Mafia Boss Left His Bride for His Mistress on Their Wedding Night

The Grand Ballroom of the Haeundae Grand was illuminated by the flashing strobe of eighty press cameras.

At the center of the dais sat Dante Baek-Moretti, looking every inch the maritime titan in a bespoke charcoal three-piece suit, his gold wedding band gleaming under the blinding flashbulbs. Beside him sat Nyla, dressed in an impeccably tailored navy wool sheath dress, her hair pulled into an elegant chignon, her face serene, radiant, and inscrutable.

"Mr. Baek!" shouted a reporter from the Korea Economic Daily. "The recent parliamentary inquiry regarding the tax exemptions on Baek Jin’s secondary shipping fleet—does this union with the Avanoir Cultural Heritage Foundation represent a strategic pivot toward European philanthropic alignment?"

Dante smiled—a warm, charming, utterly predatory expression that owned the entire room. He reached over the polished oak table, covering Nyla’s hand with his own.

"My marriage to Nyla is not a corporate maneuver," Dante said, his deep baritone projecting effortlessly into the microphones. "It is the coming together of two lives. Nyla’s family has preserved global heritage for four generations. Her integrity, her international standing, and her quiet strength are the foundation upon which Baek Jin will build its modern global identity."

Flashbulbs popped in a frantic rhythm. Across the room, several members of Baek Jin’s executive board nodded approvingly, murmuring to their advisors that the girl was perfect—dignified, silent, and photogenic.

Beneath the table, Dante gave Nyla’s fingers a gentle, possessive squeeze.

He thought he was holding her steady.

He had no idea she was counting his heartbeats to verify his baseline stress level.

When the press conference concluded, Dante was immediately surrounded by three senior maritime attorneys and his chief operating officer, Kang Jin-woo.

"Director Baek," Kang whispered, his face tight with tension. "The Ministry of Maritime Affairs just issued an unscheduled inspection order on the containers at Berth Twelve. They want the original bills of lading for the European fine art consignments."

Dante’s smile vanished instantly. His posture stiffened into iron. "Who authorized an unscheduled inspection on Pier Twelve?"

"The customs commissioner himself," Kang said, checking his phone nervously. "He cited international import compliance discrepancies flagged by an anonymous institutional whistleblower in Brussels."

Dante glanced across the holding room. Nyla was standing near the floor-to-ceiling glass, sipping bottled water, seemingly lost in contemplation of the ocean waves.

He stepped over to her, his voice low and rushed. "Nyla, I need to head to the central terminal immediately. Stay with the security detail. The driver will take you to the Penthouse in Haeundae. I’ll join you for dinner."

"Is there an issue with the shipping consignments?" Nyla asked, her hazel eyes looking up at him with innocent concern.

"Just paperwork," Dante lied smoothly, kissing her cheek. "Government bureaucrats looking for headlines. Don't worry about it."

"Be careful, Dante," she murmured.

He turned on his heel, his coat billowing behind him as he marched toward the private elevators, flanked by four armed security guards.

Nyla waited until the elevator doors slid shut.