Forced To Marry The Mafia

The wedding

"Get up, girl, it's the big day!" Ciara's energetic shake jolted me awake. "Oh, shoot," I muttered, springing out of bed and nudging everyone else. "Come on, bro, time to rise and shine! We've got to hustle to the event centre."

"Relax, the wedding's still three hours away," came the nonchalant response.

"Three hours to shower, dress, pack, tackle rush-hour traffic, glam up everyone's faces, fix any last-minute snags, and make it to both the church service and reception."

"Ugh, fine. Let's get Jennie up. We'll shower when we get there."

In the car, Ciara began rummaging in the back. "Hey, guys? The dress isn't here."

I slammed on the brakes, whipping around to face her. "What do you mean the dress isn't here?!" I demanded, turning to Jennie. "Did you forget your dress?!"

"I thought it was already at the venue," Jennie sheepishly admitted.

"How could it be there if we're all here?!"

"Elara, calm down. I'll have my assistant bring it," Jennie offered, trying to defuse the situation.

"We don't have time for this!" I exclaimed, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry," Jennie mumbled, her guilt palpable.

"You should be," I muttered, refocusing on the road ahead.

At the venue, we scrambled to get ready. Jennie remained silent, her distress evident.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. I didn't mean to be so harsh," I apologized, noticing her somber expression.

"It's my fault for not double-checking," Jennie admitted, her eyes welling up.

"It's okay. Don't cry. You didn't do anything wrong," I reassured her, enveloping her in a comforting embrace.

"I'm just so overwhelmed. My life feels like it's turned upside down," Jennie confessed, her voice trembling with emotion.

"I'm sorry. I should've protected you better," I choked out, feeling the weight of my own failures.

"I haven't even done my makeup, and I'm already in tears," Rochelle joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

As the makeup artists arrived, we settled into our seats, laughter mingling with nervous energy.

Suddenly, the room fell silent as our father entered, his presence casting a shadow over the festivities.

"My daughter!" he exclaimed, arms outstretched for a hug. Despite his outward warmth, there was an underlying tension.

"What's going on?" he demanded, his tone laced with thinly veiled threats.

Undeterred, our mother approached Jennie, her eyes brimming with tears. "You look absolutely stunning, my darling," she whispered, a mix of pride and sorrow in her voice. "You look gorgeous too mommy," Jennie replied.

"You're getting married today, my dear. You're too old for such childish names," she teased, attempting to lighten the mood.

Jennie's laughter mingled with our mother's tears, creating a bittersweet moment.

"Don't let your emotions get the best of you. We've got a wedding to attend," our father interjected, his words a stark reminder of the looming expectations.

With a final warning, he left the room, leaving behind a palpable sense of unease.

The makeup artist, her face frozen with fear, suddenly snapped out of it and tentatively began to apply my makeup. Yet, her hands trembled visibly.