My Sister Runaway from her Wedding, so I became the Bride

My dad led me to marry a mafia heir in a coma.

"You’re going to take your sister place, Eloise."

My father’s words still echoed in my head as the sleek black car sped down the winding road toward the Rings of Faith estate. They’d barely left his mouth last night before he shoved Rosie’s wedding dress into my arms.

"She ran away. If you don’t do this, Eloise, they’ll come after us. After all of us."

He didn’t need to say more. Rosie’s recklessness had put us here—her drunk driving accident, the death of some mafia enforcer, the mountain of debts—and now she’d bolted, leaving me to clean up the mess.

“Miss Kane,” the driver’s deep voice cut through my thoughts as the gates of the estate came into view. “We’ve arrived.”

The car rolled to a stop in front of the sprawling mansion. Gold accents gleamed against black stone, the place exuding wealth and power. Men in tailored suits lined the entrance, their cold, calculating gazes tracking my every move as I stepped out.

My fingers gripped the lace hem of the dress as I tried to steady my breathing. Rosie should have been here. This was supposed to be her wedding, her punishment, not mine. But my mother needed the surgery, and my father had made it clear—there was no way out of this.

A tall, sharp-eyed woman greeted me at the door. Livia Montello. I recognized her from the photograph my father had shown me. She was the mother of the mafia heir I was about to marry—and the one holding my family’s fate in her hands.

“You’ll do,” she said briskly, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. “Follow me.”

Her heels clicked against the marble floors as she led me inside. The mansion’s interior was just as imposing as the outside—ornate chandeliers, black-and-gold furniture, and an oppressive silence that seemed to swallow everything.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s the groom? Aren’t we heading to the church?”

Livia stopped abruptly and turned. “Church?” Her voice carried a hint of amusement. “We’re the Montellos, not some starry-eyed lovers. The ceremony will be here. And as for the groom—”

She gestured toward a set of double doors at the end of the hall. Two men in suits pushed them open, and I froze.

Inside, there was no altar. No groom waiting in a tuxedo. Instead, there was a bed.

A bed where a man lay, motionless.

I blinked, trying to process what I was seeing. “What is this?” I whispered, my voice shaking.

Livia strode into the room without hesitation, standing beside the bed as if this was completely normal. “This,” she said, “is Darkon Montello, heir to the Rings of Faith mafia group.”

My mouth went dry. The man on the bed—Darkon—looked nothing like I expected. He was young, maybe late twenties, with dark hair and striking features that seemed carved from stone. But his eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in shallow, mechanical breaths.

“He’s…” I struggled to form the words. “He’s in a coma.”

“Correct,” Livia said without a hint of emotion. “Didn’t your father tell you?”

A thousand questions swirled in my head, but only one managed to escape. “Why? Why would you marry him off if he’s… like this?”

“Because it’s necessary.” Her cold eyes bore into mine. “Darkon’s condition doesn’t change his position as heir. This union solidifies an agreement, one that will protect your family and ensure you get the money for your mother’s surgery.”

“But—”

She cut me off with a wave of her hand. “Enough questions. The ceremony begins now. Sign the contract.”

A man appeared at my side, holding out a pen and a thick stack of papers. My hands trembled as I took the pen, my mind racing. This wasn’t a marriage—it was a transaction. A contract to bind me to a man who wasn’t even conscious.

I stared at the paper, the black ink blurring before my eyes. My father’s words came back to me: If you don’t do this, your mother dies.

I signed.

The moment my name hit the page, Livia clapped her hands. “Good. It’s done.”

The witnesses murmured their approval, and the weight of what I’d just agreed to settled over me like a crushing tide.

Livia turned back to Darkon. “You’ll move into the estate immediately. Your duty is simple: care for him, ensure the stability of this union, and in three months, you have to…” Her lips curved into a cold smile. “Produce an heir.”

My stomach churned. “An heir? How… am I supposed to do that with him lying lifeless on bed?”

Chapter 2

The slap came out of nowhere.

My cheek stung as I stumbled back, blinking away tears I refused to shed. Livia stood before me, her icy blue eyes blazing with fury, her perfectly manicured nails glinting in the light.

“It’s been two months!” she hissed. “Two months, Eloise, and still no heir. How long do you intend to play this game?”

I pressed a trembling hand to my cheek, the taste of humiliation bitter in my mouth. “I… I told you already. I can’t do it. It feels—”

“Ethical?” Livia cut me off, her laugh cold and mocking. “You think this is about ethics?” She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “This is the mafia, girl. There is no ethical. There is only survival.”

“I’m trying,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I take care of him. I stay here. But…” My eyes darted toward the door that led to Darkon’s room. “How can I… with him like that?”

Livia’s expression hardened, her lips curling into a cruel smile. She pulled out her phone and dialed. “If you won’t do what’s needed, then I’ll handle this myself.”

My heart stopped as she spoke into the phone. “Cancel the treatment for Eloise Kane’s mother. She no longer needs our charity.”

“No!” I lunged forward, grabbing her arm. “Please, don’t do this! I’ll… I’ll do it. I’ll swear to do it. Just give me more time. Please!”

Livia eyed me for a long, silent moment before hanging up. “You have one month. No more.”

I exhaled shakily, relief flooding through me, only for it to vanish when she leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent chills down my spine. “Let me remind you, Eloise, that you are the reason Darkon is lying in that bed. Or have you conveniently forgotten?”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stared at her, confused. “What are you talking about? The accident… and the man who died was an mafia enforcer, not—”

Livia’s laugh cut me off again, this time softer but no less cruel. “An enforcer? Is that what you were told?” She shook her head. “That ‘enforcer’ was Darkon Montello. The heir to this empire. My son. And thanks to that little stunt you pulled while drunk, he’s been comatose ever since. So you better make up for it or your life will be next.”

