Ten Years for His Sicilian Lie

I wiped my tears, forced myself to my feet, and stumbled to the nearest pharmacy. I swallowed the bitter pill, my heart turning to ice on the walk back to the empty room.

I lay down, staring at the ceiling, replaying the last ten years in my mind.

Dante and I had grown up together. He was the son of New York's most powerful mafia Don, and while most kids were afraid of him, I never was.

I had always stood by his side, even when he pretended he didn't need anyone. But I knew the truth.

I'd seen the light in his eyes, even when he tried to push me away.

I fell asleep under the weight of a decade of memories, only to be jolted awake by a video call from my best friend, Chloe Martinez.

"Bella! Why aren't you at the gala? Oh my god, Dante just went on stage with Sofia! He's putting the Moretti family ring on her finger! They're announcing their engagement in front of everyone, and they're all cheering! Don't they know you were supposed to be his date?"

Chloe flipped her phone's camera around to show me Dante.

Dante and Sofia stood in the center of the stage, locked in a deep, passionate kiss. His eyes were closed, completely lost in the moment.

I realized then—in all our passion last night, we hadn't even kissed. In a moment of heated desire, I had leaned in to kiss him, but he had turned his head away.

"Sorry, I have to save that for my future wife," he'd said.

Like a fool, I had believed him. And now, he was kissing Sofia without a second thought, in front of the world.

So, it wasn't that he didn't kiss. He just wouldn't kiss me.

Watching them on my phone, every cheer from the crowd felt like a needle driving into my heart, each one stabbing deeper until the air was squeezed from my lungs.

Just this afternoon, Dante had nonchalantly told Marco he was getting engaged to Sofia, and now, only a few hours later, he had announced it to the world.

Classic Dante. He always got what he wanted, no matter who he had to crush to get it.

When the ball officially began, Dante naturally asked Sofia for the first dance. They swirled in the center of the dance floor, a spotlight illuminating them as the surrounding guests watched, captivated.

Everyone admired the perfect picture they made.

Except for me.

As the song ended, Dante rested his forehead against Sofia's, their lips less than an inch apart.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and the two leaned in for another kiss, lost to the world around them.

I cried until my eyes burned and no tears were left.

Chloe's voice cut through my haze of pain. "Bella, I know this hurts. I just want you to see him for what he is. Stop chasing Dante. He's not worth it. You deserve your own life."

My throat was raw, my voice barely a whisper. "I know."

I had been so foolish, blinded for years by a phantom affection, falling for someone who had never truly seen me.

Chloe's voice turned sharp. "He's a bastard, Bella. He knew exactly how you felt, and he loved it. He soaked up all your devotion while keeping you on the back burner. And look at him now—the second someone better for his ambition shows up, he tosses you aside without a second thought."

I forced a bitter smile. Everyone else had seen it so clearly; only I was trapped in the delusion that Dante might actually love me.