The next day, Luca took me to see the new house.

It was the lake villa prepared for the alliance, with pale stone walls, electronic gates, and Moretti security. I walked toward the front passenger seat, and Luca caught my wrist. "Wrong seat, sweetheart. That's Bianca's."

Bianca stepped out onto the porch right on cue. Luca opened the door for her with a naturalness. "She's been thinking about buying a quiet place for her foundation archives. She'll come look with us."

I sat in the back. "Sure."

Luca and Bianca discussed charity auctions and political donors as if I weren't behind them. I watched their profiles and understood that I had never been in the back seat. I had been in the margin.

Bianca fell in love with the upstairs master bedroom because it faced the lake sunrise. She stood by the glass with shining eyes. "The light is perfect. My paper files wouldn't warp here."

Luca answered without hesitation. "Then it's yours. Come stay whenever you want. I'll have the designer turn it into your private archive room."

I stood at the doorway and curled my fingers into my palm. Luca had never joined one meeting about this house. Now he stood beside Bianca, planning a room that should have been ours. They looked like the real couple.

Bianca turned to me with a sweet smile. "Elena, you don't mind if I use this room, right?"

I looked at Luca. "You know this is the master bedroom for the wedding, don't you?"

His eyes stayed calm. "Master is just a word. Bianca's archives need this environment. You can choose another room. The one downstairs is nice. It's close to the garage."

I released my aching palm. "Do whatever you want."

Luca touched my head. "That's my Elena."

I moved away from his hand. He didn't notice.

After the villa, the bridal salon called Luca and said my three wedding dresses were ready for fitting. Bianca linked her arm through mine. "I'll help you check them. You shouldn't always wear black. You need something brighter for your wedding."

She sounded exactly like a caring sister.

I had just put on the ivory satin reception gown when Bianca took a call and came back looking worried. "Oh no. My gown for tonight was ruined at the dry cleaner. I have to meet a senator's wife for the foundation, and I can't find anything suitable."

Luca scanned the boutique. "Then pick one here."

The staff brought several dresses. He rejected them all. At last, his gaze landed on me. "This one works. Bianca has cool undertones. It'll look clean on her. Give it to her first."

The stylist couldn't help herself. "Mr. Moretti, this is Miss Elena's reception gown. She came in more than twenty times for the waist detail."

Luca looked at me like the problem did not exist. In his mind, Bianca needed it, so Bianca got it.

I looked at myself in the mirror and felt the pain go quiet. When hurt reaches the end, the heart becomes strangely clear.

I changed out of the dress and handed it to Bianca. "Take it. You'll look beautiful."

Luca looked surprised. Then his face softened. "That's better. I'll help you choose something nicer."

He said it, but his eyes stayed on Bianca. He crouched and arranged every fold of her skirt with careful fingers.

I had once imagined that scene for myself. I had come here more than twenty times. Luca came once, stared at casino accounts, and said staff should handle hems because they were paid for it.

Now I watched him kneel at Bianca's feet and tasted the price of my fantasy.

Everyone loved Bianca more. My parents did. Luca did. Still, I had loved him once.

When we were little and my mother called me slow in front of guests, Luca slipped a mint candy into my hand. "Slow isn't bad, Elena. You're cute when you're quiet."

I hid that sentence in my heart for years.

When Bianca refused the alliance and Luca came to me, I knew I was his second answer. I still took his hand. I wanted too badly to know what being chosen felt like.

To stay beside him, I became his assistant and learned contracts, casino flows, and informant lists. I still never became Bianca.

My phone buzzed.

[The studio is ready. Your ticket is for late on the wedding night. The car will wait near the hotel service entrance.]

I typed back.

[Okay.]

Luca pulled a black cocktail dress from the rack and handed it to me. "Elena, just choose something. Bianca has plans tonight. Don't hold her up. This one is simple. It suits you."

Black again. Suitable again.

I took the dress I would never wear and felt perfectly calm. When a woman decides to leave, she doesn't always scream. Sometimes she simply stops fighting for scraps.

That night, when we returned to the Bellini estate for dinner, I remembered it was my birthday.

It was Bianca's birthday too.

Luca ordered the cake. He set the box in the middle of the table and smiled. "You two share a birthday, so one cake is enough. Convenient, isn't it?"

The cake was beautiful, covered in pistachio crumbs and hazelnut cream. Bianca loved pistachio. I was allergic to nuts.

No one saw anything wrong.

Luca put candles in the cake and settled a silver birthday crown on Bianca's hair. "Bianca makes the first wish."

I looked at the nut cake, the crown, and the soft smile on Luca's face. "Luca. You used to prepare two of everything. Why is there only one cake?"

The dining room went still.

"Why am I always the last one to choose?"

Luca frowned. "It's been this way for years. Why are you nitpicking every little thing today?"

My mother gave me a cold look. "She is your older sister, and she has always been better. If you had half her talent, you could blow the candles first."

I suddenly had no words. Not because I had nothing to say, but because I finally knew they would never understand.

Bianca closed her eyes and made her wish. Everyone sang for her. Luca's voice was low and warm.

By the time it was my turn, the candles had burned down to short stubs. Luca glanced at them and said, "There are no extra candles. A wish is just a formality. Elena can do it next year."

For more than twenty years, it had always been next year. I had never reached that year. Does a child who doesn't shine enough really not deserve to be loved properly, even once?

A maid brought me a corner that hadn't touched the nuts. Then the conversation shifted to the wedding.

My mother asked me, "How are the banquet plans?"

Before I could answer, she turned to Luca. "Your guests are political people and family friends. Bianca's refugee children's program could use the wedding for exposure."

