious on the bed.

The doctor had said he would live, but his survival was dancing on a thin thread.

“This is stupid... why should I care if he survives?” I paced the room, my lips drawn into a frown. "...heck! I should be celebrating my freedom or probably finish him right here and now.”

My voice wavered, betraying my thought.

It must be guilt. He took the bullet for me and all that's left in my heart for him is appreciation.

Nothing else.

I walked out of the room, chin up.

(Two weeks before the wedding)

Two weeks had passed, but Emiliano was yet to gain consciousness.

The mansion had changed. Emiliano had only been here for a short time, but his absence left a gaping hole. The news about his death spread like wildfire. But he wasn't even dead.

He just needed to come out of a coma.

“How's he?” I asked the doctor immediately I got to his ward. I had refused to visit him for the past two weeks, trying to convince myself that he didn't matter. The fact he was laying on that bed like a vegetable didn't bother me.

He meant nothing to me.

But I could not hold on to that thought anymore. I knew I cared about Emiliano enough to want him to live, even if I detested the idea of marrying him.

“His body is healing quite alright, but his state of consciousness is stillប. He should be awake by now seeing how much he has improved, so let's just wait and see,” Doc Adrian replied.

“So he'll wake up soon, right?” My eyes immediately became brighter.

I was hopeful. I felt delighted.

I hated it.

“I couldn't predict that,” the doctor sighed.

“But you said…”

“I won't lie to you, Miss Giulia… if he doesn't regain consciousness soon, he might never wake up. Everything is up to Emiliano now."

“That can't happen,” I whispered.

“I'm sorry.” I watched the doctor leave the room after his revelation.

Emiliano might never wake up.

It was just a shot to the stomach. The doctor even said his body was healing properly, so why was he still in a coma?

“I knew you were simply a wimp... you can't even fight for your life, so why jump in front of a bullet?” I snapped.

“What is the use of that hard exterior you always flaunt now?” I glared at his unconscious body before turning away from him.

“I should put a bullet into your head now, shouldn't I?” I said before my eyes met the monitor connected to him.

“I could pull the wires out of you, nobody will question me,” I smiled bitterly.

“You were never really anybody… just another guard dog dead... no one would flinch,” I scoffed.

But I didn't go through with it.

I left... my heart feeling strangely heavy.

(One week before the wedding)

A week later, Papa called me into his office.

“Sit down, Giuliana,” he ordered.

Something was wrong.

My heart pounded.

“What is it?" I said immediately I walked into his office. "I was busy when you called,” I asked, sitting down.

“Too busy for your papa?” His words were meant to be light-hearted, but his expression remained stoic.

“No, papa.”

“Emiliano will never wake up, he's gone,” he said, his eyes boring into mine. He tried to weigh my reaction, but I practiced closing off all emotions to show him I gave no sh*t about Emiliano’s condition.

“I've found you a new suitor,” he finished.

“Papa…” I said softly, not wanting to argue with him but still confused about why he was so adamant about marrying me off.

“He's nothing like Emiliano. He's everything you might have dreamed of… a man you have a loving past with,” he assured me. I stared at him, wondering who it was this time.

I had never been allowed to have a relationship with any man since I turned a ripe age, so I was confused by who the man papa claimed I had a ‘lovely past’ with.

"Emiliano isn't even dead yet... why are you doing this?" My voice sounded tired.

"I just want the best for you."

Papa slipped a file towards me. “There in that file is all the information you need to know about your future husband."

I opened the file to see a man who I recognized the moment my eyes landed on his picture.

Vincenzo Rossi.

A distant cousin I thought had died years ago.

“He never died. The Rossi's never escaped during the Russian war in Mexico then. But Vincenzo was part of the few survivors. He served as a prisoner to the Russian for five years before he escaped with two other Italian men.”

Oh.

“But he's—he's family. Is that even legal?"

“He was never family. He's Emiliano's half-brother.”

“What?—How?" I immediately jumped off my seat. Papa was pushing the line.

First it was Emiliano, who I had never even met before he introduced us. Now it was his half-brother.

"You can't keep doing this, papa... this is my life!" I cried.

“Do I have to remind you why you should not defy me?” he asked without looking at me. I immediately shut my mouth.

“He's Emiliano's half-brother, so that means you're still getting married to Giovanni's family.”

“Why are they so important?” I gritted out.

“They are the only ones who know how to get to your mum's murderer.”

I swear my heart stopped.

Papa wouldn't lie about such a thing. It wasn't in his nature.

If this was what it took to seek justice for mama, I was ready to run to the altar.

I stood up from my seat, promising to go through my new fiancé's profile.

Just as I closed the door to his study, I heard Papa talk to someone on his phone.

I turned to leave, but then I heard something that made my body go stiff.

“You know, my Giuliana was born stillborn... no one thought she would survive and talk more of living this long,” papa told the other person on the line. “She must not know about her past.”

No one had ever revealed this to me. Not even Mama, and now I get to find out that I'm standing right here on a pure miracle or was it something else?

