The Wedding He Stole From Me
When the wedding bells rang, my groom, Adrian Moretti, was gone.
He was the Don of the Moretti family, and the man I had loved for seven years.
By Moretti tradition, today I was meant to be acknowledged as the Don’s wife. Instead, I stood alone before the altar.
At the same time, my mother sent a video to our family chat.
In it, Adrian knelt in the banquet hall next door and slid my ring onto the finger of my twin sister, Livia Vale.
Relatives cheered. My father smiled beside them. Livia cried against Adrian’s shoulder, and he comforted her as if she had always been the bride.
I pulled off my veil, ready to demand an explanation, when my mother tagged me.
Elena, Livia is your sister. She has