THE MAFIA’S MISTAKEN BRIDE

Jasmine’s POV

The question of whether I am still going to get married to this man or not hangs in the air surrounding me with the horrible feeling I felt the very first time he announced the wedding.

That was just yesterday but it feels like a month already.

I was worried sick about his wounds. I kept tossing in bed and hoping nothing would happen to him overnight. Seeing him this morning looking just like his usual self makes me relieved and surprised about who this man really is.

He does not look like someone who was on the brink of death just last night. The evidence of the shot was the well-bandaged arm. If not for that, I would have thought a miracle had happened overnight.

My stomach rumbles immediately and I decide to summon up the courage to step out. Usually, breakfast is brought to me before I even wake up but today is different.

Today is supposed to be our wedding. A wedding between two strangers with no direction. No sense of where their lives are going.

I wonder how my life would really be if I were married to him.

That also kept me awake throughout the night. I was worried about him and also in a dilemma of how my life is about to take a drastic turn.

If I say I am not relieved that he postponed the wedding, then I would be lying to myself. I don’t know when the wedding is going to take place but I really hope before then, he realizes his mistake and lets me go.

As I stroll out, I almost bump into someone. Stepping back and apologizing, I realize it is him. He appeared out of nowhere, looking smoking hot and beautiful in black pants, and a rolled-up shirt, making me see the dangerous tattoo on his arm just like how I saw it yesterday, and a brown luxury leather shoe. There is a cool watch on his wrist too which must be super expensive.

“Where are you going?!” His deep voice rings into my thoughts, making me step back and ignore his intense look.This is from NôvelDrama.Org.

I can’t believe I was practically drooling over him just now. Did he notice? Why am I finding a man who kidnapped me attractive? What the hell is this?

“I said, where are you going?!”

To me, he always seems to be barking at me. Not only me, though. Almost everyone but Mathew. I saw the way they both speak to each other.

It’s different from the rest. It’s different from the way he speaks to me and it makes me wonder if Mathew is special and if he will be different if I am someone special.

Taking a couple of breaths, I stare up at his face. His black hair is combed to the back, his blue ocean eyes boring into my own brown eyes. His jaw lines are set straight, even when he clenches them.

“I’m hungry”, I find myself saying eventually, as I play with my fingers nervously.

Even after helping him last night, as free as I was, I am still scared of him while he is still aloof, cold and indifferent.

Shouldn’t he be grateful?

He watches me from head to toe, then I see him gulp and look away. “I’m heading out, I might stay out late but I want you to meet with Diana. She will help you select your wedding dress if you are ok with it and have the dress delivered to the house before nightfall. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to find the head maid and tell her. I’m going out with Mathew.”

I watch him speak.

So fluent. Full of confidence.

Without a goodbye, he turns around and within minutes, he is gone with his long stride and usual confidence.

I sigh deeply.

Tugging back the pleat of hair falling out of place, I continue my journey. Even though I don’t know the kitchen, I believe I can find it.

Last night, I was made to see just how big and beautiful this house is. I know there is more to explore and I will sure love to do that but I would never trade that for my freedom.

I would rather choose to leave here than to explore the big mansion.

“There you are”, another familiar voice makes me halt in my tracks as I look around in confusion when I can no longer find my way to the kitchen.

No one is around to ask.

When I whirl back, I see her.

Andre’s mother.

The mother who has my fate tied with that of the devil. If she hadn’t told him I was her daughter, maybe he would have believed me a little.

But she said I was Andre. I could see right through her. She knew something about me was missing. Even if Andre and I have that much resemblance, there ought to be something to differentiate us from each other.

Does she have white hair too?

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking all around for you”, she flashes me a small smile before stopping in front of me.

I can’t find my voice. Probably because I am upset with her.

Silence descends upon us. I am not saying anything and she isn’t saying anything too.

Finally, she speaks up. “I know I have been a bad mother, Andre but I want you to know that I did my best. I tried looking for you. Your father and I tried, we are doing this for you. Andre, I would never…”

“I am not her”, I cut in sharply, with a voice I can barely recognize. “I am not Andre. I told you yesterday that I am not Andre. I don’t even know who this spoiled brat of yours is. That devil mistook me for her and you of all people who should know better can’t even differentiate me from your daughter?”

I scoff.

She looks pretty shocked, making guilt sip into me.

I was rude, wasn’t I?

Maybe she couldn’t find the difference between us. Maybe I really look very much like this girl.

All of this drama makes me more curious about Andre. And madder.

She must have been a spoiled brat, born with a silver spoon, made to make decisions of her own all her life while I struggled all through the years to eat a three square meal, struggle through college and still struggling.

Now, I am made to suffer for her sins.

“I’m sorry but I…”

“Do you even know your daughter?”

“Sorry?”

I know I am not supposed to go on with my rudeness but I can’t help it. This woman is the only person who can help me convince him that I am not Andre. I need her to know that I am not Andre. I need to show her proof that I am not.

“Can you tell me what your daughter looks like?”

She seems lost for a second before smiling, then she comes forward to take my hand. “I’m sorry, Andre.”

This is it!

I shove her away angrily. “I said I am not Andre!”

“Then who are you? Why do you look like her?!” she shouts back at me in the same tone.

My breathing becomes hard. This woman wants to make things difficult for me on purpose.

“I am Jasmine. My name is Jasmine Cooper”, I announce to her hearing but she isn’t close to being convinced.

This leaves me with no choice but to show her the only proof I have that I am not Andre. I don’t need to see a picture of her spoiled daughter to spot the difference between us.

Something is fishy here.

She must be doing this to protect her daughter from the devil. She wants me to take the fall and repay the sins of her daughter.

I have to make her believe me first. This evidence will determine if she is doing this on purpose or not. That way, I can find my answers.

Without a word, I drag a hand through my wig and in a second, I pull it off to reveal my true hair color.

A gasp leaves her mouth as she clamps her hands over her mouth before swaying back for a second as she watches me as though she has seen a ghost.

Then a tear rolls down her eyes.