Married At Gunpoint: The Mafia Boss Chose Me

Riley Collins's POV:

Once the driver stepped away, Jackson's entire demeanor shifted. He straightened his shoulders, eyes burning with superiority, as if he held my entire fate in his hands.

"Your sister's future depends on you," he said, cold and detached, as if reading me tomorrow's headlines. "If you ever want to see her alive, you'll do exactly as I say."

A shiver ran down my spine. My instincts screamed for me to run, but I stood my ground.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper but steady. "You've already taken everything. There's nothing left."

That twisted smirk crept across his face, poison lurking in the curve of his lips.

"I want you to dig up your marriage certificate with Luca. Hide it. Keep it out of sight. And you're bringing it to me— today."

"What? How am I supposed to get that past him? Luca keeps track of my every move. He hardly lets me breathe without his approval. And why do you even care about that document?"

A harsh laugh escaped him, echoing down the hall. Leaning in, his words came out in a low, biting whisper.

"Time keeps going and you never get any smarter, Riley." He stepped back and said, "Today is the official reading of my father's will. Want to hear the twist? The business gets handed to whichever child is legally married. But I was never really married to you, or to Luca. Neither of those weddings was ever recorded. That whole show was just a way for my father to tighten his grip on everyone. It doesn't count for anything." He brought his hand near my face, so I slapped it away, and the sharp sound caught the attention of the nurses in the hallway.

"Are you really looking for trouble, sweetheart?"

Right now, I'm Luca Black's wife, so don't lay a finger on me ever again.

"You never believe me when I call you clueless. You are not his wife. The judge is dead. Is that not obvious enough for you? Who's going to make any of this official?"

My eyes went wide.

So the wedding with Luca... My knees buckled. You want the documents to... call it all off?

He gave a smug nod.

"Bring me those papers before the will is read, and I'll be there with a new set. All you need to do is sign them the way you should have the first time. Marry me."

And what about Emma? Will you let me see her?

"Of course. Her surgery is scheduled for the end of the week, but that's only happening if you do what I ask."

I glanced around the room, barely able to breathe. I tried to wrap my head around how I had ended up stuck in a game I never agreed to play.

He made his way to the doorway, leaning on his cane as he went. After fixing his shirt collar, he paused and glanced back.

"I'll take care of the witnesses. All I'm asking is that you try doing as you're told for once."

With that, he vanished down the hallway.

Left alone, I tried to steady my breath. Each word he threw at me felt like sparks on dry tinder, my nerves threatening to ignite. My chest tightened so hard it hurt to think. My sister... please, Emma.

Breathe, I reminded myself.

Soon after, the driver came back. This time, he wasn't alone. An older man walked beside him, dressed in a white lab coat, his face lined with exhaustion but sharp with purpose. The driver made quick work of introductions.

"This is Dr. Reinald Amaral, our clinical director."

He reached out to shake my hand. "Mrs. Collins Black, is that correct?" I nodded, my grip uncertain. He continued, "Mr. Black insisted I speak with you in person to clear up any confusion."

Was it possible Jackson arranged all this so quickly? Or had he set it in motion long before?

"Where's my sister?" I demanded. "Emma Collins. She's eighteen. She was brought in after a car accident. I called yesterday— her condition got worse..."

He knit his brows and checked the tablet he was holding.

"Ma'am, your sister's file was closed eleven months ago. Her discharge was confirmed, the paperwork signed. Everything here checks out."

"Discharged? That can't be right. She was still in a coma. I talked to someone yesterday."

"Can you tell me who spoke with you? Give me the attendant's name and I'll look into it right away." I could only shake my head.

"I was terrified and I didn't ask. I can't wrap my head around this."

"It's possible she was moved to another facility. I can help you search for a transfer. But I'm certain she isn't here anymore."

The floor felt like it slid out from under me.

"Then where is she?"

He let out a slow breath and reached into his coat. After pulling out a business card, he placed it in my hand.

"Because Mr. Black requested it, I'll take this case myself. If I uncover anything, you will hear from me."

My fingers trembled as I accepted the card. He gave me a steady nod before turning down the hall. The driver lingered nearby, watching me with a quiet sympathy, almost soft.

"He'll look into it. You don't have to worry."

"What's the use in all this? He answers to Jackson. Unless that snake gives him the signal, I'll never get a straight answer."

"Ah! Reinald? He's good friends with Mr. Luca. He'll do what you ask. Trust me, you're the one who holds sway here—I made that very clear to him. If you need him to walk through fire, he'll do it."

"Mr. De Luca?"

"Yes, ma'am." He led me toward the parking lot, eyes scanning our surroundings.

If the driver was telling the truth, Jackson's grip on the situation was slipping. Maybe his stories about Emma were nothing but tricks. What if I was putting my trust in the wrong man?

"Let's get going, Mrs. Riley," he said, holding the car door open.

I kept my thoughts to myself as I slipped into the seat.

Not a word passed between us on the drive back, but the silence felt heavier than any threat Jackson ever threw my way. One thing rang through my mind, relentless as a warning bell.

You could lose everything— even Emma.

This was no time to act blindly. Every move had to be calculated. Weighing my options, I realized Luca still felt safer than Jackson. Luca hated lies, and Jackson spun them like webs.

Stepping into Luca's home again, I found him waiting in the living room. His gaze ran over me, then settled on the stack of papers he held in his hands.

He glanced up from his stack of papers. "So, how did things go over there?"

My answer was silence. She was gone. Just vanished—no warning, no explanation.

"Are you actually telling the truth? Is there a sister at all, or was that just a ploy to squeeze out more money?"

"Honestly, I'm running on fumes, 'boss.' If you still have to ask that, maybe you never really knew me in the first place."

"Suit yourself. But make sure you're ready by three this afternoon. They've already set out something for you to wear. We're going out."

While I skimmed the documents, he broke off to speak to another man in the room, the guy never uncrossing his arms or looking away.

"These are your marriage papers. I'll leave them in the office. You know the drill."

"Understood, boss." Now I knew exactly where to find them. The question was whether I even wanted to touch them— let alone hand anything over to Jackson.