I Married My Ex-Fiancé's Ruthless Older Brother

The humiliation was no longer a private affair; it had transformed into a public spectacle.

Dante and Sofia were inescapable.

They walked hand in hand through the estate gardens, parading their fabricated happiness. They sat on the patio of Dante's villa, perfectly framed by the window of Matteo's guest suite.

I watched as she fed him grapes. He laughed, throwing his head back, wearing a look of youthfulness I hadn't seen on his face in years.

My phone buzzed against the nightstand, breaking the trance.

Dante: Don't look out the window. It's just for show. She needs constant reassurance or the doctors say she'll regress.

I didn't reply. I couldn't.

Dante: I'm planning a fake proposal. Just to seal the memory. Then I can start weaning her off. Trust me.

A fake proposal.

The irony tasted like ash.

He had proposed to me in the front seat of a car, in the breathless space between hits. He had tossed a velvet ring box into my lap with trembling hands and said, "We should get this over with."

For me, it had been an afterthought. For her, he was planning theater.

"Donna Elena."

I turned. A maid hovered in the doorway, clutching a tablet.

"The Don sent this. He said you should approve the venue."

I took the device, my fingers brushing the cool screen.

It was a video file.

The interior of St. Patrick's Cathedral filled the display, but not as the world knew it.

It had been transfigured. Thousands of black roses lined the aisle, devouring the light. Candelabras as tall as men stood like silent sentinels, weeping wax onto the stone. It was Gothic. Dark. Oppressive.

It was magnificent.

It looked like a coronation for the Queen of the Underworld.

"It's perfect," I whispered.

"Who sent you that?"

Sofia stood in the doorway. She had walked right in, bypassing security with the codes Dante had undoubtedly gifted her.

She peered at the screen, her eyes widening.

"Wow," she breathed. "Is that... for Matteo's wedding?"

"Yes," I said, my voice steady.

"He must really love her," Sofia mused, a trace of envy bleeding into her tone. "Dante's proposal plans are... sweet. But this? This is power."

She didn't know the bride was me.

"Matteo returns tomorrow," I said, locking the screen and severing the image. "The wedding is in two days."

Dante appeared behind Sofia, his energy frantic.

"Why are you bothering Elena?" he snapped at Sofia, though his hand rested with practiced gentleness on her waist.

"We were just looking at Matteo's wedding venue," Sofia replied innocently.

Dante's eyes snapped to me, dark with annoyance.

"Stop obsessing over Matteo's wedding," he said to me, his voice sharp. "Focus on your role. You're supposed to be the grieving ex-fiancée who supports her sister-in-law. Don't get too lost in the fantasy of being Matteo's wife, Elena. It's creepy."

He thought I was roleplaying. He believed I was staring at the venue to torture myself with 'what ifs.'

"I know my role, Dante," I said coldly.

"Good," he clipped. "Come on, Sofia. We have to go."

"Where?" Sofia asked, blinking up at him.

"Surprise," Dante winked.

He led her away, leaving me in the silence.

The next morning, Sofia banged on my door.

"You have to come!" she cried, practically vibrating with excitement. "Dante is acting so weird. He's taking me to the Botanical Gardens. I think he's going to do it!"

"Do what?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"Propose!" She grabbed my hand, her grip desperate. "Please, Elena. I don't have any family. You're the closest thing I have to a sister. Be there for me?"

I looked at her. The innocence was so thick it was suffocating.

"Okay," I said. "I'll come."

I wanted to see it.

I needed to witness the brutal difference between duty and desire.

We drove to the gardens.

It was a wonderland of pink peonies and white lilies, the air sweet enough to rot teeth. Soft, instrumental music drifted from hidden speakers.

It was a fairy tale.

Dante was waiting under a gazebo draped in lush vines.

He looked handsome. Nervous.

When he saw me, his jaw tightened. He hadn't expected Sofia to bring an audience.

But he couldn't break character.

Slowly, with the weight of a thousand lies pressing down on him, he lowered himself onto one knee.