Exposed to the CEO Behind the Mafia Mask (by Silver Spoon) novel Chapter 133

Chapter 133: Chapter 133 Bridal Disaster Mission

Monica’s POV

Saturday mornings were supposed to be peaceful, but here I was trapped in bridal purgatory because Roman Rossi demanded his precious daughter needed my expertise for her wedding gown fitting. I’d already endured the initial selection of that catastrophic creation she believed would make her irresistible to Caleb Thorne.

Somehow this delusional mafia princess had convinced herself I was her personal wedding consultant, constantly calling with demands about her fantasy ceremony. The most nauseating part was Roman expecting me to coddle his tasteless spawn while I maintained my cover as Caleb’s loyal associate. My handler’s payments were the only reason I tolerated these two walking disasters.

Money kept me anchored to this charade. Without Roman’s under-the-table compensation, I would have told his ridiculous daughter and her gaudy mother exactly where they could deposit their wedding fantasies. They embodied everything repulsive about nouveau riche crime families - flashy, vulgar, and completely devoid of sophistication.

The exclusive bridal salon felt like a gilded prison as I waited an excessive amount of time for the dynamic duo to honor us with their presence. They believed tardiness demonstrated superiority over the common merchants. When they finally swept through the doors like they owned the entire fashion district, the boutique manager informed us we’d need to wait because punctual clients had secured all available consultants.

Yara erupted like an entitled volcano, shrieking and gesticulating wildly in the middle of the pristine showroom. The manager smoothly offered to process their refund so they could locate another establishment, which immediately silenced her tantrum. The hideous gown was apparently too precious to sacrifice for theatrical outbursts.

We were relegated to a cramped waiting area where Yara’s relentless chatter shifted into overdrive.

"This wedding will be absolutely magnificent," Yara gushed, practically vibrating in her chair with manic energy. "I’ll be the most stunning bride anyone has witnessed, won’t I, Mother?"

"Darling, you’ll be positively radiant," Patricia purred, practically glowing with maternal pride over her disaster of an offspring.

"Everything is aligning perfectly, Monica. Caleb can’t escape this arrangement now. Soon I’ll control his operations, inherit his territory, possess everything that defines power." Yara’s eyes gleamed with mercenary calculation.

"Sweetheart, don’t celebrate until the marriage certificate bears official signatures. You must maintain focus until this entire production reaches completion," I advised with manufactured sweetness, knowing it would agitate her nerves. If I had to endure this circus, I might as well enjoy watching her squirm.

"Are you attempting to jinx my happiness?" Yara’s voice climbed several octaves with indignation.

"Stop using those patronizing diminutives, they’re degrading," I snapped back. Her constant use of pet names made my skin crawl. "I’m providing tactical guidance, not superstitious nonsense."

"I don’t require strategy when everything is guaranteed. All I need to do is tighten the collar around my devoted pet’s throat, and Caleb will remain completely under my dominion forever." The comparison to a yapping lapdog was almost too perfect. I actually felt momentary sympathy for Caleb Thorne.

"Listen carefully, Yara. Your position isn’t as secure as you imagine. He demanded genetic testing, postponed the ceremony, can barely tolerate sharing space with you, and you’re not actually carrying his child. Your foundation rests on quicksand," I pushed harder, observing her face flush with mounting anxiety.

"My strategy is flawless, Monica. Do you honestly believe I’m some kind of amateur?" she demanded, offense saturating every syllable.

I knew she was precisely that kind of amateur, but I wanted to hear her excavate her own grave deeper. "Enlighten me about this masterful plan."

"Elementary. Following the wedding ceremony, I’ll stage a miscarriage and purchase time to develop the next phase." She appeared smugly satisfied with her brilliant deception.

"Fascinating approach. But won’t Caleb abandon you the instant he realizes there’s no child binding him?" I inquired with feigned innocence.

"You might have a valid point there. Perhaps I should fake the entire pregnancy and secretly acquire an infant to present as ours," she mused, as if discussing catering options.

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