My Revenge Against My Fiancé Began at Our Wedding

We'd go to the amusement park, and Gemma would say she felt low and craved the crispy fried crab cakes they used to eat as children, so Lorenzo would leave me standing there and go buy them.

We'd mark an anniversary, and Gemma would say her kitten was sick, so Lorenzo would leave me and drive her to the vet.

We'd take a trip out of the territory, and Gemma would turn up in the middle of it, and under Lorenzo's doting eyes she'd take every scrap of his attention until I was the one left standing alone.

I cried over it. I made scenes. And still I couldn't bring myself to let the alliance go.

He'd grin and coax me out of it, and the next time nothing ever changed.

The reason was always the same one. She's your little sister, just give in to her.

And I gave in, all the way up to now. My alliance union. The legendary bridal artist my mother had reserved a full year ahead at great tribute, a mark of Vitale standing, and even she had to "give" the first honor to Gemma and Gemma's mother.

There was no elaborate bridal look left to do, so Ottavia Marchetti finished in a little over half an hour.

The sky at the edge of the estate was already turning pale.

My brothers arrived one after another, the Vitale soldiers and made men filing in, offered me a few quiet words, then found places to sit until the great room was packed.

The younger cousins, prepped to block the door for the bride pickup, sat stiff and proper, faces grave.

Francesca and Bianca flanked me, one on each side, like two temple guardians ready to charge into battle for me at any second.

Mother and Father sat in the seats of honor.

Father's face was stern. Mother smiled and told everyone to take some wine first, saying she'd be counting on all of them for what was coming, her tone as calm as if she were remarking on the fine weather. Lucian Vitale had his cigar going, saying nothing.

Lorenzo wasn't getting through, wasn't getting answers to his messages, and unease started to creep into him.

But he was confident Adriana loved him to death and knew how to keep up appearances before the Families, so she'd never blow up her own union.

He pushed that flicker of worry down and set out with the pickup party as usual.

Gemma climbed into the car partway and said she wanted to come along to fetch the bride.

He opened his mouth, some instinct telling him this wasn't a good idea, but he couldn't hold out against the girl's wheedling and said yes out of habit. He rubbed the back of his neck and let out a soft laugh, the way he always did.

The moment they reached the Vitale estate,

the great crimson wedding banners were hung, the red carpet was rolled out, and yet outside the door it was dead quiet. No people, not the faintest sign of a union.

The feeling in his gut turned worse.

He led everyone straight through with no soldier to stop them, right into the Vitale great room,

and saw a room black with people,

and Adriana in a plain white dress.

He knew this was bad,

and on instinct he pleaded with Adriana, the softest-hearted one of all:

"Adriana, what is all this? I'm here for the pickup. Come with me. The whole Family's waiting."

Gemma, wearing the dazzling, radiant face the legendary artist had poured everything into,

stepped forward in small steps and said, soft and sweet:

"Lorenzo told the artist to do my face first. Are you upset, Adriana? Then I'm sorry. Please don't make a scene today. Just go with Lorenzo first, okay?" She pressed a hand flat to her chest, and her eyes glistened right on cue.

My brothers looked itching to step in. I waved them off and gave my father a small nod.

Then I picked up a glass of water myself, walked forward, and did something none of them saw coming.