The scent of jasmine hung heavy in the air as I paced the gardens of Elysian Manor, the gravel crunching beneath my heels. The summer night was warm, the kind that used to bring me comfort as a child. But tonight, the air felt suffocating, wrapping around me like a noose.

This place, my sanctuary, now felt foreign, almost hostile. The weight of the engagement ring on my finger was unbearable, its once-beautiful glint now a cruel reminder of what I thought I had.

My chest tightened as I replayed what happened, each memory cutting deeper than the last. Lorenzo’s voice, cold and sharp. Stefania’s smirk. The humiliation painted on every face in the ballroom as I was shocked seeing my half-sister being back after running away a year and a half ago.

I came to a stop near the grand oak tree at the heart of the garden, its ancient roots twisting through the soil like veins. My fingers brushed against the rough bark as I leaned against it, my knees threatening to buckle. This tree had been my confidant once, a silent witness to whispered secrets and childhood dreams.

Now, it bore witness to my heartbreak.

My hands trembled as I pulled my phone from my purse. The screen illuminated in the darkness. For a moment, I stared at it, my thumb hovering over Mama’s name. Calling her meant admitting the truth—not just to her, but to myself.

The first tear slipped down my cheek, warm against the cool night air. I swiped it away angrily, forcing my hand to steady. I couldn’t afford to be weak. Finally, I pressed the call button.

“Mama, I want to call off the wedding.” My voice trembled as the words left my lips, the weight of my decision pressing down on me.

My call to Mama reached her halfway across the world, where she was busy overseeing a shipment in Sicily. There was silence for a moment, a heavy pause that made my chest tighten. Then her voice came through, calm but with an undertone of something I couldn’t quite place. Acceptance? Or was it disappointment?

“Alright, Aletta…” she sighed. “You’re my only child, and this family—everything my father built for me—will be yours soon enough,” she stated next, like I was calling because I got broke and needed her to rescue me. “The sooner you return, the sooner you can learn to carry the mantle.”

“Mama…” My voice cracked as I tried to hold back the emotion threatening to spill over. A sob escaped before I could stop it. “I—”

“Disregard whatever the pain you felt for now,” she said in her steady tone. “I admit that I thought Lorenzo was different. But in the end, he’s walked the same path as so many others in this life. Power and temptation… such cruel mistresses, mia figlia.”

I couldn’t reply. My throat was tight. My heart is a twisted knot of pain. She is really my mother… I don’t need to say too much information, still she already knows the score.

And yeah, she was right. Because even me, I truly believed Lorenzo Corvino was different. We had grown up together, childhood sweethearts in the volatile world of mafia alliances. At eighteen, he had promised me a lifetime of loyalty and love—a promise I thought would be unshakable.

Lorenzo wasn’t like the others in our world. The Corvinos were at the pinnacle of power, controlling vast territories and commanding respect—and fear. Yet, Lorenzo stood apart. He was disciplined, courteous, and his integrity was rare in our circles.

In the eight years we had been together, Lorenzo had never been involved in a single scandal. He had never even raised his voice in anger. To outsiders, it was clear: Lorenzo’s quiet strength was matched only by his devotion to me. His every action spoke of a love so strong and deep that I had let myself believe in it completely.

And then tonight’s event happened.

At our engagement party, with everyone important in our world gathered under one roof, Lorenzo made a decision that shattered everything. He invited the one person I had spent my life avoiding—Stefania Volante.

The moment I saw Stefania enter the room, every buried memory came rushing back. The day her mother—my father’s mistress—forced their way into our lives, smirking as my mother cried helplessly in the sitting room. The years of humiliation, of Stefania’s calculated cruelty, stripping me of pride and joy piece by piece. And she was favored over and over by our father.

‘Even my last name is different from theirs. They are Volante and I seem like an illegitimate child for varying my mother’s last name—Vitale,’ I thought of. ‘Poor me, poor Aletta…’

My hand shook as I held my wine glass. The trembling of my hands betrayed the storm within me I tried to hide. When Stefania smirked at me from across the room, I couldn’t stand it. My grip faltered, and the glass shattered, red wine splattering onto the pristine marble floor. In my panic, I sought Lorenzo, my rock, my sanctuary. I moved toward him, desperate for his protection.

Instead, he shoved me aside. His voice, usually so gentle, turned cold and sharp. “Aletta, look at yourself! Apologize to Stefania. Now.”

His words were a slap, leaving me stunned and frozen. I followed his gaze and saw it—a faint stain of wine on Stefania’s designer heels. She looked up at me, her expression a perfect mix of triumph and mock pity.

“Lorenzo,” I whispered, “you can’t be serious.”

He glared at me, his anger palpable. “Apologize, Aletta. You’re drunk and out of control. If you can’t handle yourself, you’re not fit to be a Corvino.”

I couldn’t breathe. His words, his betrayal, played out in front of everyone: our families, our allies, our enemies. The humiliation burned hotter than any flame. Gathering what was left of my pride, I barked at security to escort Stefania out so she could change shoes. But Lorenzo stepped in her way, shielding her.

“This is your fault,” Lorenzo coldly said. “You’ve embarrassed yourself, me, and this entire family. Now you want to boss your sister to leave the party just like that?” He then turned and walked away, taking Stefania with him.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, the eyes of our guests searing into me. The whispers, the smirks, the looks of pity—I felt them all. The weight of their judgment crushed me until I couldn’t bear it any longer. I went out. Away from them.

