No More Leftovers

When Luca Moretti chose the jewelry for our wedding, he still bought two pieces and let my twin sister Bianca choose first.

One was a ruby cuff from a Sicilian auction. The other was an off-the-rack black onyx bracelet, the kind sold in every mall jewelry store.

For the first time, I reached before Bianca could. I pointed at the ruby cuff. "This time, can I choose first?"

Luca set his palm on my head with the easy affection he used to make me behave. "Bianca has always been stubborn about quality. If it's not the best, she won't take it. You don't care about this stuff, Elena. The other piece isn't bad."

I didn't answer right away. Something inside my chest went quiet.

In my own family, Bianca always got the first slice, the clean seat, and the room with the view. My mother said she needed the best because she carried the Bellini name better. My father called it practical.

Marriage worked that way too. The Bellinis and Morettis had promised one daughter to the Moretti heir long before either of us knew what love was.

Everyone assumed that daughter would be Bianca. Instead, she made her position crystal clear: she'd rather keep her freedom and her spotless public image than become Mrs. Moretti.

So Luca turned to the remaining Bellini daughter. I had known Luca for twenty years, and in his world, I always stood behind Bianca.

I looked at the black onyx bracelet on the table and pushed it back. "Bianca can have both. I'm not choosing."

I didn't want another leftover choice. Not anymore.

Luca frowned. "Elena, that bracelet doesn't deserve your sister."

I looked him straight in the eyes. "Then why does it deserve me?"

He froze for half a second, then smiled. "When you two were little, everyone said you looked like Bianca's shadow. Ruby is too loud on you. Black suits you. Quiet. Easy."

A shadow.

Bianca and I were twins, but from the day we were born, everyone treated me like a dim copy that had no business standing beside her. Bianca stayed first in school. I studied until my eyes burned and still hovered in the middle. I carried her bags, fixed her gowns, and heard people call me "the shadow" for ten years.

I told Luca more than once that I hated the name, and every time, he said, "Okay. I won't say it again." But whenever Bianca was in the room, those words slid out of his mouth like a quiet knife.

I looked at Luca calmly. "Let's break up."

Luca gave me that coaxing smile. "Enough. If you don't like the bracelet, we'll pick something else. Don't throw the word breakup around. The wedding is in a week."

"I'm not throwing anything around."

Bianca pushed the ruby cuff toward me. "Elena, take mine. You're getting married soon. Don't make Luca look bad over a little thing."

Luca stopped her. "I bought that cuff for you. Elena can't carry a piece like that. Giving it to her would be a waste."

So the choice had been fake from the beginning. Luca had already saved the best for Bianca, and I had only been asked to wait for a respectable leftover.

I pulled my hand free and turned to leave. Luca followed with a tired sigh. "Fine. I'll take you shopping. You can choose whatever you want. Happy?"

We had barely reached the luxury wing downstairs when Bianca stopped at the fragrance counter. "I want to try the new cedar scent. It might work for the foundation dinner."

Luca nodded at once. "Then we'll do that first. Elena can wait."

Bianca tried scents until she couldn't decide. Luca bought both and handed me the one she didn't plan to use first. "There. You got a gift too. Bianca has great taste. You should be happy."

I didn't take the bag. I didn't want to hold anything someone else had already picked over. "I'll move my things out of your penthouse tonight. I won't come back."

His hand froze in midair. The smile finally left his face. "Elena, enough."

That night, Luca dragged my parents into the Moretti penthouse before I could pack a single drawer. My mother grabbed my wrist hard enough to twist the skin and yanked me toward the living room. "Have you lost your mind? The wedding is one week away, and you're talking about breaking up? Men like Luca don't grow on trees."

My father, Enzo, slammed his cane against the marble so hard the sound cracked through the room. "The Bellini-Moretti alliance is not a stage for your tantrums." He caught my chin and forced me to meet his eyes. "You don't have Bianca's looks or Bianca's brain. Marrying into the Moretti family is luck you haven't earned."

In the past, I would have swallowed every word and hoped obedience might earn a little pity. Tonight, I only watched them.

Luca stepped in front of me and smoothed everything over with a laugh. "Please don't say that. Elena is a good girl. She's just nervous before the wedding."

My mother looked at him with instant approval. "See? Luca is still defending you. Where else will you find a man this good?"

I almost laughed. Everyone expected me to be grateful that Luca was willing to marry a woman he always placed second.

"If you insist on breaking it off," my mother said, "don't call me Mom again."

The room went quiet.

I drew a breath and nodded. "Okay."

They all relaxed. They thought I had finally been pushed back into place.

I went to my room and pulled out my old leather design sketchbook. Bianca called craft pointless, and Luca told me to learn casino accounting instead, so I spent years studying shell companies, contracts, ledgers, and clean ways to move dirty money.

I worked hard, but no one truly saw me. They only saw that I was not Bianca. For more than twenty years, I had been shoved into a life that never belonged to me.

I called Aria, my only real friend. She ran an antique leather restoration studio in Savannah. By the time she picked up, tears had slid down my face without a sound. "Aria, do you still need an assistant restorer?"

Aria went so quiet I thought the call had dropped. "Elena, you're getting married in a few days."

"I know."

"You've loved Luca since we were kids. You gave up design school for his books, learned his ledgers, and let his family swallow you whole. Are you seriously walking away from all of that?"

I looked out at the Chicago night. "Yes, I've made up my mind."

For a second, Aria only breathed. Then her voice turned fierce. "Good. Then I'm not talking you out of it. The earliest seat I can get leaves late on your wedding night, and I'll have a car waiting near the hotel."

I closed my eyes and smiled. "Then God already picked my leaving day."