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On the Thirty-Third Try
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My wedding to Don Lorenzo Corsica was always 'almost.' Five years engaged. Thirty-two weddings. Every single one crashed and burned. Then came number thirty-three. Halfway through, the chapel wall caved in. I landed in the ICU. Skull fracture. Major concussion. A dozen critical alerts. Two months stuck between life and death. Then I clawed my way back. On discharge day, I caught him talking to his right-hand guy. "Don, if you're really into that scholarship girl, just dump Ms. Mortoro," the guy said. "Corsicas can kill gossip. No need for staged accidents... She nearly died." Lorenzo went quiet. Then finally, "I owed her parents. They died for me. Marrying her was the only way to repay that. But I love Sofia. She's the one I want." I looked down at my stitched-up body and cried without a sound. So it wasn't fate that wrecked me. It was him. If he couldn't choose, I'd do it for him.
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On the Thirty-Third Try Chapter 8
Elisa shipped me off to some elite Swiss clinic.Lorenzo had pumped me full of sleeping pills, and with the cancer wrecking my body, I was barely hanging on. Elisa showed up just in time and dragged me back from the edge.I still see her—poised, cold, the Corsica queen—on her knees, crying, apologizing to me and to my dead parents.Didn't matter anymore.The tumor in my head felt like a ticking bomb. I could drop dead any second.All I cared about was my dad's broken ring.I scooped up the black shards and tucked them into a velvet box.Didn't matter how I tried to fix it—some things just don't go back.***Three months into treatment, Lorenzo still found me. Guess Elisa caved.Lorenzo looked wrecked—scruffy, red-eyed, all that cold mafia polish worn down to something raw."Chiara..." he croaked from the doorway.I stayed leaning on the headboard, voice barely there. "The engagement's off. We're just history now. What do you want?"Before I could finish, he was on me—arms
On the Thirty-Third Try Chapter 7
Lorenzo walked into the hospital.Sofia's face lit up. She smiled, soft and certain. "Lorenzo, I knew you wouldn't leave me—"She reached for his hand. He stepped back like she'd burned him. Cold, distant.He stared at her, ice in his eyes. "Did Chiara really force you to try to kill yourself?"Sofia blinked, flustered. "Of course she did! Lorenzo, you can't trust that kind of woman—"He cut her off. No heat, just a dead-flat voice. "I checked. You had no direct contact with Chiara. How did she 'force' you? And why did it happen the same day I visited the chapel?"He watched her. "The doctors said the drug levels weren't even close to lethal. That 'suicide' looked staged."His last words were quieter, more to himself than to her, colder than anything before.He felt stupid—how easily he'd fallen for that shallow lie, and the unforgivable things he'd done because of it.Lorenzo moved fast. He ordered Sofia out of the country.Every gift, every asset she'd been given was taken
On the Thirty-Third Try Chapter 6
Lorenzo flooded the streets with men, tearing through the city's underworld, but Chiara was gone. Like she'd never even been real.With no leads left, he went to the one person he hated needing—his mother, the real boss of the Corsica Family."Mother, do you know where Chiara is? She's gone. I can't find her." His voice cracked with desperation.Elisa's look was ice. "Stop searching. I dissolved your engagement on behalf of the Family. She's nothing to you now."The words hit like a bullet to the chest.Lorenzo reeled, dizzy. "Dissolved?! Based on what? The Mortoros died for that promise—we swore a blood oath!"Elisa laughed, sharp and cruel. "A blood oath? You still remember? Then tell me—what have you done since?"His throat closed. He ground his teeth, voice ragged. "Chiara wouldn't agree. She'd never end it."Elisa's sigh was heavy, her eyes dark with hurt. "She's the one who asked."The study went dead quiet, just the fire snapping in the hearth and Lorenzo's heartbeat th
On the Thirty-Third Try Chapter 5
Lorenzo's face drained of color. Two hours had already passed since Sofia's rescue. The dose he'd forced on Chiara... enough to—He shoved his men out of the way, bolted from the hospital, and tore off in his car toward Sofia's mansion.His heart hammered the whole drive.Too quiet. His phone stayed dead. He kept dialing Chiara—no answer.The mansion door hung open. The living room was trashed.An empty pill bottle. A shattered ring. No one.Lorenzo stood in the doorway, lungs burning, and yelled, "Chiara?!"Silence.'Where does someone go after swallowing half a bottle of sleeping pills?' Panic crashed over him like a tide.He pressed his temples, hating himself—hating how he'd lost control, how he'd been cruel. She was still his fiancée. His savior's daughter. The girl who'd shown him kindness back when they were kids.He scrambled through every family channel he had. Nothing. Dead ends.He couldn't make it public—'a mafia Don's fiancée goes missing' would be fuel for enem
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