The Second Chance for A Mafia's Runaway Bride

“Who was that? I thought I heard something about a visa,” Lorenzo asked casually, his gaze fixed on his phone, scrolling as always. I don’t know what time he got home last night. And I didn’t care to ask.

“It’s nothing. Just work-related,” I replied, my tone light, dismissive.

His shoulders relaxed, the tension leaving him with a quiet sigh. “Good. I hope you’re not planning some extravagant honeymoon. I don’t have time for that.”

“I know,” I said simply.

Since Stefania had returned to his life, Lorenzo barely had room for anything—or anyone—else. It was obvious, even in the smallest moments. We were sitting side by side on the couch, but the silence between us was palpable. Heavy. Suffocating.

The quiet stretched on until I couldn’t bear it any longer. I stood and went to the bedroom. When I returned, Lorenzo held the crescent moon necklace. “This,” he said. “How did it end up with you? I’ve been looking for it everywhere.”

“I found it on the road,” I replied. “Only realized it was yours after I saw your lost item post online. I wanna give it to you, anyway. Since you have it, no surprise wedding gift then.”

Lorenzo’s eyes flicked to the necklace, a spark of recognition lighting up his face. “Yeah. Thanks.”

I nodded, feigning indifference. It didn’t escape me that he had spent two million dollars searching for that trinket—because it belonged to Stefania. Meanwhile, the total cost of our wedding barely reached six hundred thousand.

The favoritism was so blatant, it was almost laughable.

“You seem relieved,” I said coolly. “By the way… where’s our wedding rings?” I asked since he said he will show those to me.

That caught him off guard. His hand instinctively went to his pocket, “I… I forgot it.”

I stared at him, silent, unyielding. Something flickered in his expression—uncertainty, discomfort. Lorenzo Corvino, the man who ruled his organization with an iron fist, looked uneasy under my gaze.

He shifted in his seat, opening his mouth as if to explain. But before he could, his phone buzzed. The screen lit up with Stefania’s name.

Without a word, Lorenzo stood. The tension in his shoulders spoke louder than any excuse he could have offered. He took a step toward the door but stopped halfway. Turning back, he leaned down and pressed a fleeting kiss to my forehead.

“Sorry, mia moglie,” he murmured, his voice unusually soft. “I’ve been so caught up lately. You’ve had to handle everything on your own.”

I didn’t respond. I just smiled. Acting dumb again in his eyes.

“I promise,” he continued, a faint smile playing on his lips, “once this busy schedule is over, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world.”

He said the words like a man reciting lines from a script—lines that had worked wonders before. If this had been the past, I might have believed him. I might have clung to those words, hoping against hope that they were true.

But not now. Not anymore.

I watched him walk out, closing the door behind him without a backward glance. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. His sweet words were nothing but sugar coating over a bitter reality that once might have made my heart flutter.

****

The following day, the last two days before the wedding, dawned gray and overcast. Only two thin pages remained on the calendar in the living room. I tore one page without ceremony, my eyes lingering on today’s wish—Have a reunion dinner together with families.

It was a wish I had clung to for years, a dream born from the fracture of my family. But just as my mother could never forgive my father, I could never forgive Lorenzo.

I didn’t dwell on it. There was no point.

Instead, I applied a light touch of makeup, slipping into a black and red dress I’d always loved. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was enough to remind me of who I was—before Lorenzo, before Stefania, before all of this.

I spent the day alone. I went to the movies, ordering a full couple’s meal for myself. The server gave me a curious look, but I ignored it, savoring the food without a care for how it might appear.

Next, I rode the Ferris wheel. It was something I’d always wanted to do, though Lorenzo had never found the time. As the gondola climbed higher, the city stretched out before me. The sun began its slow descent, casting everything in a golden, almost ethereal light.

At the highest point, I opened the gondola’s window and let the wind rush in. The breeze kissed my face, carrying away the remnants of sadness that clung to me like a second skin. For the first time in years being with Lorenzo, I felt weightless. Free.

I opened my arms and let the moment wash over me.

The memories—the fights, the lies, the betrayals—seemed to drift away with the wind, fading into the horizon as the sun disappeared below it. In their place, there was only peace.

The Ferris wheel slowed to a gentle halt, and I stepped off, still carrying the faint remnants of the breeze that had seemed to cleanse me. As I walked through the park, the colorful lights from nearby attractions painted the ground in shifting patterns. My heels clicked against the pavement, a steady rhythm that matched the calm resolve building in my chest.

“Miss Damsel!”

The voice was soft but unmistakable. I turned to see Matteo standing a few paces away, his tall frame silhouetted against the glowing carnival lights. His eyes were fixed on me, a mixture of concern and something deeper flickering in their depths.

“Matteo,” I said, my tone neutral. “What’s the need to follow me even here?”

He stepped closer, his presence grounding me in a way I couldn’t quite explain. “I could ask you the same thing. Riding a Ferris wheel alone, dressed like you’re going for some date night? That’s quite lonely!”

I rolled my eyes and turned to walk away. “I wanted to be alone.”

“Clearly,” he replied, following. “But you know I can’t just let you wander around without keeping an eye on you, Miss Damsel.”

I stopped walking, faced him. “What you can’t comprehend in what I said?”

“Same question for you, Damsel. What you don’t get when I say ‘I can’t just let you wander without keeping an eye on you,’ huh?’

“What’s your problem?” I annoyingly asked. “Don’t tell me you wanna keep your act playing a loyal dog of Lorenzo when in fact you already suggested something ‘revenge,’ right?”

“Act?” He grinned. “Aren’t we on the same boat?”