I'm the De Luca family's dirty little secret, their bastard daughter. And I was stupid enough to fall for Marco Moretti, the heir to our rivals.

On our wedding day, my sister, Isabella, drugged me.

When I woke up, she was wearing my dress. Standing at the altar. Becoming his wife.

Heartbroken, I ran to a bar to drown my sorrow. And that’s where I discovered I was pregnant.

Marco held me, crying. He swore he loved me, only me.

He promised he’d divorce Isabella as soon as our child was born.

But on the day I gave birth, Isabella murdered us both. Me and my baby.

That’s when I finally understood. Marco would always choose a true-blooded princess of the Cosa Nostra.

And me? The bastard? I was just a loose end. A problem to be erased.

Then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back on the day she drugged me. Their wedding day.

This time, I'm not marrying the heir. I'm marrying the Don.

But first... I'm going to ruin this wedding.

On the wedding day, my sister, Isabella De Luca, drugged me. She was going to steal my dress and marry my fiancé, the mafia heir Marco Moretti.

Everyone was smiling at the happy couple on the altar.

Everyone but me. I shot up from my seat in the back row. My voice tore through the sacred silence.

"Stop! I object! This wedding is a sham!"

Every head turned to face me.

The bride, Isabella, went white. The groom, Marco, froze.

The priest looked at me, confused. "Miss, who are you?"

"I'm Elara De Luca." I walked to the altar, staring straight at Marco. "I'm the woman he proposed to three months ago."

A ripple of shock went through the pews.

Isabella clutched Marco’s arm. "What are you talking about? I'm Marco's fiancée."

I sneered. "Really? Then where'd you get that ring on your finger?"

Isabella’s eyes shot to the ring on her finger.

Marco had picked it out for me. A three-carat diamond on a platinum band.

"Marco gave it to me!" Isabella shrieked.

The memory of his betrayal hit me like a punch. My past life...

I was the family's bastard daughter.

My mother was my father's first love.

He married another for duty, but he couldn't keep his hands off my mother.

He promised he'd marry her after his wife died, making her his mistress.

And then there was me.

All I ever wanted was a real family, for my father to see me as his own.

But he never would. A bastard was a stain on the family's honor.

I didn't know who Marco was when we met. The heir to the Moretti family.

We were just a normal couple in love.

He proposed. He promised me the home I never had.

But in the end, he threw me away for power. For my sister, Isabella.

In my past life, I cried after the wedding. I begged Marco to come back. I kneeled and pleaded with my father to help me.

They both told me the same thing. The Moretti family only marries real mafia princesses. And that was Isabella.

I confronted Isabella. “You fought tooth and nail against your own arranged marriage for Lucas. So why steal my fiancé?”

She slapped me across the face.

“I broke up with that asshole,” she sneered. “And you? You don’t deserve a marriage this good.”

Heartbroken, I left. I was about to get drunk when I found out I was pregnant.

I went to Marco. I asked him what we were going to do.

He held me, kissing me like he wanted to melt into me.

"I'm sorry, Elara. My mother, Sofia, she insisted. She made me marry Isabella. But you're the one I love. We're keeping this baby. Just give me an heir, and I swear I'll divorce Isabella."

I believed him.

For our future, I stayed away from real hospitals. Too many prying eyes. Too many questions.

The day came. I was on a surgical table in a private clinic.

The nurse pulled down her mask. It was Isabella, wearing a triumphant smirk.

She injected something into my IV.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be dead soon. The doctors will say you died from postpartum hemorrhage. As for the baby, it’s your honor that I’m letting him become the future Moretti heir.”

Cold liquid entered my veins, and I felt my life slipping away.

Marco pushed the door open.

He looked at me dying on the table, with no trace of sadness in his eyes.

He held Isabella, a mocking look on his face.

“If Isabella hadn’t become infertile after her miscarriage with Lucas’s baby, I wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble to have you give birth to this child.”

Only then did I know I was always just a stand-in.

All along, Marco had only ever wanted to be with Isabella.

“Elara! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Marco’s voice snapped me back to the present.

I looked at him. The pain and despair of my past life were gone, replaced by a bone-deep chill.

I thought of the text message I received right after I woke up.

[I can marry you, but you must turn Marco’s wedding into a complete mess.]

A cold smile touched my lips as I spoke.