The room spun. My breath came in shallow inhales as the truth slammed into me like a freight train. Darkon was the victim. Not some random mafia thug. Not someone insignificant. It was him.

But that wasn’t even the worst part.

“I’m not Rosie,” I wanted to scream, but the words stuck in my throat. My nails dug into my palms as I swallowed the truth, burying it deeper. Livia couldn’t know. No one could.

“Get it done,” she said, turning on her heel. “Or your family gets nothing.”

I stood frozen long after she left, her words replaying in my head like a broken record. Finally, I forced my legs to move, dragging myself toward Darkon’s room.

The air in his room was always still, almost suffocating in its silence. Machines beeped softly around him, tubes and wires keeping him tethered to life.

I moved to his bedside, the way I’d done countless times in the last two months. His face was as striking as ever—sharp jawline, dark lashes fanning over pale cheeks—but there was no warmth, no movement. Just the rise and fall of his chest, steady and mechanical.

“Your mother is impossible,” I said softly, pulling the chair closer. “She thinks I can wave a magic wand and fix this. Like it’s all so simple.”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “I hate it here, you know. Hate this mansion, hate the people, hate the way they look at me like I’m nothing. Sometimes, I think I hate you too.” The words spilled out before I could stop them. I sighed, shaking my head. “But then I remember… it’s not your fault, is it?”

I reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I didn’t ask for this. None of us did. But I need you to wake up, Darkon. Not because I care. Not because I want this marriage to work. But because if you don’t…” My voice cracked. “I’ll lose everything. My mother, my family. Everything. I might even die… so maybe you can fix this?”

Silence filled the room again. I leaned back in the chair, staring at him. “Do you even hear me? Or am I just talking to myself?”

I stayed a while longer, talking about meaningless things. The weather. The books I’d been reading. How I didn’t even know what kind of person he was—or if I’d have liked him if he’d been awake.

Eventually, I stood and smoothed the sheets around him. “Goodnight, Darkon,” I said softly.

As I turned off the lights and headed for the door, I felt it.

A movement.

I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. Slowly, I turned back, squinting through the darkness. His hand… had it just twitched?

Chapter 3

“This should work,” the doctor said, holding out a cold, metallic device that gleamed under the harsh lights of the Montello estate’s private clinic. “It’s a probe for electroejaculation. It will stimulate him to produce.”

My stomach churned as I stared at the device, its shape clinical and mechanical. I couldn’t even touch it.

The doctor’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “Or,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “you could try the natural route. Darkon’s body is fully functional despite the coma. If you prefer.”

Heat burned across my face, but I couldn’t form words. Natural? She made it sound so simple, like I wasn’t being asked to cross every moral line imaginable.

The box containing the probe felt heavier in my hands than it should have as I made my way back to my room. Once inside, I set it down on the dresser and stared at it like it might attack me.

What the heck was I supposed to do?

My phone buzzed on the bed, breaking through the silence. I grabbed it, grateful for the distraction. “Dad?”

“Eloise.” His voice sounded strained, desperate. “It’s your mother. The surgery… it wasn’t successful.”

My chest tightened. “What do you mean? I thought they found a match for her heart transplant—”

“They did,” he interrupted, “But her body rejected it. The doctors say we need another donor. Another surgery. And we need money. More money.”

I gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. “I… I’ll tell Livia,” I managed, even though I already knew what her response would be.

You know the terms, her cold voice would echo in my head. No heir, no money.

I hung up, the weight of my father’s despair pressing down on me. I didn’t have a choice anymore, did I? My mother’s life depended on me doing the unthinkable.

Later that night, I sat by Darkon’s bedside, my thoughts swirling. The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast soft shadows on his face, his perfect features still and peaceful. It was infuriating how someone so lifeless could hold so much power over my family’s survival.

“Darkon,” I said softly, “You’re supposed to be my husband, you know. But you’ve never even looked at me. Never spoken to me. And here I am, about to…”

I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

My hands fidgeted with the hem of my silk robe as I leaned closer to him. “I don’t even know how to kiss,” I admitted with a nervous laugh. “Rosie was the one who got all the attention growing up, not me. I was the invisible one. The… untouched one.”

The word felt awkward on my mouth, but it was the truth. I didn’t know how to do any of this. Yet here I was, about to attempt it. For my mother.

Taking a shaky breath, I stood and climbed onto the bed.

I placed my hands on his chest, steadying myself. “Okay,” I whispered, trying to psych myself up. “I can do this. It’s just… it’s just a body, right? You’re not even awake.”

My voice cracked as I leaned down, brushing my trembling lips against his jaw. I had no idea what I was doing, but I tried to remember the things I’d watched online earlier—the way women moved, the way they touched.

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered under my breath.

I shifted slightly, adjusting my position on his stomach. The moment I did, I felt it—. My breath caught in my throat, and I froze.

A strong hand gripped my body.

I yelped, my body going rigid as panic surged through me. His fingers tightened, guiding me lower, and then a voice—a deep, raspy whisper—cut through the silence.

“This,” he murmured, his lips barely moving, “is where you need to sit if you want a son from me.”

My heart stopped. I stared at him, my mind racing. His eyes remained closed, his body otherwise still, but his grip on my torso was firm.

“Darkon?” I breathed, my voice trembling.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He’s awake?