

The night before our 17th wedding attempt, my mafia husband, Rafaeal Holloway, looks at me and promises an uninterrupted wedding. He solemnly swears. "Gianna, I promise you. I told Natalia that even if the sky falls, she'll deal with it alone." I am five months pregnant by then. After three years of dating and five months carrying his child, we've never managed to make it down the aisle because he's canceled the past 16 weddings. Every single time, it's for his sworn sister, Natalia Sullivan. The first time, she claims she has a fever. I spend the whole night at the hospital, still in my wedding dress, just to find out she has a mild cold. The second time, she claims her chest hurts. Rafael abandons me mid-wedding and rushes to her side, while she's out laughing over afternoon tea with friends. The third time, she cries for fear of thunder. He bolts mid-vows and leaves me alone in a hall full of staring guests. But everything's different now. Three days ago, a letter arrived from Northern Silenzio. My father, the Don of the Rossetti family, has finally summoned me home. If Rafael walks away for Natalia one more time, I'll leave for good.

Gianna was born into one of the two most powerful mafia families in the North and South. She fell in love with Rafael, the heir to the Southern family, and became pregnant, only for him to cancel their wedding 17 times for his adopted sister, Natalia. Heartbroken, Gianna pretended to terminate her pregnancy, using the opportunity to leave the South and return to the Rosty family in the North.Armed with the business and underworld intelligence she had gathered during her years in the South, Gianna launched a fierce counterattack, crippling Rafael’s family empire and eventually becoming the head of the Northern mafia. She secretly kept her child and raised him alone. Years later, her son Luca grew into a bright and fearless young man.Rafael and Natalia eventually turned against each other and fell from power, while Gianna and Luca left the past behind and began a new life.

The air in the Parisian haute couture salon smelled like money and fear. I’d waited six months for my wedding dress. Now, it was draped over the shoulders of Sofia Ross—the trending influencer, and my mafia fiancé Vincent Cassio’s god-sister. The salon manager was sweating bullets, his eyes darting between me and the man lounging on the velvet sofa. Vincent Cassio stood up. He adjusted a fold of the diamond-encrusted train on Sofia with a casual flick of his wrist. “Her premiere next week needs a statement piece. She’s borrowing it. Pick something off the rack and stop making a scene.” His tone was flat, final. Under the crystal chandeliers, Sofia admired herself in the full-length mirror, a triumphant smile on her lips. I looked at my reflection in the same mirror, wearing jeans and a soaked trench coat. I looked like a lost tourist. Suddenly, the entire past year of planning felt like a sick joke. I didn’t yell. I just felt cold. Numb. I slipped the five-carat engagement ring off my finger. It hit the glass coffee table with a sharp, final click. “You’re right, Vincent. I don’t need this wedding dress. This wedding… I don’t need it either.”

My best friend and I married into the same ultra-wealthy family. I married the genius doctor older brother, she married the cold and proud CEO younger brother. On the day of our wedding, Julian Long did not show up. He had gone to help his long-lost love find her missing dog. My grandmother was so upset she had a heart attack. I begged him to come back and save her. He said angrily, “Are you insane, Molly Shane? How could you lie using your only family’s life to drag me back? Sunny’s dog went missing, and I’m helping her look for it. We can have our wedding some other day.” That day, he found her dog, but I lost my grandmother forever. I cried until I passed out. When I woke up, I turned to my bestie. “Evie, I’m getting a divorce. What about you?” My bestie hugged me and wept. “I’m getting a divorce too!” The brothers’ eyes went red with tears when they received the divorce papers.

In my last life, my sister Serena Vega ran to Monaco the night before her wedding, and my family shoved me into her dress before dawn. Damian Lucchese, the young Godfather of New York, had been waiting at the altar for her. The moment he lifted my veil and saw me instead, the warmth in his eyes went cold. For five years, I was his hidden wife. The underworld knew he was married, but no one knew to whom. My parents blamed me for stealing Serena’s place and still failing to keep his heart. Then Serena came home. That Christmas, Damian took her and my parents to his mountain estate. When a blizzard hit, his men rushed everyone onto the helicopter. No one remembered me. I died in that frozen house, three months pregnant with Damian’s child. When I opened my eyes again, Serena had just returned to New York. This time, I would not beg for love. Only when I truly walked away, none of them had the right to regret it.

To fund her mother's grave, Selena decided on a flash marriage, inadvertently marrying James Monroe, who was also in a rush and suffered from pollen allergy. They agreed to divorce in two years. As the term neared, Selena interned at James's company, and after an unexpectedly intimate encounter, they realized their mutual affection. Upon discovering her pregnancy, Selena found out her boss was her husband. James, realizing she was his wife, pursued her passionately. At their wedding, Selena marveled at the transformation from boss to husband.