“Three months ago, in the rose garden, you knelt before me and said I was the only one. You said your heart only had room for me.”

Marco’s face twisted. "Elara, don't make a scene."

"A scene?" I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. I turned to the stunned guests. "Oh, this is more than a scene. This is a story about a liar, a thief, and a man who is about to marry the wrong sister."

Isabella finally snapped. "Elara, you're insane! Guards! Get her out of my sight!"

"Not so fast, dear sister." I walked right up to her. "I'm not done. You want to know how Isabella got this ring? She drugged me, stole my ring, and tried to steal my future."

"You're lying!" Isabella screamed.

"Am I?" I pulled a small vial from my purse. "Then what's this? Sleeping pills. Found in your room. With your fingerprints all over them."

It was a bluff, of course.

But her face drained of color. Her body started to shake.

I held up the vial, my voice rising. "This morning, my own sister brought me a cup of tea. To celebrate my big day, she said."

"I drank it, and the world went black. When I woke up, I was locked in a hotel room."

"And my wedding dress, my ring, my groom—she'd stolen them all!"

The guests started whispering.

"If that's true, that's just awful."

"How could a sister do that?"

Isabella panicked. "You lie! I didn't drug you! That vial isn't mine!"

I pointed at her hand. "Marco. Tell them. Who did you give this ring to three months ago?"

All eyes went to Marco.

Sweat beaded on his forehead.

Just then, my father stormed onto the altar. "That's enough! Elara, stop this circus right now!"

He snatched the vial from my hand and smashed it on the floor.

Here he comes. The next character in my script has arrived.

"My apologies for this disruption." Father addressed the guests, his voice dangerously calm. "My daughter, Elara... she isn't well. She has a history of... fantasies. Delusions."

"Dad!" I put on a look of perfect shock. "How could you say that?"

"Because it's the truth!" his voice was cold. "Isabella has been Marco's fiancée since they were children. It was an arrangement between our families. A bastard has no place in this union."

Marco finally found his voice. "I'm sorry you all had to see this."

He pulled out a few photos and held them up for everyone.

"These are photos of me and Isabella. We've been together since we were sixteen."

In the photos, a young Marco had his arm around Isabella's waist. They were kissing.

"Elara was jealous of her sister, so she made up these lies," Marco continued. "She even stole Isabella's ring to pretend she was my fiancée."

A wave of gasps went through the pews.

"Oh, I see now."

"That poor Isabella."

"A bastard's jealousy is a dangerous thing."

I felt their stares, a mix of pity and disgust.

But the pity wasn't for me. It was for Isabella.

"Those photos are fake!" I lunged for them. "You're all in on it! You're framing me!"

"Elara, get a grip." Marco stepped back. "A bastard could never be the lady of the Moretti family. You should know your place."

My father grabbed my arm. "Enough! You've shamed this family enough!"

He dragged me to the side, hissing in my ear. "I'll give you half a million dollars. Get out of New York and never come back."

"I don't want your money!" I ripped my arm away. "I want the truth!"

"The truth?" Father sneered. "The truth is you're a bastard who doesn't know her place! Isabella is my real daughter!"

"And what about me?" My voice started to tremble on purpose. "What am I?"

"You?" My father stared at me, his eyes empty of love. "You were a mistake. A ghost I should have buried long ago. You never should have been born."

Marco walked back to the priest. "Sorry about that. Let's continue. Isabella and I need to sign the marriage certificate."

"No!" I ran forward. "I'm his fiancée!"

But my performance did nothing to stop them.

If anything, it pushed them to seal the deal faster.

Perfect.

Marco and Isabella walked to the signing table.

The lawyer had the certificate ready.

Isabella picked up the pen, shot me a victorious look, and signed her name.

Marco signed his.

The priest announced, "I now pronounce Marco Moretti and Isabella De Luca husband and wife."

I let a single, perfect tear roll down my cheek. “But Isabella… what about Lucas? I thought you were carrying his baby?”

I watched them both go rigid, a poison dart, perfectly aimed.

Whispers erupted through the church as the guests turned on Isabella, their eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Another man’s child? Is she trying to pollute the Moretti bloodline?!”

Isabella snapped. She stormed over to me.

Her hand swung up, and the crack of her palm against my cheek echoed through the hall.

