Dante Falcone had decided he would make me his wife.

To win my heart, he pursued me relentlessly for years.

But on the eve of our wedding, I overheard him talking with his family's Consigliere.

"You're just going to marry Ava Rossi like that? What about that lover you've been hiding for three years?"

Dante paused. "She means nothing. She can't hold a candle to Ava."

"If she knows her place, I might keep her on the side. And Ava is generous. She'll learn to share."

The next day, that woman, Isabella, made a spectacle of herself at our wedding.

When Isabella shoved me off the stage, Dante dove to protect her without a second thought.

All because she was pressing a gun to her own temple, wailing, "Choose me or her?"

Blinded by panic, Dante shoved me aside and roared, "Move! I have to get her out of here!"

"If anything happens to her, I'll hold you responsible!"

In that moment, whatever love I had for him shattered.

That night, I bought a one-way ticket and left him for good.

————————

1

"Can't you sign your own damn consent form, Ava? Why are you calling me over something so minor?"

"Did you break a bone just to get my attention? I'm spread thin as it is, so knock it off!"

Dante's voice, laced with barely concealed fury and impatience, crackled through the phone.

Ever since Isabella had made that scene at the wedding, he had vanished with her for half the day.

This was the twentieth time I had called him.

He had hung up on the previous nineteen.

A chill ran down my spine at his indifference. "But Isabella was the one who pushed me," I pleaded.

"The doctor said a family member has to sign. You're already at our family's hospital—can't you spare five minutes to come downstairs?"

The line went dead.

Resigned, I sighed. "Just bring me the form. I'll sign it."

But the family doctor hesitated. "Perhaps you should try contacting Mr. Falcone again? Maybe he didn't quite grasp the extent of your injuries?"

"Just yesterday, he put the entire staff on alert. He said if Isabella made a scene and you were hurt, we were to prioritize your treatment above all else."

"In the past, Mr. Falcone would call in the entire medical team for a simple cold and would sit by your bedside himself."

"If he knew you had a broken bone—and that Isabella was the one who hurt you—he'd lose his mind. You're everything to him."

A bitter smile touched my lips. I used to think I was the one he loved most, too.

But now, it seemed that was no longer the case.

At my insistence, the doctor finally handed over the consent form, and I signed it myself.

Until the last possible moment before surgery, I clung to a sliver of hope, waiting for him to appear.

Instead, all I got was a photo from Isabella.

In the picture, Dante was on one knee, meticulously bandaging a minor scrape on her wrist. The background was unmistakably the Moretti family estate.

The caption read: "You said my three years of devotion were your greatest blessing and that you’d spend the rest of your life repaying me."

Isabella was smiling blissfully.

It was hard to believe that just a few days ago, Dante had publicly humiliated her for my sake.

Isabella had cornered my car, jabbing a finger in my face and screaming through her tears.

"I've been Dante's secret for three years! I gave him everything! And he tells me you're the only woman he sees a future with? What gives you the right?"

"I tried to be more like you—I even made him soup—and he slapped me! He said I couldn't hold a candle to you and called me delusional."

Her emotions had spiraled. "He called me a toy to play with when he was bored and told me to get lost the second he married you. Ava Rossi, why did you have to exist? Wouldn't it have been better for everyone if you'd just died in Europe?"

At the time, Dante had been furious that she had offended me and had her dragged away without an ounce of mercy.

His eyes were cold with disgust as he stared her down. "We sleep together. That's it. Don't you ever bother Ava again. You dare curse her? Are you insane? If you want to die so badly, be my guest."

"Ava is mine. My eyes are for her and her alone."

But today, at our wedding, he rushed to Isabella's side without a second thought, pulling her into his arms like she was a priceless treasure he was terrified of losing.

My surgery was quick. I had just regained consciousness as the anesthesia wore off when Dante burst into my hospital room.

I thought his conscience had finally kicked in. But the first thing he did was storm in, yank my hand—the one with the IV drip—from under the covers, and inspect it roughly.

When he didn't find what he was looking for, his voice dripped with fury.

