The Fiancé My Best Friend Stole

The next afternoon, the doorbell rang.

On the camera, Sophia stood outside with two guards and three suitcases. Luca was beside her, a black coat over one arm.

I opened the door without thinking.

Sophia rushed forward and hugged me. "Elena, you scared me. I called you all morning. You left the wedding like you were going to vanish into the lake."

She sounded so honestly worried that the little anger I had managed to gather turned into something softer and worse. I let her hold me for two seconds, then carefully stepped back. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." She looked around the apartment and shivered. "God, this place is depressing. Luca said your building has the best private security in Lakeview, so we thought we could stay a few days. The Rossetti estate has been getting threats, and with the baby..."

Luca finally looked at me. "Sophia is pregnant. I wouldn't bring her here if there were another safe option."

I wanted to ask if he heard himself. Five years ago, this was supposed to be our home. Now he stood in the doorway with his pregnant wife and asked for shelter as if I were an old family contact.

Sophia touched my wrist. “Only a few days. I know it’s a lot to ask after the wedding, but I didn’t know where else to go. You’re the only person I trust.”

That was the cruelest sentence of all.

I stepped aside, but I looked at Luca before he crossed the threshold.

“Sophia can stay because she is my friend and she is pregnant,” I said.

“You are here because she needs protection. Don’t confuse that with forgiveness.”

Sophia released a breath and hugged me again. “Thank you. I knew you wouldn’t turn me away.”

I didn’t hug her back this time. My eyes stayed on Luca.

“Sophia gets the guest room,” I said. “You get the couch, the guards, or the hallway. I don’t care which. But you don’t get to walk through this apartment like it still belongs to you.”

“My bedroom and study are private.”

That night, Sophia made tea in my kitchen and talked about the wedding, the baby, and the doctors in Malta. Luca had been strange after waking up, she said, always polite, always guarded, never fully hers.

"Sometimes I think part of him stayed in that crash," she said, trying to laugh. "He can be so cold. You know men like that, right? Mafia sons with too much pride and no emotional vocabulary."

I held the mug with both hands because they wouldn't stop trembling.

"Yes," I said. "I know."

Across the room, Luca stood in the hallway and listened. I saw him in the dark reflection of the window. He watched me like he was waiting for me to accuse him.

I said nothing.