On the eve of our wedding, my fiancé, Dante Valenti, brought Bianca—the mistress he had hidden for three years—back to the Valenti estate. When I neither cried nor made a scene, Dante visibly relaxed. “Elena, since you don’t mind, Bianca can stay here for the time being.” Dante was the sole heir to the Valenti family. Everyone assumed that once his father handed control of the family over to him, Dante would become the next Don, and I would become his wife and the lady of the Valenti household. But then he continued, “Tomorrow is only the ceremony. We won’t file the marriage registration right away. Bianca has been emotionally unstable lately, so I’m going to humor her for now. You’re still the woman I’ll ultimately marry. Once she’s had her fun, I’ll hold a proper wedding with you.” I pressed my trembling palm closed and said nothing. Dante took my silence for consent. He took Bianca by the hand and led her away to choose a wedding gown without looking back. I took out my phone and sent one message to our private group chat. Tomorrow’s wedding is missing a groom. Who’s available? The chat exploded at once. The heirs who had grown up with Dante and me began volunteering one after another. They asked what ring size I needed, what color suit I preferred, and what time the ceremony would begin. I smiled. See, Dante? If you won’t marry me, someone else will. ... Before I could choose tomorrow’s fiancé, the butler approached with a complicated expression. “Miss Marlowe, Mr. Valenti would like you to bring out the wedding gown you planned to wear tomorrow.” He paused before adding in a low voice, “He said that since you won’t be holding your ceremony tomorrow after all, Miss Russo might as well wear it first.” I had spent six months designing that gown and another full year traveling between Paris, Milan, and New York, personally overseeing every stitch of embroidery. No one knew better than Dante how much of myself I had poured into it. Now, simply because Bianca said she liked it, he expected me to hand it over—and had even ordered the bridal atelier to alter it to her measurements overnight. “Tell him that if he wants my wedding dress, he can come and beg me for it himself.” Half an hour later, the estate doors were thrown open from outside. Dante entered with more than a dozen senior bridal consultants, each carrying two or three custom gowns in different styles. He sat down on the sofa and idly wound a strand of my hair around his finger. “Elena, our wedding can wait. Bianca is younger than you, and this is the first time she has ever asked me for anything. Let her have this one.” He tipped his chin toward the consultants. “Do you like any of these? If not, I’ll have new ones flown in from Paris overnight.” “Of course, you can still wear your original gown after Bianca is done with it. I don’t mind.” He did not mind. I did. Bianca laughed beside him, threw herself into Dante’s arms, and traced a finger along the opening of his shirt. “Dante, you’re awful. Everyone in New York society knows Elena would never touch a gown another woman had worn.” “And now you want her to wear a wedding dress after me. She’s going to hate me.” Dante stroked her hair indulgently. “She isn’t that petty.” “Besides, she’s been with me for ten years. Who else could she possibly marry?” I lowered my eyes and said nothing. On my phone, the men in the group chat were competing to send me photographs of themselves at their most presentable. One posted the black tuxedo he had just tried on. Another ordered his private tailor to deliver cuff links overnight. Someone else displayed the heirloom wedding ring his grandmother had left him. Every one of them seemed genuinely nervous about tomorrow. Then Adrian Bellandi’s name appeared on the screen—the current Don of the Bellandi family, a man no one in New York’s underworld dared provoke lightly, Dante included. The stream of messages stopped almost at once. Adrian wrote: Me. Leave every detail of the wedding to me. Tomorrow, all you have to do is walk toward me. An image of Adrian rose in my mind—his tall, powerfully built body encased in immaculate black suits, his broad back and solid chest suggesting the strength concealed beneath the severe fabric, strength capable of trapping someone completely in his arms. I replied with a single word. Okay. “Elena, what are you looking at?” Dante’s impatient voice sounded beside me. I came back to myself and turned off the screen. Dante had Bianca in his arms and had shifted into a more comfortable position. He held out one hand to me carelessly. “Where do we keep the protection? Bianca is clingy, and she’s younger than you. She has far too much energy in bed.” I answered coldly, “The butler knows where it is. Ask him.” “Look at you, getting jealous.” He laughed. “Relax. I promised you that the future heir of the Valenti family would come from you and no one else.” My lips curved in a cold smile. Ten years earlier, when Dante was twenty, he had sworn beneath a sky full of fireworks that I would be the only woman he ever married. Ten years later, there were more and more women around him. Those old vows had long since been discarded, and in his eyes I seemed to have become nothing more than the vessel expected to produce his heir. When he saw me smile, Dante paused and looked at me properly for the first time in a long while. “You should smile more, Elena. You smiled all the time in your early twenties. Now you always look so cold. It doesn’t suit you.” I let the smile fade and told the butler to send an entire box of condoms to Dante’s room. Dante was pleased by my obedience. He did not realize that I was not yielding for his sake. I simply no longer cared about him, so none of it mattered. He still believed I was as compliant as ever, that I would continue cleaning up every mess he made. He lifted Bianca into his arms and started upstairs. “Oh, and you’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.” “The wedding is tomorrow, and Bianca insists I spend the night with her. She’s irritable when she wakes up, so tell the hair and makeup team to wait outside my bedroom. They can start whenever she gets up.” “Dante.” I called after him from the sofa. He stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned, brow furrowed, signaling for me to speak quickly. I looked directly into his face and enunciated every word. “My wedding will go ahead tomorrow. If you replace the bride, I’ll replace the groom.”
