Chapter 1

When the wedding bells rang, my groom, Adrian Moretti, was gone.

He was the Don of the Moretti family, and the man I had loved for seven years.

By Moretti tradition, today I was meant to be acknowledged as the Don’s wife. Instead, I stood alone before the altar.

At the same time, my mother sent a video to our family chat.

In it, Adrian knelt in the banquet hall next door and slid my ring onto the finger of my twin sister, Livia Vale.

Relatives cheered. My father smiled beside them. Livia cried against Adrian’s shoulder, and he comforted her as if she had always been the bride.

I pulled off my veil, ready to demand an explanation, when my mother tagged me.

Elena, Livia is your sister. She has always been weak, and she has always given way to you. Let her have this once.

I called her with shaking hands.

“Why did everyone hide this from me?”

“Because you’ve fought with Livia since childhood. If we told you earlier, you would have caused a scene. What if she cut herself again?”

“You’re healthy. You can have another wedding later.”

“We’re family. Don’t make this ugly over a man.”

I held the phone and could not speak.

So it was not only my wedding they could give away.

They could give me away with it.

Then I was done with them.

Chapter 1

I returned to the bridal room and sent Adrian one message.

The wedding is canceled.

His call came less than ten seconds later.

“Elena, have you made enough of a scene?”

His voice was low.

“Livia slit her wrist. The doctor said she can’t be upset again. Are you really going to fight her over a ceremony right now?”

The ring box sat open on the vanity. Inside were the bands I had picked up myself, our names engraved along the inner edges.

“Adrian, today is our seventh anniversary. It is also the wedding we spent six months preparing.”

“I know.”

“But this is a life-or-death matter. You have always been the sensible one. Help her get through this.”

I said nothing.

“She has severe depression. Her only obsession is to wear a wedding dress once and marry me once.”

“It has no legal force. The Moretti marriage papers have not changed. You are still my fiancée.”

Legally, maybe. But in the Moretti world, whoever stood beside the Don at that altar became his Donna in the eyes of the family.

He paused, then lowered his voice.

“Once she is stable, I will take you to register tomorrow.”

I asked, “Then what am I today?”

The line went quiet.

“Today, we make her feel safe.”

My mother’s voice came from his side.

“Adrian, stop wasting time on her.”

“Elena has resented Livia since they were children. Livia isn’t as strong as she is. She isn’t as healthy. Now she can’t even have one wedding without Elena making it about herself?”

“If Elena dares to come here and cause trouble, I’ll pretend I never had that daughter.”

“Mom, today was supposed to be my wedding.”

“You and Adrian have been together for seven years. Will one day kill you?”

Her voice hardened.

“It might kill Livia. She just came back from the hospital.”

Adrian spoke again.

“Elena, don’t make this bigger. The Moretti family is outside. You know what this ceremony means.”

Of course I knew.

That was why I had embroidered the wedding dress myself.

The neckline carried the Moretti black eagle. The skirt carried the vine pattern passed down through Vale Atelier. For three months, I had worked through the night and pricked my fingers until the stitches blurred.

Adrian had once held my hands and promised that the entire Moretti family would know I was his only bride.

Now he said, “One more thing.”

“Say it.”

“Livia saw your dress. She likes it.”

“Take it off and have someone send it over. If she wears it, she’ll calm down faster.”

I looked at the white dress in the mirror.

“Do you know how long I spent on this?”

“I know. I’ll have a better one made for you later.”

“No need.”

“Elena.”

“I’ll bring it.”

He exhaled.

“Don’t overthink this. I’ll make it up to you after Livia gets better.”

I ended the call.

My bridesmaid opened the door.

“Elena, the guests are asking where Don Moretti is.”

“He isn’t coming.”

She froze.

“He is next door, marrying Livia.”

I wiped the red from my lips, removed the dress, and put on a black coat. The bodice still held the warmth of my body when I folded it into a paper garment bag.

No one outside stopped me.

The hallway between the two banquet rooms was lined with white roses and Moretti guards. The same flowers, the same music, the same priest’s schedule. Only the bride had been replaced.

Half an hour later, I walked into the banquet hall next door.

