Mafia's Regret-Ruin His Wrong Bride

Chapter three

Andrew.

I bring my new wife out to the waiting armored car accompanied by four bodyguards: two walking in front of us, and two walking behind us. The one request that Serena had made, however, that I did not grant her was for a limousine.

It is more vital to stay safe than it is to indulge in girly fantasies. Does it bother Sabrina that the vehicle that we are taking to the reception is not a limo but rather my Mercedes SUV?

She is not speaking as she is staring blankly out the windows, and I am unable to decipher what she is considering based on the expression on her face.

"How are you doing right now?" The way Sabrina grimaced in pain as she attempted to shrug is something that will stay with me forever.

During the entirety of the ceremony, she displayed fleeting flashes of pain, but she immediately covered up her responses.

She tilts her head to the side and fixes her hazel eyes on mine. She asks, with a tone that betrays her bewilderment, "About the wedding?"

"Beginning with what your father did to you in the beginning."

"Oh, yes, that." It appears that she is startled that I remember.

I don't bring up the fact that the crimson mark on her cheek is starting to turn into a bruise just yet. It is highly unlikely that I will forget. "You are correct."

It hurts, but my ribs aren't shattered; they only have some bruises.

Her ribcage? F#ck. What kind of injuries did he inflict against her?

"And how exactly do you know this?" My resentment for her father, who was formerly my consigliere, stays in the vault.

She does not require it at this time, and we need to go through the wedding reception as quickly as possible.

"Because I've had both in the past, and I'm able to distinguish between the two."

"Is this the first time he's ever hurt you, or has he done it before?" The liar and abuser of children, who pretends to meet the standards that my father and I have established while in reality abusing children to their detriment.

"Not even remotely close."

It is easy to understand why Diego placed such a high priority on shielding his family from the public eye.

He constantly gave the excuse that it was for their safety, claiming that he didn't want them to be a target due to the role he played in the mafia.

If my consigliere is able to keep this information hidden from me, then we need to take a deeper look at the way in which my married capos treat their families.

When we go to the hotel, a medical professional will be waiting for us there to do a complete physical assessment on you.

That is not required in any way. It would appear that she has the erroneous belief that the choice is entirely up to her.

"I do not share your opinion."

She says it with an air of embarrassment, "I don't want to take my dress off and have to get back into it for the receiving line," but she really means it. "At the moment, the bodice is functioning similarly to a compression bandage for my ribs," the speaker said.

I tell her, "Wrapping your ribs is not the best thing for them," and they agree with me. It is possible for it to result in complications such as pneumonia or a collapsed lung.

"In the grand scheme of things, you are correct. However, in order for me to make it through the rest of today, I am willing to take the risk. I'm going to do some exercises that need me to take deep breaths as soon as it's over and I can finally take my dress off."

Despite the fact that I'm inclined to bring her home with me right now, I can't. Because there was already enough of drama at the wedding due to the switch in brides, a well-orchestrated celebration is more important than ever before. It is not just about myself and my pride in this situation; it is also about the resilience and consistency of the Genovese family.

Chigaco Visca, if you will. The Oscar organization is only as powerful as its leaders. And I am the most powerful member of that hierarchy.The number of visitors who will be permitted to enter the reception area is restricted due to space constraints. Despite the fact that it was certainly long enough to make things challenging for her. To put it another way, "Is there anything that we can do to make it easier for you?"

"Yes," she responds, which catches me off guard. "It would be helpful if you could provide me with something to stand on so that I can take my shoes off." The sizes that my sister and I wear are not the same. Because no one will be able to see what's underneath my dress, I promise that I won't make you feel uncomfortable.

"I am not someone who is easily embarrassed."

"Thank you for letting me know that." Her tone often contains humorous undertones.

This demonstration of her character appeals to me.

I give her a stern warning, "You'll have to keep on wearing your shoes for the rest of the reception," and she complies.

"So that's what you believe," she said. While we are seated at the head table, I will take my shoes off, and no one will be the wiser.

The combination of her attitude and her smile makes me laugh rather than annoys me. "As long as you don't forget to put them back on before we leave the dais for our first dance," I'll let it slide.

It surprises me that her ribs hurt worse when she's wearing heels because they've already been injured.

"I like it when you c***k a smile." The shape of her lips changes in reaction to mine.

I will not respond. I'm not one of those people who smiles very often.

The SABRINA

In spite of the pain killers that Andrew insisted I take, by the time we reach the end of the required receiving line, my hip is on fire, and the sensation that I have in my ribs is that my bodice is lined with rocks rather than silk.