"Ava, where's the ring? Give it to me. Now."

He seized my wrist, and a sharp pain shot through my fractured arm.

But I didn't answer him right away. Instead, I asked, "What do you want my ring for?"

I had poured my heart and soul into designing that ring. It was meant to be the symbol of our love.

"Isabella likes it. She wants us to have matching ones."

"Just let her borrow it. It's only a ring. It barely has any diamonds; it's not like it's worth a fortune."

As he spoke, he spotted the ring on the bedside table, snatched it up without a second thought, and turned to leave.

Forgetting my broken arm, I lunged for it, my hand clamping over his. "Give it back!"

Dante glared at me, his eyes full of disappointment. "Ava, I thought you were magnanimous. When did you become so petty? Don't make a scene over something so trivial."

I said, "If you take that ring, I will walk out of your life and never look back."

Dante froze.

His hand shot to my throat. "What did you just say?" he growled, his voice tight.

"You can't survive a single day without me, don't you know that?"

"I won't allow you to leave me!"

I met his gaze, my heart turning to ice. "But Dante, you're the one who chose Isabella over me."

Dante buried his face in the crook of my neck, clinging to me like a drowning man. "It's not like that. I just feel sorry for her. She was hysterical, threatening to kill herself. I had to calm her down first; I had no other choice."

"Once she's stable, I'll be back. We'll get married, with this ring. You're the only one for me. You have to believe me."

Looking at Dante's frantic expression, I slowly nodded. "Okay."

Only then did he let out a long sigh of relief and leave, reassured.

But he took the ring with him.

I picked up my phone and called Leo, my contact in Europe.

"Can you reach out to the boss for me? I want to come back to my old position."

The voice on the other end was cheerful. "Really? Our boss was devastated when you left. He'll be ecstatic to have you back. I'll confirm with him right now."

"But... aren't you getting married? Will it be a problem if your husband comes looking for you?"

I almost made an excuse for Dante, but the thought was so laughable I stopped myself.

"He's dead to me," I said flatly. "He won't be a problem."

After hanging up, I checked myself out of the hospital and went home to recover.

Isabella's social media became a running commentary on their love story.

I saw posts of Dante taking her to galas, buying her priceless jewelry.

I saw them appearing everywhere together, a picture-perfect couple.

I saw an interview clip. Isabella, beaming, said, "After three years in the shadows, we can finally be together in the light."

Dante shared it. A moment later, the post vanished—he must have been afraid I'd see it.

As if to cover his tracks, he reposted the invitation to his mother Carmela's sixtieth birthday.

Before the wedding, Dante had made a point of telling me about it, insisting I had to be there to celebrate with them as his wife.

His mother, Carmela, had taken my hand and personally invited me.

Though the wedding never happened, I still went to his mother's home with a gift.

But when I pushed open the door, I walked into a scene I never expected.

The whole family was there, the banquet in full swing.

Isabella sat at the head of the table, flanked by Dante and his mother, Carmela. She was the undeniable center of attention.

Carmela was telling her, "You've lost weight. You must eat more."

Dante glanced at his mother. "Mamma, she’s picky. She won't peel her own shrimp."

Despite the complaint in his tone, he deftly plucked a shrimp from the platter, peeled it, and placed it right in her mouth.

I stood frozen in the doorway, an unwelcome ghost.

Suddenly, a guest spotted me. "Ava?"

Dante's head snapped in my direction, his expression souring instantly. "What are you doing here? I don't remember my mother inviting you!"

He didn't wait for an answer, just grabbed my arm and started dragging me outside.

His grip on my still-healing arm was brutal, and I stumbled, trying to wrench free. "Let go. I can walk on my own."

But his tone was glacial. "I don't know what game you're playing, Ava, but no one invited you to my mother's birthday."

"If you're here to make a scene and ruin everything, you can leave."

I was stunned. "What are you talking about? You told me to come."

For a split second, guilt flickered in his eyes before he stamped it out. "I don't remember saying that. You're probably lying."

Carmela hurried after us. "Ava, Isabella has been… emotionally unstable lately. Dante just brought her to join us. Could you please just leave for now?"

