Marrying The Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Mafia Brother

Eloise's POV

The City Hall clerk's office.

It was a stark contrast to the gilded ballroom I had just left, but the air in here felt cleaner.

Less suffocating.

Alphonse stood beside me, his heavy, steady hand signing the marriage certificate.

He slashed his name in black ink-a sharp, jagged signature that looked less like letters and more like a scar.

"Sign," he said, sliding the paper toward me.

I picked up the pen. My hand hovered over the paper for a split second.

This wasn't a fairy tale. It was a corporate merger. A hostile takeover. I was handing my freedom over to a man rumored to have cut out a capo's tongue just for interrupting him at the dinner table.

But the alternative was being Holden's pathetic ex-fiancée. The girl who wasn't sick enough to make him stay.

I signed. Eloise Bowers.

The clerk stamped the document with a heavy thud.

"Done," Alphonse stated.

He didn't smile, and he didn't kiss me.

He took the certificate, folded it, and tucked it into the inner pocket of his coat, right next to where I knew he kept his gun. "You are under my protection now. Go to my estate; my guards will pack your things."

"I need to go home first," I said. "I need to face him when he gets back."

Alphonse glanced at me. For a fleeting second, I caught a glint in his abyssal eyes.

Was it approval? Or just dark amusement at watching a bug try to fight a hurricane?

"One hour," he said. "If you don't walk out, I'm coming in. And if I come in, I'm burning the house down."

I took an Uber back to the estate I shared with Holden.

It was a sprawling mansion in Lake Forest, paid for with Woodward blood money.

I was packing my jewelry into a velvet box when the front door banged open.

"Eloise!"

Holden.

He stormed into the bedroom, his tie loosened and his hair disheveled. He looked panicked, bordering on frantic.

He reeked of harsh hospital antiseptics.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, pacing the room. "I called you ten times. Jaidyn... thank God, it was a false alarm. Just severe stress. Her heart is fragile, El. You know that."

I didn't look up, my eyes fixed on my jewelry box as I snapped the lid shut.

"I'm glad she's okay," I said. My voice was completely flat, utterly lifeless.

"Why are you packing?" he stopped in his tracks, staring at the suitcase on the bed.

Suddenly, a high, strained laugh escaped his throat. "You're overreacting. It was an emergency. I couldn't just watch her die on the floor. You're being jealous."

He actually looked a little smug.

"Jealousy implies I want what someone else has," I said, turning to face him. "I don't want you anymore, Holden. Not even a little bit."

He flinched. "You're angry, I get it. We'll reschedule the wedding. Next month, once Jaidyn's condition stabilizes."

"There is no wedding next month," I said. "I'm already married."

Holden froze. He went as pale as a wax figure.

"What?"

"I fixed your mistake for you," I said, walking past him toward the door. "I secured the alliance. I married the Don."

Holden grabbed my arm. His grip was harsh, bruising. It was the first time he had ever touched me in anger.

"You're lying," he hissed. "Alphonse wouldn't do that. He knows you're mine."

"I was never yours," I said, looking pointedly down at his hand on my arm until he let go, stung by my icy demeanor. "I was your responsibility. And you failed me."

"You're just doing this to hurt me!" he yelled, following me into the hallway. "This joke needs to stop!"

"I did this to survive," I said. I pulled the front door open.

Outside, a line of black SUVs idled in the driveway. Alphonse was leaning against the hood of the lead car, smoking a cigarette.

Holden saw him and stopped dead in the doorway.

"He's my brother," Holden whispered, his voice trembling with real fear.

"He's your boss," I corrected.

I walked down the steps. The night air was biting, but as I approached Alphonse, I felt a strange, radiating heat. He tossed his cigarette onto the pavement and crushed it under his boot.

He opened the car door for me.

"Did he touch you?" Alphonse asked. He wasn't looking at me; his eyes were fixed on Holden cowering in the doorway.

"No," I lied.

I didn't want to see blood on my wedding night. At least, not yet.

Alphonse nodded. "Get in."

I slid onto the leather seat. As the car pulled away, I watched Holden in the rearview mirror. He looked so small, so utterly insignificant.

But right before we turned the corner, I caught the look in his eyes. It wasn't just heartbreak.

It was sheer, unadulterated madness.