Even though I am fatigued, I still have to make it through the entirety of the reception.

To our great relief, it will start with the lunch being served, and then the toasts will come after that. I am able to remain seated throughout both.

I really hope the makeup that his sister did for us before we came at the venue doesn't rub off. Andrew assured me that the scar on my face is fully concealed;

nevertheless, he warned that if I perspire and remove my makeup, the scar will become visible again. Regardless, I make it a point to avoid touching my face.

"Are you going to give my grandfather the opportunity to give a toast?" After carrying me to my seat for the second time, I inquire of Andrew.

Due to the fact that he is acting so attentively toward me rather than my sister, the guests are going to think that he was the one who came up with the plan to switch the bride and groom. Perhaps that is what he has in mind. If it is, it would be a good one to protect his honor and reputation as Don against the widespread talk that has been going on.

That clarifies why they kissed. He was composing a story at the time. One that gave the impression that he was cruel and even self-centered, but not that he had been abandoned by a runaway wife.

Getting married to me had nothing to do with the fact that he desired me to be his wife. Andrew made the most of a difficult circumstance by spotting an opportunity in the fact that I would be walking down the aisle in my sister's wedding gown. Even though I should have expected it, the fact that I am only a pawn in his game still feels terrible.

When I took off my veil, my father yelled, but the guests probably won't forget that moment. Perhaps they will believe that he was just as surprised to find out that it was actually me as they were. What kind of a tale are we going to concoct to justify the absence of my sister?

My head is swimming with so many questions that I almost don't hear Andrew respond to my inquiry since my thoughts are moving so quickly.

"Yes." The word is spoken in a rough and choppy manner.

In the mafia, outward appearances are more important than anything else, even though he isn't any thrilled about it than I am.

Despite the fact that the food is great, I only consume a small portion of the dinner. Even though my clothing is very constricting and I'm experiencing some nausea, I'm doing everything in my power to keep it a secret. There must have been some kind of opiate in the painkillers that Andrew supplied to me.

In addition to making me sick, they are making me loopy, which makes it easier to maintain the cheerful bride facade, but it also makes it tougher to disguise my anxiety.

Concern for Serena has reached an all-time high for me. Has my grandfather already dispatched individuals on a search for her? What are the repercussions of them locating her? Andrew has made a solemn vow to watch over and defend her, but what if he is unable to do so?

What if she finds herself in some sort of difficulty before one of the men can locate her? Let's be honest, she's been treated like a princess her whole life because our dad dotes on her more than any of his other daughters. Serena lacks the skills necessary to function in the adult world.

My inner anguish is only made worse when I think about the night that is still to come.

Will Andrew have the intention of completing the marriage?

Although the thought may send my ovaries into a tizzy, the rest of my body is not really enthusiastic about it. My amount of discomfort is simply going to get worse as the hours go by. I am familiar with this location.

What should I do in the event that my husband intends to make use of his marital rights?

I have never been physically touched in any sort of personal sense. It was the first kiss I had ever received, and it happened to be at the wedding. My entire life has been spent either being held captive by my father in our home or being sent away to a boarding school for only girls.

I've never even seen a naked man in person, let alone touched one with the intention of sexually gratifying him. I've never done either of those things. When that point in time arrives, how will I know what actions to take? It would break my heart to let Andrew down.

I can't compare to the beauty of my sister. She could probably just lay there, and he would become aroused by staring at her. That's how attractive she is.

What if he decides that he does not want me? What if I mistook something else for the look of yearning that I believed I saw at the church?

Andrew whispers to me, "You are not eating," which I hear as an observation. It is not necessary for us to provide our guests with any additional fodder for speculation.

"I'm going to try."

"Make an extra effort."

If we were by ourselves, I would throw him a look to let him know what I thought of his order, but there is one thing that he is absolutely correct about. It is not necessary for us to provide the people around us with any additional fodder for their rumour mill. Therefore, I choose to grin warmly at him in its place.

If it doesn't get to my eyeballs, there's nothing I can do about it.

I take a bite out of the nicely cooked pan-seared fish and chew it well before forcing myself to swallow it. Andrew went for the main dish that included meat, of course. It does not appear as though his new bride is affecting his appetite in any way.

However, he did not go through what I did right before the wedding and did not be hit or kicked around. If he did, I seriously doubt that he would let others see how fragile he is. And I'm not at liberty to show the guests any of mine either. I chew this morsel one more time.

I breathe a sigh of relief as my plate is finally removed from the table. I was able to consume around half of it via sheer force of will. However, I am unable to consume any more food without being sick.