It was as if they'd all conveniently forgotten their promises to me.

But that was fine. If I wasn't welcome, I had no reason to stay.

I nodded, and just as I turned to leave, Isabella appeared.

She put on a show of concern. "Madre, Dante, you're both overreacting. I'm not that petty."

"Ava's injured. It couldn't have been easy for her to come all this way. Let's not make her leave! We can all have dinner together!"

I ignored the triumph glittering in her eyes and said flatly, "No, thank you."

But Dante stepped sideways, blocking my path. "You're staying," he said, his tone laced with displeasure.

"Isabella's being gracious enough to give you an out, and you're going to throw it back in her face?"

"Don't you dare walk out of here. Have you forgotten your place? Without me, you're nothing."

I froze.

Dante had pursued me relentlessly for years, but I had never intended to step into his world.

Until I was kidnapped, and he took a bullet for me without a second thought.

Before his men carried him away, he had gripped my hand tightly. "As long as you're safe, my life is yours to take. I only hope you'll give me a chance in the next one."

His sacrifice had finally moved me, and I’d given up my career in Europe to marry him in Chicago, consequences be damned.

I never imagined the love I finally gave him would become the very chain he'd use to bind me.

I took a deep breath. "Then we'll see."

With that, I walked out the door without a backward glance.

I missed the flicker of confusion in Dante's eyes.

That night, I went home and packed the few belongings I had. But in the middle of the night, Dante returned.

He froze, his eyes sweeping over the nearly empty house. "Where are our pictures? Where are all the gifts I bought you?"

"I threw them out," I answered coolly.

Dante hugged me from behind. "Why won't you look at me? Are you angry?"

He sighed. "You're unbelievable. Why can't you just be agreeable for once? I'd already introduced Isabella to everyone. You showing up just made things awkward for me."

"If you had just dropped off the gift and left, none of this would have happened."

Suddenly, he pressed a ring into my palm.

"Stop this tantrum," he murmured. "I'm keeping my promise to you. Tomorrow, we'll have a private ceremony. Just us. Isabella won't be there. Just… be on time. Okay?"

He leaned in to kiss my cheek, but I turned my head away.

Dante's expression darkened. Just as he was about to speak, one of his men rushed in to report something about Isabella.

He immediately stood and left the room to handle it.

A moment later, he called out a final instruction. "I have to go out. Remember to be at the ceremony on time tomorrow!"

The door slammed shut, marking the start of another sleepless night.

I had no intention of going, but after a moment's thought, I decided I would—to put a definitive end to it all.

But when I arrived at the venue, I was stunned. The bride wasn't me. It was Isabella.

She was dressed in a pristine white gown, holding a bouquet, greeting guests with a radiant smile.

When she saw me, she laughed. "Ava, you didn't really think today's ceremony was for you, did you?"

"Dante promised to finish our wedding today. I just told him I wanted you here to witness our happiness, so he invited you."

"You should thank me. Otherwise, you wouldn't have even been allowed in."

As she spoke, a strange smile twisted her lips. A warning bell went off in my head, but it was too late.

She flung a glass of red wine in my face before dramatically throwing herself to the ground.

The wine dripped from my chin, my vision swimming with scarlet.

When Dante saw what happened, he rushed over and violently shoved me aside.

He looked at me, his eyes blazing with disappointment.

"Ava! I was kind enough to let you be here, and you attack Isabella?"

"I was actually considering keeping you around, but you just destroyed any chance of that!"

His face a grim mask, he pulled Isabella away. Through my crimson-tinted vision, I saw her triumphant smile.

I wiped the wine from my face, my hand trembling as I placed a letter and a key on a table by the entrance.

Then, without looking back, I turned and vanished into the night.

Dante and Isabella had already reached the priest.

Just as the priest was about to speak, a bodyguard burst into the ceremony.

He rushed forward, holding up the letter and key.

"Boss, bad news! Miss Ava's gone! She's vanished—might have already left Chicago! Forget the wedding, you need to get her back!"