The Mafia Boss’s Fiancée Ordered Me to Take a Humiliated Wife’s Dinner Away — Until the Boss Realized Why the Best Man Was Sweating

Vanessa swallowed hard. The massive diamond on her finger caught the light as her hands trembled.

“I was frustrated, Luca,” Vanessa lied, playing the victim.

“With what?” Luca asked coldly.

“With her constant, crazy accusations!” Vanessa shot back.

Luca turned his piercing gaze toward his oldest friend. “Where were you on Tuesday night, Adrian?”

Adrian stared at his hands, rubbing his wedding band with his thumb. “Working.”

“Where?”

“Downtown.”

“At which restaurant?” Luca pressed, his voice like a vice tightening around Adrian’s neck.

Adrian didn't answer.

Luca waited. The silence was agonizing. “Adrian.”

His friend looked up, and something in his face completely broke. “Don't do this here, Luca. Not in front of everyone.”

Luca studied the man he had trusted his entire life. “You’ve had seventeen years to stand beside your wife, Adrian. She is standing alone right now.”

Allison’s eyes filled with tears again. She covered her mouth to stifle a sob.

I could barely breathe. Because my mind was racing. I had seen something earlier that evening. Something I hadn't fully understood until this exact moment.

Before dinner began, when the guests were mingling with cocktails, Vanessa had leaned over Adrian’s empty chair. She had intimately straightened his tie, her fingers lingering on his chest. Then, she had whispered something that made him quickly catch her wrist in a panic.

At the time, I had thought nothing of it. Just a friendly adjustment. But now, the words echoed clearly in my memory.

Not here. She’ll see.

Suddenly, Luca looked directly at me. “Emily?”

My stomach completely dropped out. “Yes, sir?”

“You're shaking,” Luca observed quietly.

I immediately lowered my eyes to the floor. “I'm sorry, sir.”

Vanessa aggressively pushed her chair back and stood up. “Emily is clearly overwhelmed and incompetent. I will handle her myself.”

She reached out, her sharp acrylic nails aiming for my arm. I instinctively took a small step back. It was a tiny, subtle movement.