The Mafia Donna’s Bridal Escape Night Chapter 01

The Mafia Donna’s Bridal Escape Night Chapter 01

On our wedding eve, my fiancé Joren locked me in a hotel escape room–just because his childhood friend watched the movie Escape Room and wanted a real-life version.

Three “bride puzzles.”

Miss one, face a punishment.

Each penalty grew worse until I collapsed on the floor, shivering.

Outside, everyone placed bets on whether I’d break just to save our wedding.

I pounded on the door begging for help, but Joren shut off the intercom.

“Relax, it’s just a prank.”

“She obeys everything I say-she’ll play along.”

Then came the hazelnut syrup slipped into my drink.

My lips went numb, my lungs suffocating.

Kneeling by the door, I begged for my allergy meds.

Joren casually swirled his glass.

“Wait a bit longer. Even with her last breath, she’ll crawl back to me.”

I really was down to my last breath.

Using every ounce of strength left, I smashed open the door–and never crawled to him again.

Joren? He lost his mind.

…

A few hours earlier.

Inside a private hotel in Westchester, staff were making final preparations for the next day’s wedding.

Liora sat on the lounge sofa, an iPad still playing the end credits of a movie at her feet.

Escape Room.

“Joren, I’m suddenly dying to know what it actually feels like to be locked in a real escape room.”

She flipped a strand of golden hair over her shoulder. “Those CGI effects are so boring. Zero thrill.”

Joren sat up, the corner of his mouth curving into a familiar smile. That was his I-have-a-brilliant-idea face.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

His gaze swept the room, passing over every corner, every face. Predictably, it landed on me.

I was sitting on the other side, cross-checking the guest list for tomorrow.

“Lyra!” His voice carried across the room. “Come here.”

“What’s going on?” I set everything down and walked over.

Joren leaned back into the sofa, one arm draped behind Liora. Casual, but possessive. It bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

Liora patted the seat beside her with a bright smile.

“Lyra, we’ve got a little pre-wedding surprise for you.”

“This hotel has an escape room project that’s still being built out. Want to give it a try?”

“One room, three questions. All about Joren. Answer right and you walk out. Answer wrong and you take a little penalty.”

“Sound fun? Perfect for the night before the wedding, right?”

“I’m not playing.”

I turned her down flat.

The Ashford family had held their ground in New York’s underworld for decades. Hotels, private clubs, and security firms spread across Westchester and Manhattan. Joren Ashford, as the current generation’s man in charge, had a wedding that drew serious attention. Half the guest list for tomorrow were key business partners.

I still had a mountain of details to confirm.

More importantly, Grandma Elise was upstairs waiting for me.

She was getting older. Her heart wasn’t strong. She needed to take her medication by nine every night.

But she could never remember where she put her pills, so I always carried them with me.

My parents died when I was young. Grandma Elise raised me, and her biggest wish now was to see me find a partner, someone I could lean on.

To make things easier for her, we’d even scrapped the Ashford family’s original plan to hold the ceremony at their spa estate in Saratoga Springs and moved it to this hotel, closer to where she was staying.

I glanced at my watch. Already past eight.

“I need to bring Grandma her medication.”

“Just ten minutes.” Liora drew out the words. “Three questions, that’s all. Don’t tell me you’re scared. Scared you don’t know Joren well enough?”

I ignored her and turned to leave.

Joren caught my wrist.

“I’ll have someone bring Grandma her pills.”

“Play along with Liora. She’s been working so hard to help with our wedding. This is her one little request. You wouldn’t want to ruin her fun, would you?”

A quiet bitterness settled in my chest.

Liora Whitmore. The Whitmore family’s golden girl, and Joren’s childhood best friend.

She’d come back from Europe three months ago. Since then, she’d inserted herself into every aspect of our wedding planning.

Guest accommodations, venue decor, even the delivery schedule for my wedding dress — Joren let her weigh in on all of it.

The first night she was back, she crawled into our bed. Said she just wanted to see if I’d get jealous.

I was so furious I didn’t sleep all night. Joren laughed and said it was a joke.

A month ago, she posted my phone number in a truth-or-dare group chat at some private club. I got harassing calls from strange men for days.

Joren said she was drunk. Told me to let it go.

After that, she sent me a photo of Joren’s face covered in blood, claiming he’d been hurt in the Bronx.

I drove through a downpour to get there, fell so hard my knees were torn up, only to find out the whole thing was a prank after someone lost a bet.

Joren said the same thing he always said: “That’s just how she is. Don’t take it so seriously.”

Pranks like these. I’d heard the excuses too many times to count.

This time didn’t seem any different.

I looked at Joren. His blue eyes held no question in them. Only expectation.

Before I could even open my mouth, Liora was already linking her arm through mine with a laugh.

“I knew Lyra wouldn’t be a buzzkill.”

She pulled me toward the elevator.

I didn’t know it then.

This game that was supposed to take ten minutes would change everything.