Erased From The Frame: Runaway Bride

Gia POV

I jolted awake on the couch, pulled from an exhausted sleep by the relentless, angry buzzing of my phone.

The screen glared with 99+ missed notifications in the encrypted wedding prep group chat.

Sienna had tagged me in a voice note.

I pressed play, and her bright, piercingly confident voice vibrated against the glass of the coffee table, shattering the quiet of my living room.

"Gia, I changed the traditional Sicilian wedding march to something a little more upbeat. Your choice was way too depressing for a modern mob wedding."

I lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling.

The song she had just casually discarded was the exact melody my parents had danced to the night before they were violently murdered.

I had spent an entire month tracking down the original, scratchy vinyl recording just to feel a piece of them on my wedding day.

Both Dante and Sienna knew exactly what that song meant to me.

I scrolled down to see Dante's response in the chat, my chest tightening.

It was a single word.

'Yeah.'

He had validated her blatant disrespect without a single second thought.

Sienna sent another message to the group.

'Gia doesn't really understand the modern mob aesthetic. Dante and I will handle the big decisions from here on out.'

I stared at Dante's simple message of agreement on the glowing screen.

My agency in this union was officially gone.

I opened my private chat with Dante.

Our last exchange was yesterday morning—a brief, sterile confirmation about a security detail.

He had never even asked why I left the boutique early.

My phone vibrated violently in my hand, startling me.

Sienna was video-calling me.

I swiped to answer, keeping my expression an unreadable mask.

Sienna's face filled the screen, her blonde hair perfectly styled and framing her flawless features.

"I just booked and tested the glam squad for the wedding morning," she announced, flashing a smug, self-satisfied smile. "They are exclusively mine now."

I swallowed the hard, bitter lump in my throat.

"I already arranged my own trusted people," I said quietly.

"Well, cancel them," Sienna demanded without missing a beat. "Mine are better. Besides, you won't need much done anyway."

She ended the call before I could even formulate a reply.

I dropped the phone onto the coffee table, the dull thud echoing in the silence.

Did my desires ever actually matter to them?

I had always yielded.

I had yielded my childhood to protect her from the bloody, merciless reality of the vendetta.

I had watched Silvio favor her at every single Family gathering, showering her with the affection I was denied.

I had watched Dante slowly shift his loyalty, his dark, predatory eyes tracking her reckless movements while completely ignoring my quiet, steadfast devotion.

I had tried to talk to Dante about it once.

I had told him that her constant presence in our private lives was suffocating me.

He had dismissed it with a cold, unforgiving glare.

He had called it 'sisterly bonding' and told me I was being overly sensitive.

He had ended the discussion with a sharp, downward slice of his hand, a gesture that physically cut off my words mid-sentence.

I stood up and walked to the window, looking out over the sprawling city.

I remembered cleaning up the broken glass all by myself after Sienna threw tantrums when we were kids.

No one had ever asked if my hands were bleeding.

No one had ever asked if I was tired.

I picked up my phone and dialed my landlord.

"I need to break my lease," I said the split second he answered.

"Miss Gia? But you've lived there for four years," the civilian landlord said, shock coloring his voice.

"I'm leaving the city," I replied, my voice steady, though the tips of my fingers, where they gripped the phone, had begun to spasm, turning the nail beds a dead, bruised blue.

I had rented this specific penthouse because it was exactly three blocks from Dante's legitimate corporate front.

I had been desperate for his proximity.

Desperate for even a fraction of his attention.

I ended the call and started pulling empty suitcases from the hall closet, moving on autopilot.

The front door unlocked with a sharp, invasive click.

Dante and Sienna walked into my penthouse unannounced.

Dante had a key to my home—a mocking symbol of his unrestricted access to my life.

Sienna walked straight into the living room, a wide, entitled smile on her face.

"Dante and I were just at the marital estate," Sienna said, tossing her designer bag carelessly onto my sofa. "I want the master suite."

I froze, my hand gripping the handle of a suitcase so tightly my knuckles turned white.

The master suite in the Don's heavily fortified estate was meant strictly for the Don and his wife.

Dante stood near the doorway, his hands casually tucked in his pockets.

"As long as your sister doesn't mind," Dante said indulgently, his tone sickeningly fond.

He looked at me, completely, arrogantly confident that I would yield.

Because I always yielded.

I let go of the suitcase and stood up straight, squaring my shoulders.

"What if I say I refuse?" I asked, my voice cutting through the quiet room like cracked glass.

Sienna froze.

Her lower lip trembled, and tears immediately welled up in her wide, innocent eyes.

Dante's entire posture shifted.

The relaxed, indulgent man vanished, instantly replaced by the terrifying, ruthless Dark Don.

The thermostat in the room seemed to have failed. I swallowed against a sudden dryness in my throat that felt like it might draw blood.

"It is just a room, Gia," Dante reprimanded, his voice dropping to a low, resonant timber that seemed to suck the warmth from the air. "Do not be petty."

I looked at the man I was supposed to marry in exactly seven days.

"It's the Don's suite," I said, my voice rising with years of suppressed agony. "Is she the one marrying you?"

Dante was momentarily stunned into silence.

His jaw tightened, a dangerous muscle ticking in his cheek.

Sienna let out a soft, broken sob and stepped closer to Dante, seeking his shadow.

"It's fine, Dante," she cried softly. "I won't move in. I don't want to cause trouble."

Dante wrapped a fiercely protective arm around Sienna's waist, pulling her flush against him.

He glared at me, his eyes dark with unjustifiable accusation.

"You are breaking your sister's heart over a meaningless piece of real estate," he said coldly.

"You secured her a lucrative, untouchable position in the Family's legitimate fronts," I pointed out, my hands shaking with adrenaline. "I have nothing. And now you want to give her my bedroom."

Dante's expression turned outright murderous.

He took a menacing step toward me, dropping his arm from Sienna.

"I only protect her because of you," he barked, the lie slipping easily from his lips. "Do not be ungrateful, Gia."

Sienna reached out and placed a delicate hand on his chest, and I watched the rigid line of his shoulders lose some of its tension.

Dante's lethal demeanor softened instantly under her touch.

He looked back at me, his decision final.

"Sienna will take the suite," Dante declared, leaving no room for argument.

I stared at them for a long, hollow moment.

I didn't scream. I didn't cry.

I simply nodded, feeling the last thread of my devotion snap.

I turned my back to them and walked over to my suitcase, unzipping it with methodical precision.

"Can I change the curtains to pink?" Sienna asked cheerfully, her dramatic tears instantly gone as if they had never existed.

"Whatever you want," Dante replied, his voice softening just for her.

They left without another word, the door clicking shut behind them. I stood alone in the silence of my half-packed penthouse, staring at the empty suitcase before me.

I had finally said no. And it had cost me everything that was left.

I zipped the suitcase closed. It was time to stop fighting for a place that was never mine to begin with.