The Principessa’s Mafia Trial: From A Stripped Bride To A Crimson Queen Chapter 01
The Crimson Accident
At my engagement feast, Lucia rushed toward me with a giant wine bottle and screamed, “Happy engagement!”
“No—”
The cork blew before I could finish.
Cold red wine shot straight into my chest. The force knocked me back a step.
My white lace gown soaked through in seconds, clinging to every curve. The bodice went sheer. My bra showed through.
The whole courtyard erupted in laughter.
Whistles. Phones lifting. Men leaning in.
I stood in the center of it all, dripping red, while half of Vegas watched.
Tonight was supposed to be the Crimson Feast. A public blessing for the union between Chicago and Vegas. Cavallo and Falcone.
My father had sent me here in my grandmother’s ivory lace wedding gown, the same one every Cavallo woman wore when she stepped into power.
My mother had resized it stitch by stitch before she died.
And Lucia had just destroyed it.
She lowered the bottle slowly, pressing a hand over her mouth.
“Oh my God, Vivian. I’m so sorry. I had no idea it would spray that hard.”
She was smiling. I saw it.
“Damn,” someone behind me laughed. “That’s one hell of a bride.”
“Falcone parties never disappoint.”
I grabbed the front of the gown, trying to cover myself. Too late. Cameras were already out.
I stepped forward and knocked the bottle from her hands. It hit the marble and rolled.
“You aimed it right at me,” I said.
Lucia’s face changed fast. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Vivian, why are you always so cruel to me?” Her voice cracked. “It’s a Falcone tradition. The bride gets showered in wine. It means good luck.”
A woman near the champagne tower muttered, “Chicago girls are so dramatic.”
“Vivian,” Lucia whispered, stepping back like I’d hit her. “It’s your engagement night. Why are you doing this to me?”
Lucia was Dominic’s adopted darling. The girl everyone protected.
I looked past her.
Dominic stood near the head table in a black suit, glass in hand. He’d watched the whole thing, Lucia aiming, the wine hitting me, the crowd laughing.
He didn’t flinch.
“Dominic,” I said. My voice cut clean through the noise.
For one second, I thought he’d come to me. Cover me. Tell his men to put the phones away.
Lucia got to him first.
She threw herself against his chest and sobbed into his jacket.
“Dom, I swear it was an accident. She scared me. She looked so angry—”
Dominic set down his glass.
Then he wrapped one arm around her.
Three years ago, I took a blade near my spine saving his life.
The scar still ran down my lower back, ugly and raised.
The wine had soaked the lace so thin you could see it clearly now. His men were photographing it.
Dominic used to kiss that scar. He told me once he’d spend the rest of his life making my sacrifice worth it.
Now he looked at me over Lucia’s head like I was the problem.
“Tell them to delete the photos,” I said.
He didn’t move.
“Dom,” Lucia sniffled, “I didn’t mean to ruin her dress.”
I stood there in my grandmother’s destroyed gown, waiting for even a shred of the man I’d loved for eight years to show up.
He never did.
Dominic pulled Lucia closer and looked at me with something worse than anger.
Annoyance.
“Clean yourself up, Vivian,” he said. “You’re making a scene.”
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