Three Divorces Later, The Mafia Princess Is Getting Married Again Chapter 01
The day before our wedding ceremony, Dario suddenly turned to me and said, “I want to announce our divorce at the ceremony tomorrow. You’ve already been divorced twice, so a third time shouldn’t scare you, right?”
I had been married and divorced twice before.
Before Dario and I started dating, I had explained the situation clearly.
“The first time was for my childhood friend, Leandro Voss,” I told him. “He was fighting for the head of his family and needed a capable wife to tip the scales in his favor.”
“The second time was for Silas Ferrante, the man who saved my life. He needed a wife with high social standing to get him out of an arranged marriage with another family.”
“I am Don Romano’s niece. A simple nod from me was all it took, I could help them. Once their crises passed, I divorced them to end our arrangement.”
With both of them, I had only ever had a simple Courthouse wedding. There was never a grand wedding ceremony witnessed by all our family friends.
“There was no love between us, only friendship,” I had added. “You are the only husband I truly chose for myself. If you care about my past, we can just…”
Dario had gripped my hands, his eyes bloodshot as he cut me off. “I believe you. I know I’m the only one you love. Never mention the past again. From now on, your eyes only need to be on me.”
So, we got legally married at City Hall. All that was left was to hold a mafia-style wedding ceremony at the grand estate, and we would be a couple fully recognized by the Families.
During that time, Dario was incredibly gentle and attentive to me, though he constantly clashed with my two ex-husbands.
I used to worry about how to balance the tension between them.
But the day before our wedding ceremony, I overheard him talking familiarly with my two ex-husbands in the living room.
“She’s long past caring about rejection,” Leandro’s voice drifted out. “She’s been dumped twice already.”
“You should reject her right at the wedding ceremony,” Silas added. “Make it even harsher than what we did.”
Dario chuckled. “And then I’ll just come back and comfort her later, say it was all a joke.”
“A three-time divorced woman,” Leandro scoffed. “No one in the mafia will ever want to marry her after that.”
Silas chimed in, “Marcella is getting married next week. We promised her when we were kids that we’d attend her bachelorette party as single men.”
I stood outside the door and heard every single word of their conversation.
So, when Dario walked up to me later with the divorce papers in hand, I signed my name without a second thought.
By the time Dario came looking for me again, I was already six months pregnant.
…
I sat in a café on Manhattan’s Upper East Side for an hour.
I didn’t go home until I was sure that Leandro and the others had left.
Dario set his phone down, greeting me with a warm smile. “Why didn’t you let me know you were back? I would have picked you up.”
He took my suitcase with one hand and slid his other arm around my waist. He was gentle and attentive, exactly as he always was. “How did the family meeting go?” he asked.
“Everything went smoothly.”
Dario nodded, then seemed to remember something. “By the way, honey, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
I set my things down and turned to face him.
Dario sighed, pulling out a document. “The Ravello Group’s logistics business ran into some trouble recently. We need to protect our assets. The lawyer suggested we get a divorce first, just to go through the motions.”
I looked down at the paper he held out—it was a divorce agreement.
In the mafia world, a woman with a record of failed marriages faced intense scrutiny. A divorced woman didn’t strengthen an alliance; she weakened it. No old family wanted a discarded wife sitting at the main table.
Yet, a mere hour after that conversation in the living room, Dario had already prepared the third divorce agreement of my life.
“Once the storm blows over, we’ll reapply for a marriage license,” Dario said, squeezing my hands with utmost sincerity. “It’ll only be a few months.”
I remained silent for a moment.
“I know this is sudden,” he murmured, his voice dropping as a hint of resentment slipped into his tone. “But Leandro and Silas called today. They said you didn’t hesitate for a second when they needed help, but when it’s my turn, you refuse to divorce.”
“They said you’re too afraid to get a third divorce. They claimed that since you’re the Don’s niece, you can’t handle the pressure.”
“I’ve got it all planned out. Tomorrow is our wedding. We’ll announce our divorce right then and there, in front of everyone. We’ll flash the papers in their faces and shock them. Let’s see if they ever dare look down on you again.”
“Once I grow more powerful, you’ll still be my wife. We can get married again, have another Courthouse wedding, another ceremony… no one will object.”
He looked at me, his gray-blue eyes sparkling with a mix of grievance and anticipation. “Honey, you wouldn’t really let them make me look bad, right?”
I stared into his eyes for a long time.
They looked like a lake shrouded in morning mist, filled with deep affection. Yet, just an hour ago, he had been clinking glasses with those two men, boasting, “She’ll definitely agree.”
I decided to give him exactly what he wanted.
“Fine,” I said.
A visible wave of relief washed over him, though he quickly masked it with surprise and delight. “Then you should get some rest. Tomorrow is the wedding ceremony, we need to be ready…”
I took the pen, flipped to the final page, and signed my name with a clean, swift stroke.
“We’ll get divorced tomorrow,” I said calmly.
Dario blinked, clearly caught off guard by how easily I had given in.
He smiled, carefully tucking the papers away, and leaned in to press a kiss to my cheek. “Honey, you’re more beautiful than ever.”
I turned my head to avoid his kiss, my heart as cold as stone.
He gathered the files and walked into the study to make a call. His voice wasn’t loud, but through the thin door, I could hear every word.
“She agreed to the divorce.”
Leandro’s faint voice echoed from the other end. “Told you so. Aurelia is a pushover.”
“Alright, you guys head over to Marcella’s party first,” Dario replied. “I’ll join you as soon as I wrap things up here.”
I sat in my room for a long time.
My phone buzzed with a message from Silas: [It’s been a while. Want to hang out?]
A second message arrived right after, this one from Leandro: [I heard you’re getting divorced again?]
[Dario doesn’t deserve you. Don’t be sad.]
[Don Romano’s birthday is in a few days. Silas and I will be there. We can hit the estate afterparty together afterward.]
I stared at the screen for a long time.
In the past, I would have replied with an eager “Sure” and poured all my energy into planning our party. The champagne, the private wine cellar, the low strains of jazz—every detail would have been meticulously luxurious.
But now, I didn’t even want to type a response.
I was done being the tool they used to maintain another friendship.
After tomorrow, I would be a “three-time divorced mafia woman.”
From this moment on, these three men would have absolutely nothing to do with my life.
