

Three days before my wedding, Adrian canceled it for the fifty-second time. He came to the Palermo workshop to approve my gown’s crest embroidery, but the moment I stepped out from the fitting curtain, he snatched up his holster and radio. “Torino bastards smashed Bianca’s vineyard, surrounded the estate. Lia’s terrified, so I have to go. The wedding is off.” Once, I would have stopped him and demanded to know who mattered more to him, me or Bianca. This time, I simply let him go. Thirty minutes later, Bianca posted an Instagram Story: [You’re the only shelter for me and my daughter.] The photo showed Adrian holding Bianca close, with Lia in his arms, calling him Dad. They looked like a real family. My parents sighed. “Seraphina, is the wedding in Hawaii off again? We’ve already sent the invitations to every renowned Italian family. What will this do to the Bellini family’s honor?” I shook my head, tapping the backup invite. "The wedding goes on. In three days, I’ll still be a bride. Just not Adrian’s."

After our eighty-eighth canceled wedding, I called my business partner. "I'm taking the Haviana market project." There was a beat of stunned silence. "Seriously? That's ten years overseas. You just got married—well, weren't you? Does your husband even know? What about your parents? You always said staying close to them was everything." I glanced around the empty church and let out a sharp laugh. "There was no wedding. No husband. And my parents? They've got Cindy. That's all they need." Another pause. "Alright. Pack your bags. You leave tomorrow." After the call, I ran a hand down my wedding dress. One last tear slipped out, quiet and pointless. Cindy had another "episode" today. Claimed she'd off herself. Andrew canceled—again. I'd looked at him, drained. "It's the eighty-eighth time." He dropped his head, guilt all over him. "Just a little more time, Viv. She's been off since the accident. I'm scared she'll actually do it. I swear, I'll talk to her. For real this time. Then we'll get married. Promise." My parents didn't hesitate. "Vivian, let Andrew go. If Cindy hadn't gotten kidnapped trying to save you, she wouldn't have these breakdowns. Are you really putting a wedding over your sister's life?" "How could you be so selfish?" I'd heard it all before. Used to fight it. Not this time. If neither my fiancé nor my parents wanted me around, then fine. I'd leave.

The moms at the company post about me online, claiming the free daycare I provide for their kids is a "prison" and a vile tactic to force them to work overtime. What they don't know is that the daycare was set up with imported equipment and staffed by internationally trained professionals. It costs nearly eight thousand dollars a month per child to operate. The internet curses me out, calling me a show-off and disgusting capitalist. So I grit my teeth and send out a company-wide announcement. "To support everyone's desire to handle their own childcare, the company has decided to close the free daycare program. Effective immediately, it will be replaced with a childcare benefit. Eligible mothers will receive 200 dollars a month." As soon as the notice goes out, the moms panic. They crowd outside my office, begging me not to shut it down.

The air in the Parisian haute couture salon smelled like money and fear. I’d waited six months for my wedding dress. Now, it was draped over the shoulders of Sofia Ross—the trending influencer, and my mafia fiancé Vincent Cassio’s god-sister. The salon manager was sweating bullets, his eyes darting between me and the man lounging on the velvet sofa. Vincent Cassio stood up. He adjusted a fold of the diamond-encrusted train on Sofia with a casual flick of his wrist. “Her premiere next week needs a statement piece. She’s borrowing it. Pick something off the rack and stop making a scene.” His tone was flat, final. Under the crystal chandeliers, Sofia admired herself in the full-length mirror, a triumphant smile on her lips. I looked at my reflection in the same mirror, wearing jeans and a soaked trench coat. I looked like a lost tourist. Suddenly, the entire past year of planning felt like a sick joke. I didn’t yell. I just felt cold. Numb. I slipped the five-carat engagement ring off my finger. It hit the glass coffee table with a sharp, final click. “You’re right, Vincent. I don’t need this wedding dress. This wedding… I don’t need it either.”

At a concert seven years ago, the iconic singer, Carmen Rowe, announced her sudden retirement from the music industry. She had found the boy she'd been searching for. The boy, now known as Ben Lewis, was the CEO of Lewis Group and had lost his eyesight in a car accident. Carmen pretended to be a mute and stayed by his side. Under her meticulous care, Ben eventually regained his vision after removing his bandages. However, the moment he could see again, he ran straight to his first love, Carmela Taylor. Heartbroken by the rejection despite all she had done, Carmen decided to divorce Ben and return to the music industry with her daughter. Later, Ben organized a grand comeback concert for Carmela. But during the performance, he recognized that Carmela's voice wasn't the legendary one he remembered. It was only then that he realized the truth. By that time, Carmen Rowe had fully reclaimed her status as the top music diva and had no intention of giving Ben another chance.