The room was loud enough to drown out the wedding bells outside.

Moretti soldiers stood along the walls. Relatives surrounded Livia, laughing and congratulating her. A white shawl covered her shoulders, and fresh bandages wrapped one wrist.

Adrian stood beside her, wiping her tears.

My mother held Livia’s hand.

“Our Livia is beautiful today.”

My father nodded.

“Adrian is responsible. We can trust him with her.”

My aunt lifted her glass.

“Livia is lucky. Elena is too forceful. What man could stand that forever?”

A cousin added, “She has always tried to outshine Livia. Don Moretti is right this time. A man should protect the weaker one.”

Adrian saw me and came over quickly, blocking my view of Livia.

“Why did you come yourself?”

Then, lower, “Livia just settled down. Don’t upset her.”

I handed him the bag.

“The dress.”

He took it.

“Elena, I know you were wronged today.”

“After Livia recovers, I will give you a bigger wedding. The venue, the guests, the dress—anything you want.”

I did not answer.

He turned to leave, then stopped.

“Since you’re here, find a seat.”

“Don’t make Livia think you brought the dress unwillingly.”

Chapter 2

The table was already set with wine, bread, and cold appetizers.

I sat in a corner and picked up a honeyed fig. The sweetness spread across my tongue, then turned bitter.

Adrian gave the dress to Livia.

She was taken backstage by two attendants. When she came out again, the banquet hall erupted in applause.

The dress had been made for my body. Livia was shorter and thinner than I was, so the bodice gaped slightly at her waist and the hem dragged over the marble floor. The Moretti black eagle, stitched to sit over my heart, now hung crooked across hers.

No one cared.

My mother covered her mouth as if she were watching a miracle.

Adrian stood before Livia and looked at her for a long time.

“Livia, you’re beautiful.”

The relatives clapped harder.

“She looks like a princess,” my aunt said.

“No, like a real Moretti bride,” someone else added.

Livia lowered her lashes and leaned closer to Adrian.

“Will Elena be angry with me?”

“This was supposed to be her wedding. I took her place.”

Adrian adjusted the veil around her shoulders.

“She won’t. She knows you’re sick.”

Then he turned slightly, his voice calm enough for everyone to hear.

“Elena gave this ceremony to you willingly. She even brought the dress herself.”

Every eye in the room shifted to me.

Livia covered her mouth, tears gathering at once.

“Elena, do you really not blame me?”

My mother came over and took the fork from my hand.

“Today is Livia’s happy day. Who are you showing that face to?”

“Since you’re here, go make a toast. Wish them happiness.”

“Mom, today was supposed to be my wedding too.”

Her expression stiffened, then darkened.

“You and Adrian have been together for seven years. Do you really need this one ceremony?”

“Do you know how serious Livia’s condition is?”

“The doctor said she could hurt herself again at any moment. You are healthy. Why can’t you give way to her once?”

My aunt came over as well.

“Elena, we are not trying to hurt you. You have your own atelier, your talent, your future. You lack nothing.”

“Livia has only Adrian right now.”

A cousin raised her glass.

“We’re all family. Don’t make this ugly over a man. Be kinder, and Livia will feel better.”

They had said versions of the same thing since we were children. Livia cried more easily, so I had to apologize first. Livia fell sick more often, so I had to stop wanting whatever she wanted.

Today, the thing she wanted was my husband.

They wanted me to give up my fiancé, my wedding, and the dress I had sewn with my own hands.

The reason never changed.

I was strong. Livia was fragile.

I would not die. She might.

Adrian walked over.

“Elena, what is wrong with you today?”

His voice lowered in warning.

“You usually know better than this. Livia is about to cry. Go tell her you’re not angry.”

I did not move.

He frowned.

“I’m asking you to calm her down, not admit defeat.”

Seven years.

He knew how many orders I had refused for this wedding. He had watched me fall asleep over sketches and wake before dawn to finish the embroidery. He knew that what I had wanted most since childhood was a home no one could take from me.

Now he was asking me to comfort the woman standing in my place.

I picked up the glass of red wine on the table.