Dante clearly did not believe me. He scoffed and shook his head. “Elena, this isn’t the time to compete for my attention. I’ll make Bianca happy first. If she’s in a good mood tomorrow, she may even let you be her bridesmaid.” Bianca pouted from his arms. “I don’t want her.” At her urging, Dante carried her upstairs without looking back. Before long, suggestive sounds began drifting from the master bedroom. The butler hesitated several times before finally forcing out the words. “Miss Marlowe, Mr. Valenti has never intended for Miss Russo to become the true mistress of the Valenti family.” I glanced at the box of contraceptives in his hands and tilted my head toward the stairs. “Take it up.” The true mistress of the Valenti family? I no longer wanted the title. That evening, my friend Claire called me, her voice full of shock and confusion. “Elena, what is going on? Why did Dante suddenly notify everyone that the wedding was canceled?” “You’ve been planning this for a year. The estate and hotel decorations alone cost tens of millions, and you personally designed everything from the silverware to the floral arrangements. What gives him the right to cancel it on a whim?” I sat up, rubbing my ear, fully awake now. I was about to tell her that my wedding was not canceled when her voice suddenly rose. “Wait! He just sent another invitation. The ceremony is still happening, but the bride has been changed to Bianca Russo. Who is this mistress? Has Dante lost his mind?” Dante had always been like this. When he loved someone, he gave her everything—power, money, and all his favor. When he stopped loving her, he withdrew it all without hesitation. Headlights swept past the window, briefly illuminating the room before darkness returned. “Claire, don’t worry about any of this. Be at the venue on time tomorrow. If Dante can replace the bride, why can’t I replace the groom?” The other end of the line went silent for several seconds. Claire had clearly understood what had happened. Her voice shook with anger. “Replace him. Of course you should replace him! That bastard acted more devoted than anyone before the wedding. He traveled through more than twenty countries with you for engagement photos, rented an entire coastline, and used drones to announce your wedding date to the whole city. And now he betrays you just like that? He’s a complete bastard!” By the end, tears had entered her voice. “Elena, wait there. I’m sending my husband to deal with him right now.” I laughed helplessly. I was about to tell her things were not quite that bad, and that every one of my prospective grooms was reliable, when someone knocked at the door. The butler stood outside, looking pained. “Miss Marlowe, Mr. Valenti requests that you come to the master bedroom.” I knew that if I refused, Dante would take his anger out on the butler. I told Claire to change into her bridesmaid dress and wait for me directly at the venue tomorrow, then went upstairs. The half-open bedroom was in disarray, the air still thick with the unmistakable scent of sex. They had obviously just finished. Water dripped from the ends of Dante’s wet hair into the collar of his robe, sliding over a neck covered in kiss marks. I dug my nails into my palm and forced myself to ignore the dense ache spreading through my chest. “Elena, I know how much work you put into this wedding.” He pointed carelessly at a soiled bridesmaid dress on the floor. “Wear that tomorrow and stand beside Bianca. That way, your year of preparation won’t be completely wasted.” Bianca lay wrapped in the sheets, malice curling at the corners of her mouth. She leaned toward Dante and deliberately spoke loudly enough for me to hear. “Dante, Elena is a top jewelry designer. The wedding rings she designed for you must be beautiful. I want them too.” I looked at them without expression. Like the gown, those rings had been created by my own hand. I had drawn the designs, chosen the stones, and supervised the craftsmen myself. Dante could not possibly have forgotten. Yet he said lightly, “Elena, they’re only rings. If Bianca likes them, let her use them first.” “We haven’t set a new date for our wedding. You’ll have plenty of time to design another pair.” His entitlement extinguished the final trace of attachment I still felt for him. I looked into his eyes and said, one word at a time, “I told you. Tomorrow’s wedding will continue.”