It is said that Marco Colombo, the heir of the Colombo family of Chiron, is holding a wedding for his mistress, Gina Bilotti, today. The scale is ten times grander than when he marries Isabella Pratico in a political union. I lean against the ebony railing on the second floor. Sipping my red wine, I watch the lively scene of clinking glasses and mingling guests below with quiet amusement. Gina is definitely favored—she is even wearing a ruby necklace. One should know that set of ruby jewelry is an heirloom of the Colombo family. It is something only the Donna and the wife of the heir are allowed to wear. "You must be Isabella, the one Marco who does not love." A voice suddenly comes from beside me. I turn my head and see the woman wearing the ruby necklace before me. Gina has come up to the second floor at some point and is now looking at me with a cunning smile on her face. I freeze for a moment, not yet able to respond. She suddenly grabs my hand and yanks it hard toward herself. There is a sharp tearing sound, and the hem of her wedding dress rips open with a long tear. Gina lets out a cry, and tears immediately stream down her face. "Mrs. Colombo, why did you tear my wedding dress? Marco specially commissioned this from an independent designer just for our wedding! "If you really cannot tolerate my presence, then I will break up with Marco today and leave Chiron…" The surrounding guests all lift their heads and glare at me angrily. I am stunned because I am not Isabella. I am the new wife of Marco's father, the woman of the current Don, and the Donna of the Colombo family.

"Don't move. Your dress isn't on properly." Alpha Leo Stonewell lifted a hand to adjust my ceremonial gown. But the next second, the words that came out of his mouth sent a chill down my spine. "Layla, let Lilith wear this dress instead. Don't show up at our marking ceremony on the night of the full moon. She'll take your place then." I looked up immediately. "Have you lost your mind?" He sighed softly as if to suggest I was being unreasonable. "Lilith is just an Omega in the pack. I can't bear to let her stay with me without a rightful title. Tomorrow, I'll officially mark her during the ceremony." The northern wind sliced across my face. It felt bitterly cold, but it could hardly compare to the freezing ache in my chest. "We're supposed to become mates tomorrow. If you're going to mark her, then what did the past ten years between us even mean?" Leo frowned. Impatience crept into his voice. "Your wolf spirit has been dormant all this time. To the other werewolves in the pack, you're no different from an Omega. Layla, don't worry. Even if I mark her, I'll still take care of you for the rest of your life. Let her have this marking ceremony. Lilith is young and beautiful. She can't handle being wronged." My face slowly drained of color. If this Alpha thought I wasn't as young or beautiful as Lilith Lambert, then I didn't want him as my mate either.

"She fought for this Blood Moon wedding for years, only to be abandoned by her fiancé 88 times. Every time, Andrew chose her adopted sister Cindy. Every time, her family asked Vivian to give in. After the 88th ruined wedding, Vivian removed her ring and walked away. This time, she would never return. Only after losing her did they realize they had destroyed their own happiness.

At the party for our first wedding anniversary, I hit the floor—face-first on a red carpet, gasping like a fish out of water. Carlo Pipino, my husband, had his arm draped around Gianna Verde, his childhood flame, sipping champagne and laughing. Gianna knew I was allergic to nuts. So, obviously, she bathed everything in hazelnut dressing. One bite and boom—my throat locked, my lungs lit up, and hives popped like confetti. I reached for my allergy meds—came up with a fistful of melted M&Ms instead. Gianna laughed when she saw my face. "Surprise! Carlo swapped your meds. Seriously, Siena, one nut? Dramatic much?" I slid off my chair, wheezing, while the crowd placed bets on how long my "performance" would last. "Carlo... my meds..." I croaked. "Please. I'm gonna die." He sighed, annoyed. "God, you're so dramatic. Why do women always play dead for attention? You know I love you. Just stop this show already." Right then, my heart shattered faster than my lungs could. I stopped begging. Hit the distress signal. Called my real family.

At the party for our first wedding anniversary, I hit the floor—face-first on a red carpet, gasping like a fish out of water. Carlo Pipino, my husband, had his arm draped around Gianna Verde, his childhood flame, sipping champagne and laughing. Gianna knew I was allergic to nuts. So, obviously, she bathed everything in hazelnut dressing. One bite and boom—my throat locked, my lungs lit up, and hives popped like confetti. I reached for my allergy meds—came up with a fistful of melted M&Ms instead. Gianna laughed when she saw my face. "Surprise! Carlo swapped your meds. Seriously, Siena, one nut? Dramatic much?" I slid off my chair, wheezing, while the crowd placed bets on how long my "performance" would last. "Carlo... my meds..." I croaked. "Please. I'm gonna die." He sighed, annoyed. "God, you're so dramatic. Why do women always play dead for attention? You know I love you. Just stop this show already." Right then, my heart shattered faster than my lungs could. I stopped begging. Hit the distress signal. Called my real family.