Adrian’s face changed immediately.

Without hesitation, he stepped in front of Livia.

“Elena, what are you doing?”

Livia gripped his sleeve, her face pale.

The room went quiet.

A Moretti guard moved half a step closer. My father stood behind Livia. My mother stared at the glass in my hand as if I had already thrown it.

I had never raised a hand to Livia.

Not once.

But in that moment, Adrian believed I might.

He said he knew me. He said I was sensible. He said I would understand.

His body had chosen before his mouth could.

I lifted the wine and drank it all.

The alcohol burned down my throat.

“I wish you happiness.”

I set the glass down and turned to leave.

Behind me, Livia’s trembling voice followed.

“Adrian, Elena is still angry, isn’t she?”

“Should I not have worn the dress?”

Adrian answered softly.

“Don’t mind her.”

“She’s just stubborn. She’ll be fine in a few days.”

Chapter 3

After leaving the hotel, I went to Southbank House, the place Adrian had prepared for us after the wedding.

It was the Moretti family’s riverside safe house. There was an armory belowground, an escape route through the garage, and a top-floor bedroom overlooking the river.

Adrian had once said it would be our home after the ceremony.

I pressed my thumb to the lock.

【Access denied.】

I tried again.

Still denied.

The door opened from inside.

Nico, Adrian’s underboss, stood behind it.

“Elena.”

I looked past him.

The living room had changed.

My embroidery frame had been moved to the corner and covered with a dust cloth. The wedding sketches on the table were gone, replaced by medicine bottles, therapy notes, and a humidifier.

Above the fireplace, there had once been the wedding crest I designed for both families.

The black eagle and the trailing vines had taken seventeen drafts.

Now a painting of white irises hung there.

Livia’s favorite flower.

Nico closed the door.

“Don Moretti ordered us to adjust the house.”

“Adjust?”

“Miss Livia is staying here tonight. The doctor said she needs quiet and security.”

Two men were carrying my trunks out of the master bedroom.

One case had not been shut properly. A roll of fabric slipped through the gap and dragged across the floor.

It was the fabric I had chosen for my first family dinner after the wedding.

“Who told you to touch my things?”

“The Don.”

Nico softened his voice.

“It’s temporary. Miss Livia has trouble sleeping, and the master bedroom is closest to the security room.”

“So my access was removed.”

“Frozen,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “Temporarily. The Don said you were emotional today. He was afraid you might come back and clash with Livia.”

I laughed once.

So in this house, I had become the person they needed protection from.

Nico picked up a dark green jewelry box from the coffee table.

“The Don asked me to give you this.”

I did not take it.

He opened it.

Inside was an emerald brooch with the Moretti black eagle set at its center.

Expensive. Beautiful. Almost like compensation.

But it was not a piece for a wife.

It was the kind of brooch the Moretti family gave to women attached to loyal subordinates.

I had seen it three times at family dinners.

Nico’s voice dropped.

“The Don said you were wronged today. Once Miss Livia is stable, he will explain everything himself.”

“Where is he now?”

“With Miss Livia. She has an appointment with her therapist.”

“In my wedding dress?”

Nico did not answer.

I walked to the corner and pulled the cloth off the embroidery frame.

The needle was still in the fabric.

The black eagle’s wing was unfinished. The vines were only half complete. After the wedding, I had planned to frame it and hang it in the study.

Now it sat in the corner.

I pulled out the needle and cut the thread.

Nico’s face changed.

“Elena, the Don likes that piece.”

“Then he can finish it himself.”

I set the needle on the table and went into the study.

The safe was still there.

I entered the code and took what belonged to me.

My passport, cash, atelier ownership papers, old design books, and the silver thimble my grandmother left me.

I took nothing Adrian had given me.

Nico stood in the doorway.

“Elena, what are you doing?”

“Taking back my things.”

“The Don won’t want this.”

“Then tell him to stop me.”

Nico fell silent.

He knew Adrian would not come.

I packed the documents into my bag and looked at the safe house one last time.

My name was gone from the access system. The master bedroom no longer belonged to me. Even the wedding crest I drew by hand had been replaced.