When Tony offers the first toast, all I can do is make believe that I'm taking a sip of my champagne. When it comes to welcoming me into their family, he is not just funny but also shockingly warm. Even though, he laughs about it by making a joke about how his brother ultimately succeeds in getting what he wants.

Adding more evidence to support the narrative that makes Andrew appear to be the heartless don rather than the one who was misled. However, it's hard to fathom how anyone could think that he prefers me to my stunning sister in the first place.

Then comes my own father. His grin gives out an air of superiority, at least that's how it appears to me. He is under the impression that he was successful in getting away with what he did this morning. I suppose he is correct, but Andrew feels frustrated with him nevertheless. Regardless of how friendly their interactions seem to be right now, I have no doubt that he will confront my father at some point in the future.

Outward presentation.

The first thing the father says is, "You could have knocked me over with a feather when Andrew decided to marry my oldest daughter rather than my youngest daughter."

And I am aware that he is aware of the impression that Andrew has been making such an effort to present, and that he is making every effort to perpetuate that impression, most likely in an effort to win back his don's favor after that feeble attempt to fool him.

He goes on to say, "I am sure that it came as a shock to all of you as well," and I agree with him.

The company laughs because they believe my father to be charming. During the toast, I've decided to focus my gaze on Andrew rather than on my own father. At the very least, I will be able to fake a smile at that point. The price that I am willing to pay is to have the appearance of a lovesick calf. I am not going to participate in my father's theatrical performances.

And I've noticed that he's already taken two shots at me, even though I'm fairly certain that no one else has done so.

It shouldn't come as a surprise that Andrew doesn't grin very often. Because he is not the type of person to smile, the driver's grin while we were in the SUV had a much greater influence on me than I would have expected.

It's not because everything he does throws off both my physical and mental equilibrium.

Warning to oneself: if you are going to attempt to deceive yourself, at least try to do so in a way that seems plausible.

My father wraps off the conversation by saying, "Welcome to my family, Andrew," but he does not congratulate me or say another word to me.

I could care less. My father is not going to change, and I've long since passed the point at which I could ever hope for or expect him to.

My eyes wander across the room and eventually fall on my aunt and uncle who are sitting there. the santi Carol appears to be enjoying herself, judging on the smile she is currently sporting. Or, again, she may be acting as though she is pleased for the sake of maintaining the pretense.

However, Giovanni is not acting the part he is supposed to. He is giving my dad the evil eye.

Is he bothered by the indirect insults that my father directed at me during his toast? Or that I'm going to be the substitute bride who will be sacrificed? As opposed to the rest of the people, Giovanni is not going to let himself be duped into thinking that this is some type of improbable romantic pairing.

A rustling sound can be heard coming from the opposite side of Andrew. Mary, his mother, is seen standing nearby. But even though she wasn't supposed to, she went ahead and raised her glass anyhow. The visitors remain silent as they look forward to hearing what she has to say.

I would be content if I felt even a fraction as composed as she appears to be.

She flashes a grin in my direction. "My dear Sabrina, while some people may be astonished by the last-minute change of bride that my son has decided to make, I am not. These are the kinds of things a mother is aware of."

There is laughter once more, and this time my smile isn't forced or forcedless; it's genuine. Because her remarks are so kind, it is simple to respond to them in a warm and friendly manner. Even if she is lying so boldly that her fangs are showing. Is it a talent I ought to try to acquire? Could be.

"You and Andrew are such a perfect match, and I couldn't be happier to have you as a part of our family because of it." We appreciate your presence here today. It is my deepest desire that you and my son will have a marriage that is just as great and full of blessings as the one that I had with your son's father. I hope that everything works out for both of you. She takes a swallow of her champagne before continuing.

I put on the appearance of following suit, with my eyes lit up with thankfulness that I want her to see.

After then, the visitors continue to converse with one another while drinking champagne and other refreshments from the bar. In the background, gentle music starts playing, which is a clear indication that it's time to start dancing. Mary is now standing close to Andrew and me rather than returning to the seat she vacated earlier.

She knelt down and whispered, "We need to make some quick alterations to the skirt of your bride's gown, or else she's going to end up tripping more than she's going to be dancing."

Andrew gives a nod. I will walk in Mary's footsteps. She walks me out of the ballroom and down a side passage while taking careful steps to ensure that I do not trip over the bottom of my dress. I am happy that the leisurely pace eases the tension on my hip that was caused by the activity.

What are the chances that the don and his family will find out about my health condition? Will he feel as though he was tricked? It is difficult to think that he won't care, but it is pointless to worry about it now because it is too late. We've decided to stay married through thick and thin.