The Night Before the Wedding, He Wanted a Different Bride

I opened the desk drawer and started writing my formal declaration of severance from the family.

Early the next morning, I walked into Consigliere Luca's office with the signed document.

"Elena, have a seat." Uncle Luca was smoking a cigar. He gestured for me to sit. "The Elders have already signed off on the ceremony changes. The family will give you appropriate compensation—"

"Uncle Luca, I don't want compensation." I placed the parchment on his wide mahogany desk. "I'm here because I need you to stamp this with the family seal."

Uncle Luca put down his cigar, picked up the document, and scanned it.

"Declaration of severance?!" He shot up from his chair, the leather swivel bumping into the bookcase behind him with a dull thud. "Elena, you're leaving the family? You're leaving Vincent?!"

In a world where blood and loyalty were the iron law, voluntarily severing ties with the core family was practically a declaration of war—an act of betrayal.

And the family I was leaving happened to be Vincent Rossi's.

"My signature's already on it." My voice didn't waver. "All I need is your seal of confirmation."

Uncle Luca came around the desk, trying to talk me down. "Kid, you're still upset about the wedding? Vincent—he has his reasons. Sofia's father just died, the situation's complicated. Giving her the title was the quickest way to stabilize things. But that doesn't mean he doesn't value you! You're the one he truly loves—that'll never change!"

"Uncle Luca, please don't bother."

"But if you leave the family, you lose all protection. How many enemies out there would jump at the chance? Have you thought about that?"

"I can take care of myself. I've already accepted a position elsewhere. Once the paperwork's done, I'm leaving Chicago." My tone was steady, leaving no room for debate.

Uncle Luca looked at me for a long moment, then finally let out a heavy sigh and stamped the document.

"Kid," he said, his voice sounding older now, "I hope you don't regret this."

I left his office and went back to my apartment.

At nine that night, I was packing when the apartment door buzzed open with an electronic key card—loud and jarring.

Vincent stood in the doorway, carrying the chill of the night with him. He'd clearly come straight from some important meeting or deal—still in his tailored suit jacket.

"Elena, are you out of your mind?!"

He crossed the room in a few strides and grabbed my wrist, his eyes burning with fury.

"You went to Luca and signed a severance over a wedding? Do you have any idea what that means? My fiancée walking out—that's a public announcement that I'm the kind of man who discards women! What happens to my reputation then?"

I didn't try to pull away. I just looked up at his handsome face, twisted with anger.

"So you came rushing back—not because you're worried about me, but because you're worried about your reputation. Is that it?"

Vincent's grip faltered for a split second.

"Don't change the subject!" He let go of my wrist and yanked at his tie in frustration. "Elena, I always thought you were the most reasonable, the most sensible person I knew! Sofia's family is in shambles—she has no way to protect herself! You giving up the wedding to her, letting her have the family's protection—that saves her life! Why can't you have a shred of compassion? Why do you have to be so cold and calculating?!"

"Cold and calculating?"

I looked at this man I'd once given everything for, and all I felt was how ridiculous it was.

"Vincent, if you feel you owe the Colombo family, if you feel you need to protect Sofia—fine. You want to repay a debt? Give her money. Send her protection. Give her anything real and tangible. But what did you actually do?"

My eyes dropped to the tiny family crest pin on his lapel.

"You're marrying her."

Bang!

Vincent's fist slammed into the oak cabinet beside him, sending glass ornaments crashing to the floor.

"Elena! It's just a ceremony! Once this blows over, of course you're where I'll end up!"

The room went dead silent.

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

I'd seen that look a thousand times before.

In my past life, after Sofia died. Every single time he mentioned her name. That same cold, distant gaze.

So it didn't matter whether Sofia was alive or dead—in his eyes, I would always be that scheming, heartless woman.

The last faint ember in my heart went out—completely.

I looked away, my voice flat.

"You're right. So from now on, we're done."