My Groom Chose Her Over Our Wedding

"Salvatore… that marriage you wanted me to have back then… is it still on the table?" My voice was hoarse, trembling, but I pressed on. "If yes, then pick me up by next week. I'm agreeing to that wedding."

There was silence at first, then his voice, confused, even alarmed. "Serafina? What are you talking about? Isn't today your ceremony with Domenico? I'm sorry for not coming because I was busy, but what happened? Why are you suddenly saying this?"

My chest rose and fell as I struggled to keep steady. "Because for the second time, he postponed our wedding ceremony… for Ginevra. So I'm done."

I heaved. "He's never gonna choose me again, so please, see me by next week, Salvatore. I'll do everything you want me to do if you pick me up from this misery."

Before he could respond, I ended the call. The weight of those words clung to me like lead, but there was also a strange kind of release, like finally cutting free from chains I had worn for too long.

I lowered the phone slowly, my hand trembling as I clutched the lace of my gown. Around me, the garden lights of the Valente compound still twinkled, strung across the old pergola like stars. The roses and lilies we had chosen together lined the stone path, their fragrance heavy in the night air. Tables set with the Family's best silver held food no one touched, champagne glasses half-empty.

And yet… there was no groom.

My wedding had become nothing but a spectacle of pity.

One by one, the guests approached me with hushed voices, their eyes heavy with sympathy. Capos' wives. Old associates. People who had watched me grow up inside this family and knew exactly what it meant that the heir had not shown.

"I'm so sorry, Serafina."

"You don't deserve this."

"He'll come around, don't worry."

Each word was like salt in an open wound. I stood there in my gown, the gown I had dreamed of since I was a girl, its white silk trailing across the grass, now stained by tears I tried to hide. My fingers found the hollow of my throat where my saint's medallion used to hang, pressing against bare skin, the old habit rising before I could stop it.

Domenico didn't come.

When I finally called him, desperate for an explanation, his voice was maddeningly calm, as though he had no idea what I was standing in the middle of.

"Babe, I'm sorry," he said. "Ginevra's burning with fever. I couldn't just leave her. We can just… do this again, okay? Next week. Or maybe skip the ceremony and just register the union. It's the same thing anyway."

Ginevra.

The name was enough to make my chest ache with bitterness. I closed my eyes, my hands tightening around the phone until my knuckles turned white. For twenty years, Domenico and I had been the blood-promised pair. Everyone in both Families knew it. Everyone expected the union once we turned twenty-five. It was supposed to be fate. Our destiny, sealed the night our fathers shook hands over wine when we were still children.

And it almost happened.

A year ago, the ceremony was already planned. I had my gown, my vows, my entire life laid out in front of me. But then Domenico took that cursed trip to Naples. The ambush on the water left him broken, missing for months. When he finally came back, he wasn't alone.

He came back with Ginevra, the woman who had pulled him from the wreckage, who had hidden him and nursed him while he recovered in a safehouse along the coast. And because of that, his family insisted she stay. The code demanded it. A life-debt had been incurred, and the Valente name did not leave debts unpaid.

Domenico promised her happiness.

At first, I agreed. I felt indebted too. Without Ginevra, Domenico might not even be alive. I told myself it was fine, that she would stay with us for a while, then leave once the debt was honored. But things never settled.

Because Domenico's loyalty shifted. It was no longer about us, about our future. It was about her. Ginevra.

When our ceremony was postponed the first time, I forgave him. I told myself love was patient. That I could understand. But now? Now it had been ninety-nine times. Ninety-nine excuses. Ninety-nine moments where he chose her over me.

And I realized. I wasn't his priority anymore.

I wasn't his choice.

The estate manager's voice broke my spiraling thoughts. "Miss Serafina… what about the food? Everything's been prepared for the guests."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Donate it," I said coldly, my voice sharper than I intended. "Give it to anyone who needs it. I don't care."

I grabbed my bag, my heels clicking against the stone courtyard as I walked out without looking back. Somewhere behind me, the compound's soldiers watched in silence. None of them moved to stop me. Even they understood.

The car ride home was quiet, but my chest wasn't. It burned with every memory, every broken promise. The house loomed in the distance, the one Domenico had given me as our supposed future home. A symbol of love, of promises of forever. But to me, it was nothing but an empty shell. Another piece of property in the Valente holdings, dressed up to look like devotion.

Inside, I moved quickly, almost frantically. My room became chaotic as I pulled open drawers, gathered everything Domenico and his family had given me. Diamonds, gold, letters, keepsakes, all the tokens of a love that had rotted from the inside. I stuffed them into a box, my hands trembling but determined.

The door creaked.

I turned sharply. Domenico was there, climbing the stairs, his expression caught somewhere between guilt and relief, as if his absence at our wedding was nothing more than a minor mistake. He still wore the dark suit he'd left in hours ago, the collar loosened, as though he had simply been delayed at a sit-down rather than standing up his blood-promised bride.

"Babe…" His voice softened as he stepped closer, arms opening like he could erase everything with one embrace. He pulled me into him before I could step back, his breath warm against my ear. "I'm sorry, for not coming, for letting you stand there alone. I regret it, I really do. But Ginevra was sick, and I couldn't just leave her. You understand, right?"

I pushed against his chest, my gown rustling as I tore myself from his hold. My eyes burned with fury, my voice trembling as it rose.

"That's your excuse? Domenico, this wasn't some dinner you postponed. It was our wedding. Our wedding!"

Domenico's jaw tightened, but he still tried to reach for me again, his voice low, coaxing, as though logic could make up for betrayal.

"Babe, listen to me. A ceremony is just for show. It's not what really matters. What's important is that we love each other, that we're already committed. We can sign the papers anytime, tomorrow even. The guests will forget, the families will understand… but Ginevra needed me."

My fury boiled over. I grabbed the ring he had given me, the diamonds that once sparkled with promise, and threw it at him. The sound of metal hitting the marble floor echoed like thunder through the quiet house.

And then I shoved the box into his chest. "Take it. Take everything back."

He froze, stunned. "Serafina, what are you—"

"There is no wedding!" My voice cracked, raw from the weight of my broken heart. "Because I'm breaking off the blood-promise!"