After 18 Wedding Escapes, I Married the Mafia King Chapter 09
Later, I heard that things hadn’t ended well for Juliana either.
After Stefano’s wedding disaster, she became the laughingstock of the entire social circle.
Everyone knew that after spending seven years trying to steal someone else’s place, all she’d managed to win was a wedding without a groom.
Then her old posts got dredged up. Screenshots spread everywhere.
The same people who had once praised and flattered her suddenly turned on her.
They called her a homewrecker. They called her shameless.
They said she deserved everything that happened.
Her company even fired her, citing damage to their image.
She went looking for Stefano. But she couldn’t even get through the gates of the Greco estate.
Raven later told me that someone had seen Juliana stopping Stefano’s car outside Greco Tower.
She stood in the rain, pounding on the window.
“Stefano, you’re all I have left.”
Stefano remained seated inside. He didn’t even lower the window.
The driver glanced into the rearview mirror.
“Don Greco, should I stop?”
Stefano looked at the woman crying outside. His expression was ice-cold. “No.”
The car drove away.
Juliana stumbled into the rain.
She chased after it for several steps before collapsing on the curb.
After that day, she disappeared for a long time.
She was ended up working at a small company.
She used to love white dresses and playing the role of the sweet, innocent woman. Now her days looked very different.
Clients constantly complained about her, and her coworkers wanted nothing to do with her.
Some people made a point of calling her “homewrecker” to her face.
Her face would went pale. But no one felt sorry for her anymore.
As for Stefano, things weren’t much better.
One Greco family project after another ran into trouble.
He had once been on the verge of taking over the company.
But after the wedding scandal and a series of major missteps, the advisory board pushed him out of
the inner circle.
The Don Greco everyone used to celebrate was eventually shipped off to some struggling subsidiary at the edge of nowhere.
Every day, he went to work on time.
Every day, he left on time.
And almost every evening, he drove to the City Hall.
He would sit in his car and watch couples walk inside together and emerge as husband and wife.
One day, a staff member recognized him.
“Sir, are you waiting for someone?”
Stefano stared at the entrance for a long time.
Finally, he answered in a hoarse voice.
“Someone who’s never coming back.”
That night, after getting drunk, he called me countless times.
But I’d blocked that number long ago.
When I never picked up, he started sending one email after another to an old account.
I never finished reading any of them.
I just had my assistant delete the account.
Six months later, Riccardo and I traveled overseas for our honeymoon.
We stayed in a small coastal town.
Every morning, I’d open the window to an endless stretch of blue.
Riccardo would walk beside me along the cobblestone streets.
When I’d stop to admire a little flower by the road, he’d just wait.
I used to think love had to be something big. Something earth-shattering.
But now I knew. Being truly cherished was about the little things.
It meant having someone carry every small detail of your life in their heart.
The day we returned home, Riccardo took me to visit my grandmother’s grave.
He wore a black suit and carried himself with the solemnity of a man attending an important
ceremony.
A fresh bouquet of lisianthus rested before the headstone.
Holding my hand, he spoke softly, “Grandma. I’m Riccardo.”
“Lillian and I are legally married now. We’ve had our wedding.”
“I’ll take care of her from now on.”
Standing beside him, I felt my eyes instantly fill with tears.
A breeze swept through the cemetery.
In the photograph on the headstone, Grandma’s smile looked gentle and peaceful.
As if she had finally put her worries to rest.
At that moment, the seven years I’d spent with Stefano felt like a very long nightmare.
And now, at last, I had woken up.
Sunlight was streaming in.
I was no longer the Lillian who waited day and night.
Not the Lillian who kept forgiving him every time he threw her a crumb.
I was Riccardo’s wife now. Properly married. Openly. Proudly.
And I was also a Lillian who had finally learned how to love herself.
Sometime later, I saw Stefano again at a formal gala.
He stood at the edge of the crowd, thin and gaunt-a shadow of his former self.
When he saw Riccardo and me arrive together, he instinctively took a step forward.
But Riccardo lowered his head and adjusted the shawl draped over my shoulders.
I looked up and smiled at him.
And at that moment, Stefano stopped.
Perhaps he finally understood.
Some people, once you lost them, you could never get them back.
When the gala ended, a light rain had begun to fall outside.
Riccardo opened an umbrella and drew me gently into his arms.
As we stepped down the stairs, I heard Stefano’s hoarse voice behind me. “Lillian!”
I didn’t turn around.
Neither did Riccardo urge me forward. He simply held my hand.
I smiled. “Let’s go.”
Behind us, Stefano never spoke again.
Rain tapped softly against the umbrella.
Side by side, Riccardo and I walked into the night.
Ahead of us, the city lights glowed warm and bright.
All the waiting, the shame, the heartbreak I left it all behind. Right where it belonged.
I never had to look back again.
