The Donna He Lost

At the night Lucia was leaning over Enzo’s mahogany desk when I entered the study, twirling something in her fingers.

My wedding ring.

She slid it onto her hand—effortlessly, perfectly—like it had always belonged there.

When I wore it, it spun loosely, one whole size too big.

Lucia held up her hand, admiring how the diamond caught the light.

“Oh,” she laughed softly, “it fits me just right. How funny.”

My throat tightened.

It was the same ring from the news photo.

“Must’ve been a mix-up at the jeweler,” she continued cheerfully, turning the band as if it were nothing more than a trinket. “But don’t be upset, Bianca. You know I adore rings. Enzo gives me one every holiday—he spoils me terribly.”

She shot me a sweet, poisonous smile.

“This time he probably just grabbed the wrong size out of habit.”

Enzo, standing beside her, didn’t deny it.

Lucia laughed again, then slid the ring off and placed it carefully on the table—right in front of him.

He merely said, “The wedding’s in a week. There’s still time to remake the ring.”

“Do you… want a different style? Sapphire instead of diamond?”

Then I stepped back. “Either is fine. I have work to get to.”

I walked away without waiting for their response.

Was that ring ever meant for me?

Or had it belonged to her from the very beginning?

I shook the thought off. It didn’t matter anymore.

I had already surrendered the wedding—

so whoever the ring truly belonged to… it no longer had anything to do with me.

That night, I found something on my pillow.

A lingerie box.

Black lace. Barely there.

A year ago, I might have blushed, slipped it on, and waited for him beneath the sheets—

his fingers tagging the lace straps down my hips, my breath trembling beneath his mouth, the world narrowing to nothing but his weight, his warmth, his name burning against my throat…

Now the lace felt like another trap.

When Enzo stepped into the room, his eyes darkened.

“You haven’t tried it on?”

“I’m tired,” I murmured, folding the sheer fabric back into the box.

His brows drew together, concern or irritation—I couldn’t tell.

He took a step toward me—

And the door slammed open.

“Enzo!” Lucia’s voice rang through the hall, breathless. “Someone attacked the south docks—the men need you now.”

Of course it was her.

Always her.

Enzo grabbed his gun from the nightstand without hesitation.

“Stay inside,” he ordered, already halfway out the door with Lucia close at his heels, her hand brushing his sleeve as they disappeared down the staircase together.

The lace box sat on my bed like a mocking reminder.

I wrapped a blanket around myself and stared at the ceiling until dawn.

The next morning, disaster nearly struck.

I had left the alteration forms on the kitchen island—a stupid, reckless mistake.

Not just the form changing the dress size…

…but the second form, the one instructing the planner to update the marriage register for the ceremony:

Groom: Enzo Marchello.

Bride: Lucia Ricci.

Enzo entered the kitchen holding one of the papers.

My heart stopped beating.

“Bianca?” he asked, holding up the dress alteration sheet. “You changed your gown size?”

He hadn’t picked up the other one.

God.

Thank God.

I lunged forward and snatched the form from his hand. “I—took the wrong one. That wasn’t supposed to be signed. Just ignore it.”

A lie, shaky and thin.

Enzo’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying my face as if reading something between the lines. For a terrifying second, I thought he’d reach for the other paper still half-hidden beneath a stack of envelopes.

But instead he smirked.

“I thought so. That size is way too small for you.”

His tone softened into teasing.

“You’ve never liked dieting.”

The comment should’ve stung.

Instead it felt like a reprieve—he suspected nothing.

I tucked the second form deeper under the stack the moment he turned away.

As we finished breakfast, Enzo cleared his throat.

“About the marriage registry,” he said casually. “Let’s go tomorrow. Sign the paperwork properly this time.”

My hand tightened around my mug.

Tomorrow he wanted to bind me to him on paper—permanently—just one week before a wedding he hadn’t even noticed was already changing brides.

I forced a smile.

“I’m…busy tomorrow. Work is crazy,” I said lightly. “Let’s just wait until after the ceremony. We can finalize everything then.”

Enzo studied me for a long moment, then nodded.

“As you wish.”

But his gaze lingered—longer than usual, almost searching.