Luca nodded without a second thought. "No problem. We'll cancel the part where Elena and I talk about our love story. Bianca can present the foundation instead."

Bianca lifted a hand at once. "No, don't cancel anything. I'll only say a few words. I don't want to steal Elena's wedding."

Luca looked at her seriously. "If you're going to speak, do it properly. I'll arrange the projector, donation code, and media angle."

It was my wedding. They were turning it into a Bellini Foundation fundraiser, and not one person asked whether I wanted it.

That was fine. The wedding wouldn't happen anyway.

I couldn't breathe in that room, so I claimed I was dizzy and went upstairs. Downstairs, Luca and my parents watched Bianca's award livestream with held breath.

I packed my things. There wasn't much to take. Most things in that house were Bianca's castoffs. I packed my sketchbook and my leather knife.

When I zipped the small bag, cheers exploded downstairs. Bianca had won.

I heard my mother scream, my father clap, and Luca say, "I knew you could do it."

Then Bianca complained in a sweet, wounded voice. "But the ceremony is on Elena's wedding day. You'll all be with her. I'll be on that stage alone."

The living room went quiet for one second.

Then Luca said, "You won't be alone."

Someone knocked on my door.

Luca stood outside and spoke as if he were asking for a minor favor. "Elena, Bianca's award only happens once. It starts at ten, and the press will be everywhere. She can't handle it alone."

I looked at him. "So?"

"Can we move our wedding to the evening? We'll skip the pickup and family toasts and go straight to the banquet."

I almost laughed. How many times did he think a wedding happened in a lifetime?

A maid downstairs muttered, "First weddings don't happen at night in Chicago. That sounds like a makeup wedding."

My mother snapped, "Nonsense. It's a modern world. Don't bring old wives' tales into this."

Luca stepped into my room. His eyes were gentle and certain. "Elena, is that okay? You're the understanding one."

I looked at him and remembered a day from childhood. I once won second prize in an art show, but my parents went to Bianca's violin solo. Luca promised he would come, then went to Bianca's concert too. I stood alone on the stage, facing other people's parents and applause.

Now I was still alone. "Fine. Move it to the evening."

It’ll save me the trouble of coming up with an excuse to delay the wedding.

After my answer, they completely relaxed. Celebration resumed downstairs. Laughter rose again and again, and champagne corks popped like distant gunshots.

Late that night, Luca got drunk. He leaned against the terrace rail with his tie loose. The Chicago wind carried the cold of the lake between us.

I asked, "Luca, are you looking forward to our wedding?"

He didn't answer.

"Why did you confess to me back then?"

I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from him. I needed the final sentence of my own verdict.

When he finally spoke, his voice was drunk and cruel. "I didn't plan to treat you badly. You're quiet and obedient. You stay where I leave you. Bianca is different. If something happens to her, both families get dragged in."

"So she'll always matter more. Is that it?"

Luca looked into the distance. "I thought you understood. Elena, you've always been reasonable."

The wind stung my eyes.

The truth was worse than I had imagined. Maybe he did love me a little. He loved the version of me who waited in the back and never made him choose. But the moment Bianca reached out, he put me down.

On the wedding morning, the Bellini estate woke before dawn.

Everyone prepared for Bianca's ceremony. My mother chose her pearls, my father checked the convoy, and Luca reviewed Bianca's speech.

I came downstairs fully dressed. "I won't go to the ceremony. The wedding hotel still needs me."

Luca didn't look up. He was fastening Bianca's bracelet. "Fine. Go ahead and don't neglect the guests. We'll come after this ends."

I carried one small bag to the wedding hotel. No one walked me to the door.

The driver asked, "Miss Elena, should I wait for Mr. Moretti's convoy?"

I looked at the gray-blue morning sky and smiled politely. "No. He has somewhere more important to be."

At the hotel, the bridal suite smelled of roses and expensive hairspray. I dressed alone, fastened my own veil, and walked into a ballroom filled with Moretti men, Bellini cousins, and political guests who immediately understood the groom was missing.

Whispers moved under the crystal chandeliers. Some people pitied me. Some enjoyed the show. I stood beneath the white floral arch and accepted every stare without lowering my head.

The promised hour came and went. Luca's place beside me stayed empty. Then my phone buzzed.

[Bianca has too much press here. I'll be late. If guests ask, just smile for me. Be good.]

I read the message twice. Then I laughed softly, because the last thing he gave me was still an instruction to wait.

I took off the Moretti engagement ring, the ring that had marked me as his woman for a year, and laid it on the guest book.

The planner whispered, "Miss Bellini, Mr. Moretti will be here soon."

"No," I said. "He won't."

A sharp crack split the ballroom before anyone could answer. The glass wall behind the arch burst inward, and the chandeliers swung as screams swallowed the music.

Someone shouted the Rossettis' name. Moretti guards reached for their guns. I saw white roses scatter across the floor like torn paper.

Then the room went white.

...

Luca's convoy tore away from Bianca's award ceremony.

He sat in the back seat while Bianca's silver trophy case knocked against his knee. He had already typed another message to Elena, then deleted it because he was sure she would be waiting.

His phone rang before the hotel came into view.

"Put Elena on," Luca said the moment he answered. "Tell her I'm almost there. Have her hold the ceremony for ten more minutes."

No one answered him. Screaming filled the line, followed by a hard blast that made the speaker crackle.

"Boss!" Marco, one of his captains, shouted over the chaos. "The Rossettis hit the ballroom. It was an ambush. They came through the lake-side glass."

Luca's blood went cold. "Where is Elena?"

"The strike team was aiming for your entrance, but you weren't here. She was under the arch when it started. Her status is unknown!"

For one second, Luca couldn't breathe.