Dante paused, then laughed under his breath. “How? I won’t be there as the groom. Who exactly do you plan to marry?” His voice softened as if he were coaxing a stubborn child. “Elena, you’ve never been the kind of woman who clings or makes scenes. I said I would marry you, and I will keep my word. You only need to be patient for a few more years. Be a good girl and serve as Bianca’s bridesmaid tomorrow, all right?” Wait. Again, he wanted me to wait. I had waited ten years for him and had finally reached our wedding day. Then, just before the ceremony, I discovered that he had been betraying me for three entire years. Now he wanted me to wait again—to stand there and watch him hold a ceremony with another woman, then wait until he tired of her and condescended to return and marry me. “I’m not waiting for you anymore, Dante.” He either did not hear me or simply did not care. He glanced at his watch, pulled Bianca back beneath the covers, and tossed out a careless remark. “It’s still early. We can sleep a little longer.” “Don’t worry. The true heir to the Valenti family will come from your body and no one else’s.” I lowered my eyes, calmly threw the bridesmaid dress back onto the floor, and returned to the guest room. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Adrian. I’m ready. A photograph followed. A black suit lay perfectly arranged on a bed, beside an antique wedding ring engraved with the Bellandi family crest. The marriage license has been handled. The waiver of the waiting period will be delivered before dawn. You don’t need to prepare a gown or a ring. My people will take everything directly to the hotel. I stared at the screen for several seconds before replying. Are you certain you want to marry me? Adrian answered at once. Elena, I never joke about marriage. Tomorrow, all you need to do is arrive on time. Leave everything else to me. ... The next morning, the hair and makeup team waited awkwardly outside the master bedroom. Dante and his mistress were obviously still asleep. I walked toward them from the far end of the corridor. “I’m today’s bride. Get me ready.” I had personally handled every pre-wedding discussion, fitting, and detail with them. Of course they recognized me. My makeup was nearly finished by the time Dante and Bianca finally came downstairs. Morning light poured through the tall windows, making my brown hair gleam. Dante stopped when he saw me. For a moment, he simply stared. The stylist secured the final layer of my veil. I rose, gathering my skirts, and turned my face toward him. He finally recovered and sighed helplessly. “Elena, I told you I’ll make the wedding up to you later. Let Bianca have this one. Be good and take off the dress. She’ll be upset when she sees it.” Rapid footsteps sounded from the stairs. Bianca rushed down and clung to Dante’s arm. The moment she saw my wedding gown, her expression changed. “Today is supposed to be my wedding. Why is she still wearing a bridal gown?” “My mother was a mistress. I swore as a child that I would never become a woman like her. But for you, I’ve carried that shame for three years.” Tears quickly filled her eyes, making her look pitiful. “And now you want me to share even my wedding with her?” Dante immediately bent his head to comfort her. His helpless panic reminded me of ten years earlier. After the explosion, he had pulled me from the ruins. When he learned that I had lost both my parents, he had held me just as anxiously and sworn with awkward sincerity, “Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” Memories were always the sharpest knives. I gave a soft laugh and tossed a small, worn booklet onto the floor. “Dante, I don’t want this anymore.” If he had bothered to open it, he would have recognized the wish book we made together ten years ago. Back then, he said that once we completed one hundred wishes, we would never separate. Ten wishes remained unfinished. I no longer wanted to complete them with him. “Elena, perfect timing.” Dante bent down, picked up the pink booklet, and handed it to Bianca. “Babe, this is a couples’ wish book. If we complete one hundred wishes together, we’ll never separate. The dress is yours. The wedding is yours too.” Bianca finally smiled through her tears. She leaned against Dante and looked at me with open provocation. “Make her take off the dress. What right does a bridesmaid have to wear the bride’s gown?” Dante crooked one finger. Several maids immediately approached me. “Elena. Take it off.” The makeup artists looked embarrassed and tried to speak for me, but the guards stopped them and forcibly escorted them to another room. The gown was heavy. Beneath it, I wore nothing but lingerie. I looked around at the room full of people, then finally met Dante’s eyes. “Are you sure you want me to undress here?”
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