THE MAFIA’S MISTAKEN BRIDE

Xavier’s POVContent is © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

Confusion clouds my mind as I stare at Andre with white hair beneath me. Andre doesn’t have white hair, she is red-haired.

Where the hell did she get this hair color from?

She is still struggling to cover her hair with the wig when I stopped her. My hand firmly on her, locking her to the bed while I sit above her, my brows creased in wonderment.

Is this part of her trick to get me off the track? When I first saw her in Chicago, I knew instantly that she had changed her hair color. I thought she just dyed her red hair back to black and also her personality so I wouldn’t recognize her but I did.

But seeing that the black hair is nothing but a wig and that the real hair is white is making me more puzzled.

I know Andre can go to any length to get what she wants. She wants to escape my wrath forever but I won’t let that happen.

Now that she is here, I won’t let her slip away like I once allowed it. I am going to make life a living hell for her, not only because she humiliated me but also because she keeps lying and pretending to be someone else.

Jasmine my foot!

How the hell did she know that we are back in New York? She claimed never to have been in New York but she was quick to figure out that we left Chicago for New York.

I am not a dumbass!

Every other piece of evidence is pointing to the fact that she is Andre, not some fucking Jasmine. She has that tattoo, she has the same face so what else do I need to be sure it’s her?

Nothing.

I don’t need any more evidence. She is Andre and I won’t let her deceive me.

A knock resounds right outside the door jerking me out of her reverie. I step down from the bed quickly, my gaze riveting back to the hair which I find strange.

I have never seen anyone with white hair before and I wonder how she did this.

Before the door can open, she sits upright in bed and quickly puts on the wig to hide her white hair.

The door opens and two maids come in. I turn to them and they bow. One of them is holding a tray of food and the other is holding a bundle of clothes.

I called her parents last night to tell them that I have a surprise for them. I intended to take her to her parent’s mansion today but now I feel like making it some other day.

I take a last look at her and brush past the maids to take the exit out, my mind jumbled and a lot of questions popping up in my mind.

Is this really Andre? Why has she suddenly turned meek like a dove? Why does she look nervous all the time? Why does she have white hair instead of red hair?

I ignore the greetings of the maids I come across on my way to the bar. I don’t get what is happening and I really need to find my answers as soon as possible.

As soon as I get to the bar, I put out a stool and grab a bottle of wine when an idea strikes me.

I drop the bottle of wine and stand back up to fish out my phone from my pants pocket. I am wearing black pants with a t-shirt.

I dial Mr. Moore’s number instantly, my mind going back to how our story started.

Mr. Morre is a business partner. He used to be amongst the shareholders of my father’s company and he had the lowest shares in the company.

His daughter, Andre, is red-haired. We met at a party and I won’t say we started on the right foot. She poured her wine on me and humiliated me at the party. She was rude and abusive and I vowed to deal with her.

She didn’t know who I was, but even after she knew I was one of the youngest billionaires in the city, that didn’t stop her from insulting me each time our paths crossed.

As fate would have it, she was Mr. Moore’s only daughter. Her father needed my help and I took advantage of him. I struck an offer with him and he concurred without a second thought.

I wanted Andre to be my wife but she kicked against it. I made her father do the talking. I don’t know how he did it but she made me believe her father was the one who persuaded her to agree to marry me

All I wanted was revenge for the humiliation but what I got was more humiliation.

“Xavier?” His loud voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “How do you do, son?”

“Is Andre a twin?!” I demand impatiently. This can be the only explanation for the striking resemblances and the few differences.

Apart from this, then there is nothing more to say. Being a twin is the only thing that can convince me that this white-haired woman is not Andre.

“What? A twin? Of course not”, he answers quietly and falls silent, then he gasps. “Have you seen her? Have you found my baby?”

When Andre went missing, I was so sure her parents were hiding her. But after placing them on surveillance for two weeks, it was clear that they had no idea of her whereabouts too.

We have been searching for her for eleven months. Anytime we find her, she always manages to slip away like a thief in the dead of the night.

We found her twice.

Once in the UK and once in London.

“I haven’t found her. I will visit you tonight.”

“Xavier, are you….”

I cut him short by hanging up the call. That answers it. Andre isn’t a twin but the puzzle has not been solved yet.

This white-haired woman is either related to Andre or is Andre. The more I try to think about it, the more convinced I am that this woman is Andre and that she is just pretending.

But I want to give her the benefit of the doubt.

If she isn’t Andre, then Andre will come out from wherever she must be hiding to come to save her look-alike if she has a conscience at all.

If this is Andre, this is part of the punishment for the humiliation she has caused me and my family.

I don’t care if anyone gets hurt in the process. My ego was bruised and it needs to be healed.

The same thing she ran away from is what she has come back to. She is going to go through with this till the very end.

I don’t care who she is. All I know is that this woman right under my roof and nose is Andre, the woman who ran away and left me standing in the aisle on the day we were supposed to get married.

I stand up abruptly, dropping my phone on the bar counter before taking long strides back the way I came.

I don’t have a conscience anymore. People don’t step on my toes because I don’t forgive that easily.

Andre didn’t offend me once or twice. She deserves whatever comes her way.

We are still going to visit Mr. Moore, he needs to identify her but I don’t really care whether they tell me she is Andre or not. They would want to protect her from me. I just want to do that out of courtesy.

The door to her room opens before I can get close and the two maids come out. I ignore them and enter the room before slamming the door shut to signify her of my presence.

She is sitting down on the edge of the bed with her head bowed. She hoists her head up the moment I slammed the door shut and our eyes interlock.

“Get ready, we are visiting your parents in an hour and we are getting married at the registry tomorrow.”

She seems confused for a while as if she is trying to process what I am wrong. Suddenly, she exclaims in a loud voice. “No.”

She shakes her head intermittently, pleading with me with her eyes as she sinks to the floor in despair.

I whirl around and leave the room with a big smile on my face.