After 18 Wedding Escapes, I Married the Mafia King Chapter 02
The reply came almost immediately.
[Parking. Be there in three.]
I sat quietly in my chair and waited.
During those three minutes, I saw a new post Juliana had just uploaded.
In the photo, she was sitting in Stefano’s passenger seat, holding his ID card in her hand.
The caption read: [Someone’s hours away from saying ‘I do,’ and he still drop everything when I call.]
The comments below were already piling up.
[Juliana, you totally won.]
[That’s some next-level favoritism.]
I stared at the post for a long time.
If this had happened before, I probably would have taken a screenshot and sent it to Stefano.
Then I would’ve gone off on him hysterically, demanding, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What exactly am I to you?”
And he would have replied with the same impatient response as always.
“Lillian, are you really that desperate to get married?”
“Can’t you just leave Juliana alone?”
But now, I just hit Like.
The glass doors of the marriage registration office swung open.
Riccardo walked in.
He wore a black suit, his sharp features composed and unreadable. In his hand was his ID card.
He stopped in front of me and spoke calmly, “Sorry. Traffic was bad.”
I handed over my ID calmly.
“It’s fine.”
Riccardo passed all the paperwork to the staff.
As it was processed, my thoughts drifted.
I’d waited seven years for Stefano. I’d waited for him at the City Hall eighteen times.
And the whole thing only took three minutes.
Stefano had never been able to spare me even that.
It only took me three minutes to walk away from him for good.
When it was time for the photo, the clerk reminded me to smile.
Looking into the camera, I actually felt the corners of my mouth curl up.
After eighteen attempts, I finally didn’t have to wait anymore.
—
That evening, my best friend Raven dragged me out for drinks.
“It’s your first day as a married woman. We have to celebrate.”
The lighting inside the bar was dim.
I was barely halfway through my drink when a familiar burst of laughter drifted over from the booth next to us.
Stefano was sitting in the center.
The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and his posture was relaxed.
Juliana sat beside him in a pale pink slip dress, leaning against his arm.
Someone raised a glass and called out with a grin.
“Come on, Donna, have a drink.”
Juliana blushed and waved her hands.
“Stop calling me that. Lillian would be upset if she heard.”
The man laughed even harder.
“When has she ever not been upset?”
“Stefano’s left her so many times, and she still keeps waiting.”
The entire table burst into laughter.
My hand tightened slightly around my glass.
Someone turned the conversation toward Stefano.
“Seriously, Stefano, you’ve been with Lillian for seven years, right?”
“I heard you ditched her at the City Hall again today.”
“That makes eighteen times now. When are you gonna make her your wife?”
Stefano swirled his drink. There wasn’t a trace of guilt on his face.
“What’s the rush?”
“Once you’re married, things get messy.”
Someone shot back. “What gets messy?”
“Like, it’s harder to keep playing hero for Juliana?”
Stefano didn’t deny it.
He turned and glanced at Juliana.
Juliana lowered her head, the tips of her ears turning red.
Stefano smiled faintly. “Juliana is timid, and her health isn’t great.”
“I don’t feel right leaving her on her own.”
I found myself thinking back to that afternoon.
Juliana had been standing outside the office, clutching her stomach, her eyes brimming with tears.
The moment she called his name, his expression had changed.
He’d rushed to support her and take her away.
It had been the same when my grandmother was dying.
One tearful phone call from Juliana, and he’d pried my fingers off his sleeve.
Out of nowhere, someone asked, “What about Lillian?”
“Aren’t you scared she might actually leave you for good?”
Stefano let out a mocking laugh, as though he’d just heard a joke.
“Lillian won’t.”
“We’ve been together too long. She can’t let go of me.”
His certainty was almost cruel.
“She’s been with me since college. Had two abortions for me.”
“Who else is gonna want her after all that?”
“How many times have we broken up over the last seven years?”
“She always comes crawling back in the end.”
