My Wedding with the Mafia Boss, and You Won’t Be There

The yacht slid into the port just as the first hints of dawn painted the horizon.

Not a word passed my lips. Not Antonio. Not Diego. Not even Cassandra—the same Cassandra who had cried last night so convincingly I almost believed her act. Almost.

I stepped onto the dock in silence, waterlogged and shivering from the near-drowning, my skin still prickling from the salt and from humiliation that ran deeper than the sea. Antonio had thrown me overboard, and he hadn’t hesitated.

“That’s your lesson,” he’d said later, standing on the deck like a Don delivering judgment. “Jealousy has a price. Acting like the world owes you favors? Even more so.”

No apology. No hand reaching for me. No remorse in his gaze. And the stranger who had plunged in to pull me from the water? Gone. Vanished like smoke, leaving no name, no word, no acknowledgment. Just a phantom who’d saved me and disappeared into the dockside crowd.

I stumbled home alone. Shivering, exhausted, finished. As soon as the apartment door clicked behind me, I didn’t scream. I didn’t break. I began to pack.

Drawers yawned open, suitcases filled with everything I considered valuable—clothes, passports, hard drives, and the necklace my grandmother had left me. Anything untouched by their corruption was coming with me.

I folded the last coat when my phone buzzed.

A message. From Cassandra. No subtlety this time.

“Hey Serafina~ check my Insta! New pics!!”

The audacity.

I swiped. Knew exactly what awaited me.

There she was. Crowned in smugness, draped in one of my Milan silk robes—the pink one I’d left on the yacht. Antonio beside her, shirtless, half-asleep, his arm curled around her as if she were royalty, his nose brushing against her skin like possession. Diego on her other side, gripping her like a bodyguard to a queen. A queen of vipers.

Caption:

“Best night ever with my fav boys. Thanks for making my birthday unforgettable. Loved every whip, every smear of cream.”

“Guess what, Serafina? Antonio even gave me your brand-new car. Said it was his money anyway. But don’t worry—I’ll lend it… if you beg.”

She posted my car. I laughed quietly.

Tapped the little heart beneath her post, let it turn red, and tossed the phone onto the bed. Tomorrow, I’d vanish. And when I left, there would be no ghosts coming with me.

---

That afternoon, I handed in my resignation at the firm. Smiled, shook hands, acted polite while dismantling my entire existence. Once back at the apartment, it was time to burn the bridges that remained.

From under the bed, I pulled a battered leather chest—heavy with history and betrayals. Inside were remnants of our past: keepsakes, promises, ghosts.

Antonio’s silver chain, engraved with our secret phrase. Diego’s worn lighter, cold and familiar, steeped in smoky memories. Antonio’s luxury watch, face cracked, stopped forever.

Folded letters from when I was sixteen, fragile poems I once believed eternal. Notes from Diego, slipped beneath my dorm door during sleepless nights.

Antonio’s leather jacket, faintly scented with his cologne. Diego’s dented motorcycle helmet, the object of countless foolish bets. The tiny music box that had played our song, now silent, collecting dust.

Click. Flame.

The jacket went first, curling black as I tossed in letters, the necklace, the lighter, the broken watch. Flames licked at the remnants of us with ravenous delight.

By the time Antonio stormed into the room, half my history had turned to ash.

“Serafina—what the hell are you doing?!” he shouted, eyes wide, panic cracking his voice.

I didn’t flinch. “Cleaning up rot.”

“Bullshit!” he growled, stepping closer, desperation flashing. “These aren’t things. They’re memories!”

Diego lunged for the chest but recoiled when the heat singed his fingers. “You’re insane. You just destroyed everything we shared!”

I met them both with cold clarity. “You handed my car to Cassandra. She gets the rewards—she can have the memories too.”

Antonio’s jaw tightened. “You’re serious? This isn’t over? Last night, you ruined her birthday. You’re childish, Serafina.”

I smiled, bitter, composed. “I’m finished. This is the last time… you’ll ever see me.”

They watched the smoke curl, ashes settling, the remnants of a life they never appreciated. Funny how they’d fought tooth and nail for Cassandra’s fabricated tears—but when my world was breaking, not a single one of them asked why.

And now, they cried over the ruins I left behind.