Mafia Princess Reclaimed Her Throne at Her Wedding

My boyfriend of five—Evan Callister, suddenly proposed to me.

Everyone flooded me with congratulations.

I felt happy too, quickly started planning our wedding.

Then I overheard him talking with his gang friends.

Apparently, I wasn’t his only option. Just one of five women he’d been seriously considering for marriage. A lineup that included his childhood sweetheart, a few of his long-time bed warmers, and some well-connected heiresses whose families could do wonders for his.

“I didn’t imagine that you actually gonna marry Liora at the end, I thought Viola’s still the one you love.”

And then Evan, “Liora’s father died. If I marry her, I could have all of her money and the casino. She cannot do a thing about it. She only has me as her family now.”

“And what if Viola hears about your wedding and freaks?” his friend teased.

Evan chuckled. “I told her that I will make Liora conveniently die after the wedding. Then her and I can get marry instead.”

My heart iced over. But I didn’t cry or confront or even blink.

Instead, I made the call to the man my father had always wanted me to marry — the one of noble status, the one everyone admired, the one I’d avoided. And just said one thing, “My wedding is three days from now. Come and elope with me.”

Liora’s POV

When I came to fetch my fiancé—soon-to-be husband, Evan—for a simple lunch, I didn’t expect to hear my world shatter.

From around the corner, I caught his voice, laughing with his friends. Laughing about me. About us. Mocking our relationship like it was some inside joke. And then he said it—how he’d never loved me. How he’d only seen me as a name on his list of potential wives.

I froze.

What scared me most wasn’t just Evan’s betrayal—it was how twisted he truly was. How he could be two completely different men. With me, he was soft. Gentle. The kind of man who brushed my hair behind my ear and kissed my knuckles like I was precious.

But with his friends? He was smug. Cruel. Like I was just another name on his list.

What kind of man thinks a woman like me could just be picked? Like I was one of many, and he was doing me a favor?

When I met Evan, he was a newcomer to New York’s mafia circle. Fresh blood. His father had just brought him in, and their family was still scraping by, dealing in low-level arms and dirty drugs.

But he had that smile. That posture—confident, but not cocky. Steady in a way that drew my attention.

In my world, the weak bow to the strong. Evan didn’t bow. He didn’t grovel.

And when he was with me, he didn’t treat me like I was fragile or something to conquer.

I used to think that was strength. Now I see it was arrogance.

Only a man drunk on his own ego would believe he could keep a dozen women on a shortlist and just choose who to marry like we were NPCs in his game.

But we weren’t. I wasn’t.

I was real. With real feelings.

No matter how angry I felt, how humiliated… this was on me. I made the choice to stay. I gambled on him.

Even on his deathbed, my father had tried to warn me. Told me Evan wasn’t the one. Tried to arrange someone else, someone powerful. But I’d refused. I told him, “I don’t care about influence or power. Evan will become someone one day. Just like you.”

That was the biggest mistake I ever made.

And then there was my second mistake. When Evan said he could help with my father’s casino, I trusted him.

What I didn’t see coming? The plan underneath it all—marry me, then kill me. The casino would be his, no strings attached.

Evan must be thrilled. In just three days, our wedding will make everything his.

I’m the only Bennett heiress. The sole heir to my father’s empire. And he really thought I’d settle for being another name on his list? Just a pawn in his game?

Sadness didn’t even stand a chance. Fury burned it out fast.

A plan was forming—bold, reckless, the kind you don’t even dare say out loud.

I was going to leave Evan. But not just leave.

I wanted him humiliated. Broken the same way he broke me.

If I was just a name on his little “wifey” list… then how would he feel knowing he was never even on mine?

I could already picture it—his smug face twisting the second it hit him.

I pulled out my phone quickly, jaw tight, fingers steady. “It’s me, Liora,” I said as the line connected.

A low chuckle drifted through the receiver. “I’ve been expecting your call.”

Tristan. The man my father once wanted me to marry. The son of a powerful ally, raised in the same dark world I was.

We’d known each other since we were kids—but we were never friends.

If it were up to me, nemesis would’ve been a better word for Tristan.

Still, I always knew—out of all the men in New York’s mafia circles, he was the only one who could match me. Maybe even outmatch me.

So just this once, I chose to trust my father’s judgment. And put my faith in the man I used to call my enemy.

My heart kicked just a little faster. “My wedding is in three days.”

He sounded amused. “You want me to come watch you play house with that soft little coward Evan?”

I ignored the teasing in his voice. “No. I want you to come… and elope with me.”

There was a pause.

“Elope?” he repeated, voice low now, serious. “You sure you know what that means, Liora?”

“Yes.”

“If I show up at that altar and take you away, there will be no second chances. You will marry me according to Mr. Bennett’s last wishes. Can you do that?”

His words sent my heart in a spiral.

“I know what it means,” I said, voice firm. “And it’s what I want. Come get me. Just make sure you show up on time.”

Then I hung up.

The shift inside me was almost dizzying—how fast I moved from heartbreak to strategy. But that’s what it meant to be raised in a family like mine.

In our world, betrayal wasn’t a shock. It was routine.

I just never expected to get one from Evan, the man I’d once chosen over everyone else.

He thought he could humiliate me, play me, and walk away untouched?

He was wrong.

Let him think I’d still walk down that aisle. Let him think he’d won.

I’d see him at the altar—just before I let it all burn.