At the door, one of the guards asked quietly,

“Should we tell the Don?”

Nico lowered his voice.

“Tell him what? She’s upset.”

“The Don will talk to her, and she’ll come back.”

I opened the door and stepped into the night.

This time, I did not look back.

Chapter 4

They all thought I was sensible.

They all thought I could not leave Adrian.

So my wedding could be given away. My dress could be given away. Even the safe house meant to become my home could be given away.

The next morning, Adrian sent a message.

Nico said you went to Southbank House last night.

Livia is only staying there for a while. You don’t need to be angry over this.

A few minutes later, another message arrived.

I’m free this morning.

Didn’t we agree to visit Mrs. Bellamy after the wedding?

Mrs. Bellamy had been my first teacher at Vale Atelier.

Seven years ago, she was the first person who told me I should stop repairing other women’s dresses and start putting my own name on my work.

She liked Adrian.

She used to say that a man willing to wait outside my studio until midnight could not be entirely heartless.

I looked at the screen and did not reply.

Still, I changed clothes and went to her workshop.

Not to give Adrian another chance.

Only to give seven years a proper ending.

At nine, I sat across from Mrs. Bellamy.

She had prepared tea and scones. A narrow gift box rested beside the tray.

“Where is Adrian?”

“Probably stuck in traffic.”

Mrs. Bellamy smiled.

“The first time he came here with you, he looked like a loaded gun. I thought you had lost your mind, loving a man like that.”

She adjusted her glasses.

“Then I saw him wait outside for four hours. When you came downstairs, he put his coat over your shoulders and walked to the car in the rain.”

“That was when I thought perhaps this Don had a heart.”

I lowered my eyes.

At nine thirty, Adrian had not arrived.

At ten, his call finally came.

Thunder sounded in the background. So did Livia’s crying.

“Elena, are you there?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. Livia is terrified of storms. Thunder hit a few minutes ago, and she locked herself in the bathroom.”

His voice was tense.

“I can’t leave right now. Apologize to Mrs. Bellamy for me. We’ll visit her together next time.”

I said nothing.

On his side of the line, Livia sobbed his name.

“Adrian, I’m scared…”

“I’m here.”

His voice softened at once.

Then he returned to me.

“Elena, don’t make this difficult right now.”

“Livia is unstable. I don’t have the mind for anything else.”

The call ended.

Mrs. Bellamy looked at me.

“What happened, child?”

I held the teacup. Tears still fell.

“Mrs. Bellamy, I don’t want Adrian anymore.”

She did not ask why.

She only pushed the gift box toward me.

Inside was an old pair of shears. The handle was worn smooth, but the blades had been kept sharp.

“I used these when I was young,” she said. “I meant to give them to you after your wedding.”

I closed the box.

“You still can.”

After leaving Mrs. Bellamy’s workshop, I did not return to Vale Atelier.

I went to the station.

Three days earlier, I had received an email from a natural-dye workshop in Santa Fe. They had accepted me for a residency. A room and a temporary worktable were already arranged.

Back then, I had not decided whether to go.

Now there was nothing left to decide.

While waiting for the train, I opened the family chat.

Adrian had posted a video.

Livia sat on the sofa at Southbank House, wrapped in a wool blanket, holding a cup of warm milk.

Adrian sat behind her, drying her hair.

The caption read:

Taking care of a patient. Hope the storm passes soon.

A line of relatives had liked it.

My mother commented:

Adrian is a good man. We can trust him with Livia.

My aunt added:

This is what family looks like.

I read the words and left the chat.

Then I deleted Adrian and blocked every relative.

Finally, I took out my SIM card and dropped it into the trash.

The boarding announcement came.

I carried one suitcase onto the platform.

At eight that night, Adrian finally left Livia and went to Vale Atelier.

He carried a box of hazelnut cake.

It had once been my favorite dessert.

He pushed open the door.

“Elena, I came to apologize.”

The atelier was empty.

The wedding sketches had been removed from the walls. Half the storage cabinets stood open. On the table lay only a torn draft of the black eagle crest.

Adrian stopped at the entrance.

The cake box slowly lowered in his hand.