I turned back to go confront Papa, but then I stopped abruptly. Donatello Morano would never reveal a secret he wasn't ready for. It would be no use confronting him about it.

What happened in the past?

(The wedding day)

The wedding arrived faster than I could realize the breaking of the day.

Emiliano was still lying almost lifeless in the clinic.

I stood at the altar in the most elegant dress I had ever seen, its bodice grabbing me in all the right places, my curves looking more luscious than ever.

I looked like the typical rich mafia princess.

“You look breathtaking,” Vincenzo whispered in my ear as I stood beside him, his breath tickling the hairs on my neck.

We had hung out a few times before now, and our interaction with each other was very seamless.

But still, I couldn't help the feeling that there was something missing.

With Emiliano, it was like walking on fire. Every collision with him there was a spark of electricity surging through me, whether it was due to pure anger or something fiercer.

But with Vincenzo, it was just like the calm of a sea. A stagnant sea. There was merely nothing to look forward to.

“Thank you,” I smiled back at him, noticing how he looked even more handsome in the gray suit.

“You should back out of this wedding now,” I started to say. “I'll never give myself fully to you.”

“I'm not your enemy here. If you're still thinking about Emiliano, he's dead... he's never going to be the one to put a ring on your finger,” he turned his head to the podium. “I'm the best you can get.”

He had guts, alright.

The priest recited our vows and asked us to pledge them to each other.

Emiliano—I mean Vincenzo took my hand, “I, Vincenzo Rossi, take you as my wife, to love and to protect you, until I die,” he said, a bright smile plastered on his face.

It was all fake, I could tell.

I hesitated for what felt like hours before I responded back. “I, Giuliana Morano, take you as my husband to love and respect you, until I die,” I said, trying to match the smile on his face.

I wanted to run. But outside the church, there were guards heavily armed with guns.

The priest looked down at us, a small smile on his face, before looking back up.

“If there's anyone who objects to this union, he/she may speak or forever hold their peace,” the priest spoke into the mic.

The silence in the church stretched for minutes, everybody stuck to their seats.

The priest cleared his throat, ready to move on.

“I hereby pronounce you—” a loud bang interrupted him, the whole guest erupting into loud gasps.

And there he was, standing bloodied, a gun wrapped limply to his side and his other hand pressed to his chest.

He looked like a devil who had just risen from the dead, ready to snatch every beating heart in the room.

“No,” Emiliano's raspy voice rang out, distressed and in pain.

Everyone stood frozen, staring at the man who was supposed to be unconscious or even dead.

“What the hell are you doing?” Papa's voice thundered, echoing around the four corners of the church.

Emiliano staggered forward, his eyes locked on me, burning with an intensity that made my heart race. “You can’t marry him,” he gasped, blood seeping through his fingers as he clutched his wound. “Giuliana… not him.”

The crowd erupted into whispers, and Vincenzo’s grip on my hand tightened, his calm facade cracking. “You’re supposed to be dead,” he snarled, stepping toward his half-brother.

Emiliano’s gaze shifted to Papa, his voice low but firm. “Donatello, you know why this wedding can’t happen. Tell her… or I will.”

Papa’s face paled, his eyes darting between Emiliano and me. The church fell silent, the weight of Emiliano’s words hanging heavy. For the first time, I saw something in Papa’s expression I’d never seen before—fear. He raised a hand, signaling the guards to stand down, and took a step forward.

“Enough,” Papa said, his voice strained, trying to regain control. “Emiliano… you’re alive. That changes things.” He glanced at Vincenzo, then back at me, his tone softening. “Perhaps… we should reconsider. Emiliano was your intended, after all.”

The words hit me like a slap. Reconsider? Just like that, he was ready to pass me back to Emiliano, as if I were a piece of property to be traded. My blood boiled. I was done being a pawn in their games, tossed between men like a commodity. Vincenzo’s hand fell from mine, his face unreadable, while Emiliano’s eyes pleaded with me, but I barely saw them.

“No!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. Every eye turned to me as I reached beneath the folds of my dress, pulling out a small pistol I’d hidden there for protection. Gasps echoed through the church as I raised it, not to Emiliano, not to Vincenzo, not to Papa—but to my own temple.

“Giuliana!” Papa’s voice cracked, his composure shattering.

“If you give my hand to Emiliano,” I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hand, “I’ll blow my brains out right here. I’m not your puppet anymore, Papa. I won’t marry him, or Vincenzo, or anyone you choose. This ends now.”

The church was deathly silent, the weight of my threat sinking in. Papa’s eyes widened, his hands raised as if to calm me, but I saw the panic beneath his facade. Vincenzo froze, his bravado gone, while Emiliano’s face twisted with something like anguish.

“Giuliana, ” Emiliano growled, his voice stronger than steel. “You don’t understand… there’s more to this. Your father—”

“Put the gun down, Giuliana,” Papa said, interrupting Emiliano, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “We’ll talk. No one’s forcing you to do anything.”

But I didn’t lower the gun. Not yet. My eyes locked on his, searching for the truth he’d buried.