Sarah - The Night Before The Wedding
SARAH
My husband is in love with his childhood friend. Not just his childhood friend but a woman who happens to also be his sister-in-law.
Shocking, right? But I should’ve known. Our marriage wasn’t one of love, fairy tales, second chances, or romance-none of those things people usually marry for. No, mine was different. But not unusual in my world.
Mine was an arranged marriage between the two powerful families in the country. A union for peace. So no more of our family’s blood would stain the ground.
My name is Sarah Sullivan. Strange name for a mafia princess, I know. But my mother named me. So, I was told...
I never got the chance to know her. She died giving birth to me.
I’m the third child—and the last. I have two older brothers who, though they never say it, I know secretly hate me. They blame me for our mother’s death. After all, she walked into the hospital to have me… and never came out.
My father,Ronan Sullivan—known as the black-furred dog in the underground—loves me. He says I remind him of her. That I look just like her. But sometimes, when he looks at me, I see more than love in his eyes. I see sadness. Frustration. Maybe even regret.
Looking like my mother, being the reason she’s gone… it’s both a curse and a gift.
Now, back to my husband—Cullen Cincinnati . Of the infamous Cincinnati Mafia family. Strong. Powerful. Maybe like mine, maybe not. I wouldn’t know. I’m not involved in mafia business, and honestly, I don’t care to be.
All I know is there's been a long history of bloodshed between us—the Irish and the Italians. And for some reason, I still can’t quite wrap my head around, they thought marriage would fix it. That binding our bloodlines—Irish and Italian—would somehow bring peace.
Now here’s where it gets interesting.
Cedric Cincinnati , the Don of the Italian mafia, had two sons. No daughters. Cullen and Cyrus Cincinnati .
And on our side? My father, Ronan Sullivan, had two sons and one daughter—me. So naturally, I had to be the sacrificial lamb. The price of peace.
But I couldn’t just marry anyone. No, not me. I was the daughter of Sullivan. I had to marry someone of power. Someone worthy. That meant the next heir to the Cincinnati throne—Cyrus Cincinnati .
Yes, I was promised to Damian. Groomed for it. Expected to be his perfect mafia wife.
So now you’re probably wondering—how did I end up married to Cullen?
Well… that’s a funny story in itself.
And here’s what happened—something I’ve only now come to fully realize. But let me tell you what I was told back then.
I’d been engaged to Cyrus for years. I stalked him on social media. Obsessed over every detail I could find- through my brothers, my father, and anyone. I studied him like a subject. I needed to know what kind of man I was marrying. So when the day came, I’d be ready.
Or at least, I thought I would be.
The night before my wedding, my father invited me to dinner. Just the two of us. He knows how much I love the garden, so he had it set up there—soft lights, expensive wine, silver trays. It was beautiful. A send-off of some sort...
After all, he was about to marry me off. We both knew we wouldn’t see each other often after this. He was sending me into a family he didn’t trust, but this was the deal we’d all accepted. I’d come to terms with it. I was ready.
Until he shattered everything.
We were halfway through dinner when he looked at me with that tired softness in his eyes and said,
“You’re not marrying Cyrus Cincinnati anymore.”
I just stared at him. Mouth open.
He took a breath, carefully choosing what to say next.
“I know you have questions. I know this isn’t what you expected. But…” he paused, coughed lightly, then continued, “Cyrus is already married.”
"What? But why? How?"
I didn’t know why I said it, or who I was even asking. All I knew at that moment was that I felt heartbreak, sadness, and rage twisting inside me all at once. A storm I hadn’t prepared for.
I didn’t even know Cyrus—not really. But I had prepared myself for a life with him. I’d accepted my fate. I’d trained myself to be ready. I’d researched him obsessively—stupid things, like his favourite food from shady gossip sites. Dug up old interviews, traced his routines, and learned everything I could.
Because I wanted to be prepared. I wanted to get it right. And now? They’d switched the groom. Just like that.
And no one thought to tell me.
My father sat across from me, calm, unreadable. As if he’d expected this reaction. Maybe even expected me to throw a tantrum.
"He’s married?" I asked, my voice sharp, and cold. "Since when? Yesterday? This morning? When did this happen?"
I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Cyrus was supposed to be the heir—the future Don of the Cincinnati empire. Cullen was just… the second prince. The backup. How was this helping anything? How did this make any sense?
My father’s voice was gentle. “I know you’re disappointed, my darling. That’s why I didn’t tell you earlier. I was afraid of how you’d react.”
Earlier?
"How soon is ‘earlier’?" I snapped. "How long have you known?"
He hesitated. Then said,
“He’s been married for three years now.”
Three years. The words sliced through me. A whole year.
I couldn’t stop the thoughts from spiralling in my head. My father—my gentle, distant angel of a father—he had always treated me like something fragile. Handled me with care. Never too close, never too harsh. And still, I loved him for it. Worshipped him, even.
We had never argued. Not once. I had never raised my voice at him.
Until now.
"How could you keep this from me? Why did you keep this from me?"
My voice rose, trembling. "Why wasn't it even in the news? The gossip columns? Nothing? Was it a secret marriage? Was it… what even happened?"
I burst. I couldn’t hold it anymore. My father looked heartbroken.
And that was the worst part—I didn’t know if he was heartbroken for me… or just disappointed...in me. Probably at me. Maybe at the whole situation.
His voice was low, heavy. “We blocked everything that had to do with him and the wedding from you. We had the means. The resources. We made sure you never knew.”
"But why?" I demanded, my voice breaking. "Why would you do that to me? Why would you hide it from me? And why now? Why tonight?!"
I felt the tears pressing against my eyes, hot and bitter. And I saw him flinch—not outwardly, but something shifted in his face. Like he wanted to reach out. Like he wanted to hold me.
But he didn’t.
And I knew he wouldn’t.
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