The Mafia Boss's Bride

In the church, the mafia godfather Kane cornered me against the wall, his icy lips pressing against my forehead: "Remember, you can only be my woman." I was a nun, yet my alcoholic stepfather had promised me to this dangerous man— The 34-year-old mafia leader, the rumored cold-blooded and ruthless head of the Moretti family. He said it was to repay the gambling debt my mother owed, using me as payment. The wedding was set for next Saturday, and I didn't even have the right to resist. Over the phone, I desperately questioned him: "How many women have you had? Can you make a list?" His voice was as cold as ice: "Sonya, before the wedding, if you let another man touch even a finger on you, I'll make you disappear from this world completely." Fear drove me to lose my mind, and I blurted out: "After being drained by so many female celebrities, will you even last three minutes on Saturday?" The call was hung up. That night, I shed my nun's habit, slipped into a black strap mini dress, and walked into the bar. I had no idea that the roar of a helicopter was approaching, and the man I had enraged was coming to make me pay the price— "Sonya, I'll make you understand the consequences of defying me."