“You shut your mouth! What nonsense are you talking!”

The slap echoed through the silent church.

My cheek burned, but I didn't flinch.

Isabella's eyes were full of venom and victory. "Now do you know your place?"

The moment the slap landed, her expression crumbled. Tears welled in her eyes as she turned to the sobbing guests.

"I'm so sorry, everyone. I just... I couldn't take it anymore." Her voice cracked. "The truth is... my father only took Elara and her mother in because I begged him to. She's a bastard. She has no right to the De Luca name, much less a place in our home. But after she moved in, she tried to take everything from me."

She squeezed out a few more tears, sounding even more pitiful.

"She even started imagining my fiancé was hers!"

I stared at her, stunned. When did she get so good at lying?

"Three months ago, she got on her knees and begged me," Isabella sobbed. "She asked if she could borrow my engagement ring, just for a few days. I felt sorry for her, so I said yes. And now... now she's twisting the story, using my ring as proof that she's engaged to Marco. As for the baby, it’s a complete lie. I belong only to Marco!"

People in the crowd were nodding. "Ah, so that's what happened."

"No wonder she made such a scene."

My mind flashed to the evidence I’d received this morning, delivered with that cryptic text.

Evidence of their affair. Of Marco conspiring against his own family, all for a woman.

I burned my gaze into Isabella.

Soon, that triumphant smile would be wiped off her face for good.

Isabella hid behind Marco. "Marco, I'm scared. The way she's looking at me is terrifying."

Marco immediately wrapped his arms around her. "It's okay. I'll protect you."

He glared at me, his eyes filled with disgust. "Elara, you've lost your mind. Do you have any idea how much stress Isabella has been under trying to help you?"

"I've lost my mind?" I laughed. “Marco, you betrayed your own blood for a woman like this. For her, you cost this family…”

I let the accusation hang in the air, unfinished. A powerful female voice sliced through the tension.

"Enough!"

Marco's mother, Sofia Moretti, was on her feet.

"Elara De Luca, you have shamed my son enough." Sofia walked onto the altar. "Someone take this crazy woman away. Lock her in the cellar until she comes to her senses."

A few guards in black suits started walking toward me.

"Mrs. Moretti, are you sure about this?" I didn't fight. I just looked at her calmly. "Locking up a guest in your cellar... if word of this gets out, it could hurt Marco's reputation."

"Reputation?" Sofia sneered. "You're the one hurting his reputation! A bastard, making a scene at a Moretti wedding?"

"I'm just taking back what's mine," I said, my voice even. "It would be a shame if Marco's position as heir was questioned because he couldn't handle one woman."

Sofia's face darkened. "Are you threatening me?"

"I'm just stating a fact," I smiled. "After all, there are others in the family with their eyes on the heir's seat."

That was all it took.

"Insolent bitch! You dare threaten my son's future?" Sofia's voice was pure venom. "Guards! Get this filth out of my sight. Take her to the docks and feed her to the fishes!"

The church went dead silent.

Everyone was shocked. Ordering a hit at a wedding was insane.

But this was exactly what I needed.

This was the plan.

The longer I dragged out this farce, the more time Don Dante had to secure the final piece of evidence—the nail in Marco’s and his mother’s coffin.

Every insult, every blow they landed on me, was just another minute for Dante’s victory.

Just as the guards were about to grab me, a figure rushed out.

"No! Please, don't hurt my daughter!"

It was my mother.

A jolt of shock went through me.

What was she doing here?

Isabella smirked, her eyes cold and calculating.

I realized then: I’d stalled for too long. The script had changed. And Isabella had just played a new, cruel card…

She wore a simple grey dress, and she stumbled onto the altar.

My mother hit her knees. The thud echoed on the cold, marble floor right in front of Sofia.

"Mrs. Moretti, I'm begging you, please spare Elara! She's young, she doesn't know any better. I'll apologize for her!"

"Mom, get up!" I tried to reach her, but the guards held me back.

My mother remained on her knees, her sobs the only sound in the cavernous church.

"Mrs. Moretti, it's my fault. I didn't raise her right. Please, forgive her this once."

Sofia looked down on my kneeling mother without a hint of pity.

Marco and Isabella just stood there, watching coldly.

Isabella leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper only I could hear. "See?" she smirked. "Even your own mother knows you're worthless."