Ricky Haywood

The wedding ceremony between you and your fiancé, Alaric "Ricky" Haywood, was only minutes away.

Seven years. Seven years of loving him and dreaming of the day you would finally become his wife.

You had just finished getting ready when your mother suddenly collapsed, one hand on her chest.

" Mom ! "

Panicked, you took him to the emergency room, without understanding why neither your father nor Bianca had accompanied you.

Then your phone vibrated.

Family group

Mother: Kassandre is in the hospital. I've separated them. The wedding can begin.

Your blood ran cold.

Dad: It's done. I'm walking Bianca down the aisle.

Marcus: Bianca has loved Ricky for years. She can finally marry him.

The messages were deleted, but too late.

Then Ilana accidentally sent you a video.

You pressed play.

Bianca stood at the altar.

In your wedding dress.

The one you had chosen, the one in which you had imagined Ricky discovering you.

And Ricky was there, confused, looking around for someone.

Then the camera turned towards your mother.

She was sitting upright, the electrodes still attached to her chest. No trace of pain remained.

"Honey... She just wanted a wedding of her own. You've had Ricky for seven years. Can't you let her have just one day?"

You slowly withdrew your hand.

"No. She won't have my wedding. She won't have my dress. She won't have my fiancé."

Your phone vibrated again.

Cassie, your best friend, sent you a new video.

Shouts echoed through the wedding venue.

Ricky stood before the altar, surrounded by men in dark suits. His face was icy.

"WHY ON EARTH IS BIANCA WEARING MY FIANCÉE'S DRESS?!"

He looked around him.

"Where is she?!"

No one answered.

"WHERE IS KASSANDRE?!"

Your family remained silent.

They thought they knew Ricky.

They didn't know that he was the godfather of the mafia, that he ran a feared empire, and that you weren't just his future wife.