I Married My Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Older Brother

Sofia's birthday gala was less a celebration and more an exercise in vulgar excess.

Dante hosted the event at the Moretti estate in Long Island. He spared no expense. There were ice sculptures, a live orchestra, and enough champagne to drown the entire borough.

I arrived late.

I had chosen a black dress with long sleeves to cover my bandages. It was backless, severe, and unapologetically elegant. Matteo wasn't back from his trip to Italy yet, so I walked in alone.

The moment I entered, the whispers started.

"That's the ex," someone murmured.

"Poor thing, chasing after a man who clearly doesn't want her."

I took a glass of champagne and stood by a pillar, watching.

Dante was in the center of the room, holding court. Sofia was on his arm, wearing a shimmering pink gown that looked suspiciously like a wedding dress.

He gave her a gift. A rare blue diamond necklace.

The crowd gasped.

"Make a wish!" someone shouted.

Sofia closed her eyes. "I wish... to be with Dante forever."

The room erupted in applause.

Dante looked at her. He looked torn for a split second, his eyes scanning the crowd until they found me.

I raised my glass to him. Go ahead.

He looked back at Sofia, cupped her face, and kissed her.

It wasn't a polite peck. It was deep, possessive.

I turned to leave. I had seen enough.

"Leaving so soon?"

I was blocked by three women. Sofia's clique. Daughters of minor associates who were desperate to climb the social ladder by sucking up to the Capo's girlfriend.

"Move," I said.

"It's pathetic," one of them sneered. "You hanging around. He chose her five years ago, and he's choosing her now. You're just a placeholder, Elena. A warm body."

"And not even a good one," another laughed. "Dante told Sofia you were like a corpse in bed."

That was a lie. Dante and I had never slept together. He wanted to wait until the wedding. Respect, he had called it. Now I knew it was just lack of desire.

"Let me pass," I warned.

One of them, a girl named Gia, stumbled forward. Her glass of red wine tipped.

It splashed all over the front of my dress.

"Oops," she smirked. "Clumsy me."

The disrespect was blatant. In our world, this was a declaration of war.

We were standing near the edge of the terrace. Below us was the ornamental lake, dark and deep.

"You look like trash," Gia said. She shoved me.

It was harder than I expected. My heels slipped on the wet stone.

I went over the railing.

I hit the water hard. The cold was a shock to my system.

I couldn't swim.

I thrashed, the heavy fabric of my gown pulling me down like an anchor. The water filled my nose, my mouth.

"Elena!"

I heard Dante scream my name. It sounded terrified.

I broke the surface, gasping.

I saw him on the terrace. He had shoved the girls aside and was climbing over the railing. He was coming for me.

For a second, hope flared. A stupid, pathetic spark.

Then I heard a shriek.

"Dante! Help!"

Sofia.

She was on the other side of the terrace, near the shallow steps. She had "slipped" on the wet pavement. She was sitting on the ground, clutching her ankle.

"Dante! It hurts!"

Dante froze on the railing.

He looked at me, struggling in the deep water, sinking.

He looked at Sofia, sitting safely on the ground.

He hesitated.

Then he turned around.

He climbed back onto the terrace and ran to Sofia.

"I've got you, baby," I heard him say as the water closed over my head.

The darkness took me.

It was peaceful down there. No lies. No pain. Just the heavy silence of the water.

I saw his back as he ran away. That was the image that burned into my retinas as my lungs screamed for air.

He was letting me drown.

Strong hands grabbed me. I was hauled up, coughing and retching, onto the grass.

It was the security chief, a massive man named Rocco.

"Breathe, Donna Elena," he commanded, pounding my back.

I vomited lake water onto the pristine lawn.

I looked up.

Dante was carrying Sofia into the house. He was cooing at her. He didn't even look back to see if I was alive.

"Take me home, Rocco," I rasped.

"To the hospital, Donna."

"No," I said. "Take me to Matteo."

I passed out in the car.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed, but it wasn't a normal room. It was the private suite in the Obsidian Tower.

My throat felt like I had swallowed glass.

The door opened.

Sofia walked in. She wasn't limping.

"Oh, you're awake!" she said brightly. "Dante was so worried. He wanted to come, but I had a panic attack about the accident, so he stayed to calm me down."

"Get out," I whispered.

"It was just a prank," she said, pouting. "Gia didn't mean to push you that hard. Can't you take a joke?"

She walked to the bed. Her eyes were sharp, calculating. The amnesia mask slipped for a second.

"So," she said. "Tell me about Matteo."

"Why?"

"Because once I marry Dante, we'll be family. I need to know what the Don is like. Is he... aggressive?"

"He is a monster," I said. "He eats little girls like you for breakfast."

She giggled. "Dante says he's just lonely."

She sighed, looking out the window. "I wish I could remember. Dante says we were so in love. He chased me for years. Where was I going when I crashed? Do you know?"

She was looking at me, testing me.

I knew exactly where she was going. She was coming to the church to stop my wedding. She was coming to ruin my life.

"You were-"

The door banged open.

Dante rushed in. He looked frantic.

"Sofia! I told you to wait in the car!"

He grabbed her arm. He looked at me, his eyes wide with panic. He was terrified I would tell her the truth.

"I was just asking Elena about her engagement!" Sofia said innocently. "She's marrying Matteo, right?"

Dante looked at me. He was begging silently. Don't blow this.

"Yes," I said. "I am marrying Matteo."

"Soon?" Sofia asked.

"Very soon," I said.

Dante dragged her toward the door. "We have to go. Elena needs rest."

"Bye, Sister-in-law!" Sofia waved.

They left.

I lay in the dark.

I checked my phone.

Sofia had posted a new photo. Dante kissing her forehead.

Caption: He treats me like a queen. Blessed

Dante had commented: My love. Always.

I liked the photo.

It was the first time I had engaged with her social media.

It was a message.

Keep him. He's yours.