The Second Chance for A Mafia's Runaway Bride

“Can you be more reasonable, Aletta?” Lorenzo asked and now his tone is somehow back to being normal of him. Cold. Always cold on me. “Enough with your tantrums.”

My voice tinged with disbelief next. “Hah! Wow…” I snickered then calmed myself. “Okay, Lorenzo…” I shrugged. “Reunion, eh? Then, yeah… I think I must be here. Why was I informed late?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, as if afraid I’d hang up. His tone changed, became lighter, thinking he again won over me. “Tomorrow is our wedding, and they plan to surprise us. But you’re not here and that's sad. I told them that I’ll bring you here. So, tell me where you are, Aletta, I’ll come pick you up.”

The sincerity in his voice was almost convincing. Almost.

I hesitated for a moment before sending him my location. There was no point in arguing. He would find me either way.

Ten minutes later, the low growl of his Urus broke the silence of the quiet street. Lorenzo pulled up beside me, the sleek black car gleaming under the faint glow of the streetlights. He stepped out, his tailored suit impeccable as always, but there was a shadow in his eyes—something restless, something unresolved.

“What?” Lorenzo asked as I wasn’t standing yet even though he already approached me. “You’re still sitting here? It’s our big day tomorrow, Aletta. We will be husband and wife. You already know how busy I am managing the organization and my other businesses, I expect you to—”

“Big day,” I snapped, my voice flat. “Right.”

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “Aletta, please. Can we not do this tonight?”

I stood, brushing off my dress. “Do what, Lorenzo? I wasn’t aware we are into something at all. And what was that, anyway?”

His jaw tightened, the flash of frustration unmistakable. “You know what I mean. Look, I’m trying here. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to kill the excitement everyone in our family has for tomorrow.”

“Neither do I,” I said calmly. “But it’s funny how that only seems to matter when you’re the one uncomfortable.”

He took a step closer, his hand reaching for mine. “Aletta, I—”

“Save it,” I interrupted, pulling away. “There’s a reunion that we need to attend, right? Then, let’s just go.”

I opened the front passenger door as usual, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. But something caught my eye—a pink cushion sitting on the seat, a garish pop of color in Lorenzo’s sleek black luxury car.

It wasn’t mine.

My gaze shifted to the spot where a safety charm I’d once begged him to hang used to dangle. It was gone, replaced by a pendant—a moon and stars entwined. The kind of thing a couple would share.

My chest tightened for another insult, but I forced myself to remain calm. Silently, I moved the cushion aside, pretending I hadn’t noticed. That was when I saw it.

A lace strap. Torn. Black. Lingerie.

The metallic taste of betrayal surged in my throat, but I swallowed it back. Calm. Always calm. I grabbed a tissue, wiping my hands as if the fabric had left a stain on me. Without a word, I slipped into the back seat, eager to put distance between myself and the quiet mockery of the pink cushion.

Lorenzo didn’t notice. His eyes were fixed on his phone, his fingers flying across the screen.

“So,” he asked casually, not looking up, “what made you go to the park alone? Are you done wrapping up all the wedding stuff?”

“Almost done.” My voice was even, but inside, I felt a thousand fractures deepening.

He smiled, a gesture that had once melted my heart but now felt hollow. “I remember how much you always wanted to ride the Ferris wheel. When I get the chance, I’ll take you out for some fun.”

“It’s fine,” I said, turning my gaze out the window, fastening my seatbelt with deliberate slowness.

To Lorenzo, the wedding was just another transaction, a duty to check off his list. To him, I was something that came with the title of being a ‘good patriarch.’ Something useful for his image.

He finally set his phone aside and started the engine. The soft melody of a song played through the speakers. Stefania’s favorite. Of course.

The city blurred past as I focused on the neon lights that reflected against the Urus’ windows, a stark contrast to the stars above. I thought of the stars often—constant, untouched by human failings. But tonight, even their beauty felt dimmed, obscured by the haze of everything I couldn’t put into words.

When we arrived at Lorenzo’s family’s Elysian Manor, he strode ahead without a backward glance. That was Lorenzo—always walking ahead, never bothering to see if I was following.

Inside, the house was alive with movement. The remnants of a meal sat untouched on the dining table, and the aroma of stale wine lingered in the air. The maids bustled about, clearing plates while laughter echoed from the sitting room. Lorenzo disappeared into the warmth of that laughter, where Stefania’s voice rose above the rest, light and carefree.

I stood in the doorway, feeling like an outsider in a life I was supposed to call my own. Then Gloria, Lorenzo’s mother, noticed me.

“Aletta, come sit with me.” Her voice was soft, her smile warm, as she reached out to take my hand. “You’re such a good girl. So simple, so beautiful, and so dedicated to this family. Women like you are rare these days.”

I nodded, offering the polite smile I’d perfected over the years. A smile that said everything they wanted to hear and nothing of what I truly felt.

Gloria’s gaze flickered toward Stefania, her tone shifting just slightly. “Though, with Lorenzo’s position, he could have found someone more... fitting, I’ve always told him to value what he has.”

Her words sliced through me. Sharp. Precise.

“You’ve been with him all these years without a word of complaint. You deserve more than this,” Gloria added, her eyes lingering on my face as though searching for a crack in my composure. And then the coup de grâce came next. “Aletta, you’re not getting any younger. Why not quit your job and give the Corvino family a strong, healthy child? Stay home, care for your husband, and raise children once you're married—be the dutiful wife and mother for our family.”

Every muscle in my body tensed. Still, I smiled. If I weren’t leaving tomorrow, I would have stood up and shouted everything. And tell them proudly that I already quit my job. I already resigned but not for Lorenzo, and not to carry their family’s heir.

To them, I wasn’t a person. I was a tool—a womb to bear heirs, a pretty ornament to sit quietly by Lorenzo’s side at social events, and remain meek and submissive even if their son kept a mistress in the form of Stefania.

Most of all, for them I was replaceable.

Stefania’s laughter from across the room echoed louder, a sharp reminder of just how replaceable I was.