My Fiance's Gone, His Brother Stayed

I'm the so-called 'Lady of Glory'—yeah, that girl from the Archbishop's prophecy.

They said I'd bring endless glory to whatever Family I married into.

But at our engagement party, my fiancé—Marco Falcone—swaggered onstage holding hands with his pregnant stripper girlfriend.

Then he grabbed my wrist, dragged me forward, and made me kiss her hand.

"Lola's the only woman I'll ever call my wife," he said with a smug little grin. "If you still want this marriage, your De Luca money better support her and the baby."

I slapped him. Ripped the contract in half. Let it snow confetti.

"Please. I can marry someone a hundred times better."

Right when I was about to torch the entire Falcone Family, someone stepped out of the shadows.

Marco's older brother, Dante Falcone. The one who'd been injured, underestimated, and pushed aside.

He locked eyes with me, totally unfazed.

"Signorina De Luca, do your words still stand?"

"You look gorgeous, Signorina."

I stared at my reflection. That black silk gown clung to me like a secret, and the diamond necklace? Blinding.

This wasn't just any dress—it was a custom piece, six figures, made for one reason only: tonight's engagement party with Marco Falcone.

"Thanks, Maria." I fixed my earring. "Is the car out front?"

"It is. Your father said tonight marks a new era—De Luca and Falcone, stronger than ever."

I nodded.

Dad wasn't wrong—this alliance would fuse our shipping empire with the Falcone mafia's grip on the streets.

But more than business, there was that old prophecy from the archbishop: "The Lady of Glory shall bring divine protection and endless prosperity to the Family she joins."

People believed it was me.

That's why the Falcones locked in my engagement to their second son, Marco, back when I was still playing with dolls.

***

Thirty minutes later, I stepped into the top-floor ballroom of a luxury hotel.

Under the giant crystal chandelier, every major mafia family was packed in.

I scanned the room, searching for Marco.

"Giulia!" His voice cut through the noise. He strolled up in a sharp suit, flashing that too-perfect smile. "You made it."

"Obviously." I offered my hand. "It's our big night."

"Yeah." He kissed it, eyes darting for just a second. "Come on. Everyone's waiting."

Something felt off. I didn't press it.

Guys like Marco? Marriage was never about love. It was all about the power play.

The ceremony kicked off.

Alessandro Falcone, the Don himself, stood on stage and boomed about the epic alliance between our families.

Marco and I stood shoulder to shoulder, soaking in the smiles and blessings.

Just as the priest reached for the rings, Marco dropped my hand.

"Wait." His voice echoed through the mic. The whole place froze.

I turned to him, heart dropping fast.

"Before we do this, there's someone I need you all to meet." He nodded toward the doors. "Lola, come in."

The doors swung open. A blonde in a tight red dress walked in, heels clicking like gunshots. Her pregnant belly said it all.

"This is Lola," Marco said, lacing his fingers with hers. "She's having my baby."

The ballroom broke into a storm of whispers.

My blood went ice-cold, but I kept my face stone still.

"Marco, what the hell are you doing?" Alessandro's voice cracked like a whip, fury pouring off him.

"I'm doing what any real man would." Marco turned to me, eyes daring me to react. "Giulia, I need you to do something."

"What?" My voice could've sliced glass.

"Kiss Lola's hand. Accept her. She's family now." He yanked my hand, trying to drag me toward her. "That baby deserves a name."

Silence. Thick and deadly.

Everyone held their breath. Was I gonna cave... or clap back?

I stared at Marco's smug face. Thought of my dad. The De Luca name.

Smack!

The sound cracked through the ballroom.

Marco stood there, palm to his cheek, stunned stupid.

I stepped onto the stage and grabbed the mic.

My voice cut through the room, calm and sharp. "I, Giulia De Luca, officially cancel my engagement to Marco Falcone."

Chaos erupted.

Mafia dons whispering. Alessandro's jaw clenched.

Marco lost it. He pointed, raging. "Puttana! Who the hell do you think you are? Anyone who takes you in becomes our enemy!"

He stormed up, ripped the mic from my hands. "You've got two options—accept Lola, or rot in a convent!"

Right then, the ballroom doors slammed open.

Isabella—Marco's mother—burst in, eyes wide as she took in the scene. Her face drained.

"Marco, what are you doing?" She shoved Lola out of the way. "You're disgracing the family!"

"No!" Marco blocked Lola, snapping back at me. "Giulia De Luca, I'm giving you a shot—out of charity! Just say that after the wedding, you'll treat Lola like family. Let my kid be born in peace..."

He paused. That greedy spark lit up his eyes.

"And when the baby's born, your dad—Mr. King of the Ports—can be our kid's financial guardian!"