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My Groom Chose Her Over Our Wedding Novel Cover

My Groom Chose Her Over Our Wedding

For twenty years, my destiny was tied to Domenico by a sacred blood-promise. But after an ambush in Naples, he returned with Ginevra, the woman who saved him, and cast me aside to repay his debt. When he abandons our wedding ceremony to tend to her, I finally break. Refusing to be neglected any longer, I call my uncle to accept an alliance with Salvatore instead. But when my former fiancé realizes I have moved on to love another, he returns to beg on his knees for my forgiveness.
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Chapter 5

Not long after, another message came in. Not Domenico this time. Donatella. His mother.

I managed to convince him to actually go through with the wedding tomorrow. Maybe that would make you stay. If not… then at least let me help you leave. For all the things my son has done, let me be the one to make it right.

I stared at the message until my vision blurred. My chest tightened, not with love, but with the cruel ache of wasted years. Donatella was trying to clean up the wreckage Domenico left behind, but it was too late.

The cake, the wedding, his sudden desperation. All nothing but ashes.

Tomorrow, I would walk away. Not just from Domenico, not just from Ginevra, not just from this compound that had been both a palace and a prison. But from the girl who once believed in promises that turned to poison.

Tomorrow, I would leave everything.

I typed back with trembling fingers.

Nothing could change my mind anymore. I'm sorry, but thank you…

For a long time after pressing send, I just sat there, staring at the screen, waiting for the impossible. Waiting for him to walk through the door, waiting for footsteps that never came. Outside, the compound was silent. The soldiers on perimeter rotation passed the window at intervals, their shadows marking the hours better than any clock.

The hours dragged. Midnight came and went. Still, no Domenico.

My phone lit up at dawn. A message from him.

Ginevra needed me. She fractured her legs while cleaning and moving things. Don't worry, tomorrow we'll see each other at the ceremony. I'll make it up to you on the honeymoon.

I didn't even realize I was laughing until I felt the burn of tears on my cheeks. Ginevra was always the reason. Always her pain, her needs, her place beside him, while I was left with promises as brittle as glass.

That afternoon, Enzio arrived at my door, holding a white box. He placed both hands flat on the table, palms down, fingers spread, before setting the box gently upon it. He bowed. "From Don Domenico, Signora."

My heart stuttered. For one foolish second, I thought maybe, just maybe, he remembered. That he had listened. That he had brought my real favorite because he remembered us. Because he remembered me.

I opened the box. The scent hit me instantly. Blueberry.

I froze. My throat tightened as the truth sank in. He hadn't remembered me at all. I had always been allergic to blueberries. It was Ginevra who loved blueberries. Ginevra who devoured it every chance she got.

I just told him in case… hoping. But I stood there, staring at it, the final nail in the coffin of our years together. That was the last straw. Whatever hope still lingered inside me shattered clean through.

My phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't Domenico.

"Serafina," Salvatore's deep, steady voice came through. "Everything is ready. I'll be waiting at the airstrip. Don't be late."

I closed my eyes, inhaling slowly as if to anchor myself. My fingers found the bare skin at the hollow of my throat, pressing against the place where the saint's medallion used to hang. My hands trembled, but not from fear. From resolve. The chains Domenico bound me with had finally snapped.

"Alright," I whispered into the phone, my gaze fixed on the untouched cake. "I'll be there."

The next morning, as I prepared to leave, I heard voices in the hall. Enzio again, this time whispering hurriedly into his phone.

"…Yes, Don Domenico is planning to propose to Signorina Ginevra later this evening. Everything is ready. And make sure that Signorina Serafina would never know about this. After all, the ceremony is gonna be fake."

My breath hitched, then escaped in a sharp laugh. A bitter, broken sound that echoed off the walls.

So this was it. Every promise, every vow, every touch, all lies. The ceremony, the future he painted, nothing but a performance while he gave his heart to someone else.

A hollow ache spread in my chest. Fool. That's what I'd been. Twenty years wasted on love that never existed. I should have left long before Ginevra, before betrayal carved me hollow.

But now… I wasn't broken. I was free. Once everything turns to ashes, there's nothing left to fear.

I walked out of that compound, my prison, my battlefield, my graveyard, and didn't look back.

At the gates, a voice called out. Nico, one of Domenico's old associates, the kind who had always hovered at Sunday dinners and Family gatherings, suddenly appeared, rushing toward me.

"Where are you going, Serafina? Wait, are you leaving? I thought today would be your special day with Domenico. That is why he asked me to come…" He looked stunned, laughing a beat too late, as though he couldn't quite believe I was truly leaving.

"Actually, it's his special day with Ginevra. I am marrying someone else."

His eyes widened. "You're really marrying someone else? Does Domenico know? Wait, what is happening?"

At the mention of Domenico, my smile faded. The ache in my chest threatened to crush me, but I shook my head. "No. He won't know." I glanced at the time. "It's late. I have to leave now. Tell Domenico my greetings."

I slid into the car, closed the door, and as it pulled away, the Valente compound shrank behind me.

Just as we reached the gates, another car passed ours. For the briefest moment, I saw Domenico's silhouette behind the wheel. He was gripping something small in his hand, something that gleamed faintly in the morning light. A ring box. A proposal for Ginevra, it seemed, as I would be left alone for the third time. But I refused.

I turned my head away, pressing my palm to my stomach as if to hold myself together.

He and Ginevra would never be separated again… as I finally had my freedom.

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