The Mafia Boss Rejected Every Bride—Until His Assistant Accidentally Wore The Wedding Dress

Trapped in the penthouse while Dante mobilized his soldiers, Nadia sought refuge in the sprawling, two-story library. She desperately needed to understand the legacy she had been forced to inherit.

She climbed the rolling ladder, searching the dusty top shelves for anything related to the founding matriarch, Isabella Leone.

She found a small, leather-bound journal tucked behind a row of heavy encyclopedias.

Nadia sat on the floor, gently opening the fragile, yellowed pages. It was Isabella’s personal diary, detailing the violent, bloody rise of the Leone empire in the 1920s. But it was the final entries that made Nadia’s blood run cold.

“They believe my bloodline ends with my eldest son,” Isabella had written. “But I have hidden my youngest daughter. She refused this life of violence. I gave her away to a baker in the outer boroughs to keep her safe. Her name is erased from the family tree, but she carries my blood. She carries the true claim to the silk.”

Nadia turned the page. Tucked inside was a faded, black-and-white photograph of the hidden daughter.

Nadia dropped the journal.

The woman in the photograph had the exact same almond-shaped eyes, the exact same sharp jawline, and the exact same dark, curling hair that Nadia saw in the mirror every morning.

She scrambled to her feet, her mind racing back to the stories her grandmother used to tell her about growing up above a bakery in Brooklyn. Her grandmother, who had always warned her to stay away from the men in expensive suits.