The Wedding He Stole From Me

I returned to the bridal room and sent Adrian one message.

The wedding is canceled.

His call came less than ten seconds later.

“Elena, have you made enough of a scene?”

His voice was low.

“Livia slit her wrist. The doctor said she can’t be upset again. Are you really going to fight her over a ceremony right now?”

The ring box sat open on the vanity. Inside were the bands I had picked up myself, our names engraved along the inner edges.

“Adrian, today is our seventh anniversary. It is also the wedding we spent six months preparing.”

“I know.”

“But this is a life-or-death matter. You have always been the sensible one. Help her get through this.”

I said nothing.

“She has severe depression. Her only obsession is to wear a wedding dress once and marry me once.”

“It has no legal force. The Moretti marriage papers have not changed. You are still my fiancée.”

Legally, maybe. But in the Moretti world, whoever stood beside the Don at that altar became his Donna in the eyes of the family.

He paused, then lowered his voice.

“Once she is stable, I will take you to register tomorrow.”

I asked, “Then what am I today?”

The line went quiet.

“Today, we make her feel safe.”

My mother’s voice came from his side.

“Adrian, stop wasting time on her.”

“Elena has resented Livia since they were children. Livia isn’t as strong as she is. She isn’t as healthy. Now she can’t even have one wedding without Elena making it about herself?”

“If Elena dares to come here and cause trouble, I’ll pretend I never had that daughter.”

“Mom, today was supposed to be my wedding.”

“You and Adrian have been together for seven years. Will one day kill you?”

Her voice hardened.

“It might kill Livia. She just came back from the hospital.”

Adrian spoke again.

“Elena, don’t make this bigger. The Moretti family is outside. You know what this ceremony means.”

Of course I knew.

That was why I had embroidered the wedding dress myself.

The neckline carried the Moretti black eagle. The skirt carried the vine pattern passed down through Vale Atelier. For three months, I had worked through the night and pricked my fingers until the stitches blurred.

Adrian had once held my hands and promised that the entire Moretti family would know I was his only bride.

Now he said, “One more thing.”

“Say it.”

“Livia saw your dress. She likes it.”

“Take it off and have someone send it over. If she wears it, she’ll calm down faster.”

I looked at the white dress in the mirror.

“Do you know how long I spent on this?”

“I know. I’ll have a better one made for you later.”

“No need.”

“Elena.”

“I’ll bring it.”

He exhaled.

“Don’t overthink this. I’ll make it up to you after Livia gets better.”

I ended the call.

My bridesmaid opened the door.

“Elena, the guests are asking where Don Moretti is.”

“He isn’t coming.”

She froze.

“He is next door, marrying Livia.”

I wiped the red from my lips, removed the dress, and put on a black coat. The bodice still held the warmth of my body when I folded it into a paper garment bag.

No one outside stopped me.

The hallway between the two banquet rooms was lined with white roses and Moretti guards. The same flowers, the same music, the same priest’s schedule. Only the bride had been replaced.

Half an hour later, I walked into the banquet hall next door.

The room was loud enough to drown out the wedding bells outside.

Moretti soldiers stood along the walls. Relatives surrounded Livia, laughing and congratulating her. A white shawl covered her shoulders, and fresh bandages wrapped one wrist.

Adrian stood beside her, wiping her tears.

My mother held Livia’s hand.

“Our Livia is beautiful today.”

My father nodded.

“Adrian is responsible. We can trust him with her.”

My aunt lifted her glass.

“Livia is lucky. Elena is too forceful. What man could stand that forever?”

A cousin added, “She has always tried to outshine Livia. Don Moretti is right this time. A man should protect the weaker one.”

Adrian saw me and came over quickly, blocking my view of Livia.

“Why did you come yourself?”

Then, lower, “Livia just settled down. Don’t upset her.”

I handed him the bag.

“The dress.”

He took it.

“Elena, I know you were wronged today.”

“After Livia recovers, I will give you a bigger wedding. The venue, the guests, the dress—anything you want.”

I did not answer.

He turned to leave, then stopped.

“Since you’re here, find a seat.”

“Don’t make Livia think you brought the dress unwillingly.”