My Veil for His First Love

My fiancé, Lorenzo De Luca, insisted that his first love—Scarlett Thorne, from a rival family—attend our wedding.

Just as we were about to exchange vows, he abruptly halted the ceremony. Then, he descended from the altar and pulled Scarlett, clad in a white gown, from the crowd.

In front of all the allied families, he slid the family signet ring—my ring—onto her finger, declaring it was to fulfill a blood oath he'd once made to her.

Scarlett, her eyes glistening with tears, threw herself into Lorenzo's arms. Turning to his mother, my would-be mother-in-law, Isabella, she sobbed, "Mamma. Even if I can't become a De Luca, I just wanted to call you Mamma one last time."

She then turned and gave Lorenzo another passionate kiss.

A wave of shocked murmurs rippled through the pews. They whispered, eyes fixed on us, waiting for the Rossi family to become the day’s laughingstock.

But I simply smiled, pushed open the heavy church doors, then removed my own veil and placed it squarely on Scarlett's head.

"How could you not be a De Luca? Since you want him so badly—this traitor who would forsake his own family for a woman—then he's all yours."

————————

1

At my words, Scarlett Thorne crumpled into Lorenzo De Luca's arms. Even as she lost consciousness, her hands clutched his shoulders, refusing to let go.

And he, without a moment's hesitation, swept her into his arms and rushed her to a private hospital. Before storming out, he made sure to publicly berate me, calling me petty and blind to the bigger picture.

Lorenzo claimed I couldn't even swallow my pride for the sake of the alliance, that I was sabotaging it deliberately.

I'd been with Lorenzo for ten years. Our marriage contract had been sanctioned by the Commission long ago. It was only when I became pregnant with his child—an heir for the De Luca family—that his father, the Don, finally agreed to this public ceremony.

Until ten minutes ago, I still believed he would fulfill his duty, that I could finally secure a stable future for my family.

But now, my own mother was frantic. She struck me with her handbag, wailing that I had to chase after Lorenzo, to save our family.

My father glared at me as if I were the greatest failure of his life. He ripped the boutonnière I had handpicked for him from his lapel and ground it into the floor with his heel.

Isabella, who had always looked down on the Rossi family, berated me publicly, her expression stormy. She said I had no decorum, lacking the basic grace expected of a future Mamma.

She gripped my arm tightly, her sharp voice declaring, "If you want to be a De Luca, you will learn to be an obedient and submissive Principessa."

"Whatever you're feeling, you will learn to swallow it. And since you’ve ruined this ceremony, don't expect another."

Staring at Isabella's harsh, arrogant face, I finally understood that my decade of devotion hadn't earned me an ounce of loyalty.

After ten years with Lorenzo, I no longer wanted to marry into the De Luca family.

Before I could speak, Isabella grabbed my arm and signaled a Soldato to shove me toward the main doors.

"If you can't bring Lorenzo to his senses, don't you dare come back."

I looked back to see the manor's gates slam shut behind me with a resounding crash.

Ahead, a blizzard howled. Behind me, the tension was suffocating.

Although I stood there in my wedding dress, I felt utterly abandoned.

Before my tears could fall, the gates opened again. My parents walked towards me.

The moment I saw them, all the grievances I had been holding back surged up. I lowered my voice and called out softly, just as I had as a child, "Mamma."

However, my mother Sofia's expression curdled.

"Don't you dare call me Mamma! I warned you not to throw your spoiled little tantrums, and look at what you've done! You drove Lorenzo away."

"You've ruined our alliance! How are your father and I supposed to hold our heads high in front of the other families?"

Her ice-cold voice plunged like a dagger into my heart.

"Go now! Do as Donna Isabella said and bring Lorenzo back. If he won't have you, what about the heir you're carrying?" my mother snapped.

Without another word, my father Marco and my mother turned and went back inside, and the gates slammed shut again with a deafening clang.

I stood there, letting snowflakes melt on my eyelashes, though no tears fell.

The ceremony was held at a lakeside manor on the outskirts of Chicago. I tried to call a car, but my phone had no signal. I had no choice but to clutch my thin wedding dress tighter and trudge into the swirling snowstorm.

The vast expanse of snow and wind soaked my wedding dress, the white lace staining with mud until it was a dirty gray.

Just like my so-called love.

I don't know how long I walked. My wedding dress grew heavier and heavier with melted snow.