Away from the cruel prejudices and there I called Antonella Vitale—my mother.

“Crying for someone as scumbag as Lorenzo, you must think twice. Is he worthy of your tears?” A man said that made me end the call I was having with my mother.

I turned to face him. I frowned. “Matteo Santoro,” I spat his name. “What are you doing here?”

“Following a damsel in distress, what else?”

“I’m not some damsel,” I hissed at Matteo and left. I don’t trust him, he’s working under Corvino’s organization.

“Where are you going?” He followed as I walked back to the Elysian Manor premises. “Back to humiliation?”

“None of your business.” I continued walking and looking for the driver assigned to me.

“Going back to Lorenzo’s villa?” He continued following me. “I could bring you there.”

“I can manage.”

“But I must be the one to bring you home. I am the assigned driver and bodyguard of yours, Signora Vitale, from tonight to your grand wedding.”

“What?!” I scowled. Disregard the sarcasm in his tone by saying ‘grand’ in my wedding. I was surprised that Lorenzo assigned him to me, Matteo—the most ruthless among Corvino’s people.

“Consider yourself lucky.” Matteo grabbed my arm and pulled me to follow him in his Cayenne.

I didn’t utter any words and thought of the reason why he was assigned to me by Lorenzo. Maybe my dear Lorenzo wants me to be dead before the wedding. Maybe he wants himself to be clean if I was out before the wedding.

“Here are we,” Matteo informed me as I was busy planning my way out discreetly.

“Okay,” I opened the passenger’s door and walked to the villa.

Inside, my mind wavered between anger and disbelief. If Stefania was out of the picture, I will still convince myself it was just a misunderstanding. Maybe Lorenzo had been trying to protect me in some twisted way. Maybe he deserved another chance.

I got inside the villa that Lorenzo gifted me three months ago. This will be our home once we get married. And from the time he gave me the keys, for three months, I was busy in interior decoration of this house, making it suitable for my soon-to-be husband’s lavish taste.

As I climbed the stairs, something caught my eye. Through a slightly open door, I saw two figures in my bridal chamber. The room that was supposed to be ours—Lorenzo and I.

But there they were. Lorenzo and Stefania. Making out.

I breathed in so deeply. Painfully.

They were standing, his arms around her, kissing her passionately. My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat. Hands trembling, I pulled out my phone and accessed the surveillance footage. I needed to know. I must have my evidence.

My world shattered as I was staring at their faces closely devouring each other. Everything I had believed in—his love, his loyalty, our future—was a lie.

Lorenzo’s voice dripped with regret as he spoke next after leaving Stefania’s lips. “I regret proposing to Aletta. But since you’re here, I’m willing to call off the wedding.”

The words slammed into me like a freight train. I snickered. “As if I wasn’t thinking that too, Lorenzo…” I whispered.

The sharp sting in my feet brought me back to reality. I looked down and saw my high heels soaked in blood. These were the heels Lorenzo had given me as an engagement gift. I loved them, even though they were too small. I had worn them tonight, hoping to endure their discomfort as a symbol of our love. Now, after the long journey back, they had left my feet covered in blisters—a painful reminder of the sacrifices I’d made. Sacrifices that gain only pain.

I slipped them off without hesitation and tossed them into the trash. Shoes that didn’t fit, no matter how beautiful, weren’t worth keeping. And a man that didn’t love me, no matter how much I adored him before, was no longer worth fighting for.

Yes. Lorenzo Corvino was no longer mine to hold onto. The man I’d loved for over a decade had made his choice, and it wasn’t me.

But I wasn’t about to let him or Stefania walk away unscathed. They both used me. Both enjoyed my humiliation.

And the wedding, the one I had poured my heart into. The one that had been my labor of love. Every detail was meticulously planned, a reflection of everything I had envisioned for our future. I couldn’t stand the thought of letting it become a gift for those two.

Instead, I would use it to expose their betrayal. On the wedding day, I’d deliver a surprise they’d never forget. I’d take what power I had left and wield it like a blade.

I forced myself to appear unaffected, even though my hands shook as I reached for my phone. The surveillance footage continued playing before me. Good!

And I thanked myself for placing a surveillance camera in that room three nights ago. It was supposed to monitor my ‘beloved’ Lorenzo's reaction to the interior design I had done there, but now the purpose changed, it was for me to watch him and my filthy half-sister even though I wanna puke instead.

Lorenzo lay Stefania on the bed, her expression a blend of smugness and faux vulnerability. Lorenzo, the same Lorenzo who had berated me for losing control at our engagement party, was on top of her, caressing her bare legs that she lifted to expose from the slit of her evening gown.

“If I didn’t return,” Stefania said, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. She kicked playfully at Lorenzo, her movements lazy but calculated. “Are you really going to marry Aletta?”

Lorenzo didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he caught her foot in his hands, massaging it gently. The sight made my blood run cold.

Stefania chuckled, leaning back with a satisfied smile. “You don’t need to answer. I already know. Everything you’ve done has been to push me away, just so you could bring me back.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, laced with faux sweetness. “All these years, you’ve never truly let go. This bridal chamber, decorated just the way I like it, the wedding ring you chose, even those high heels Aletta wore—all of it was for me.”

My hands tightened around my phone, the plastic case creaking under the pressure.

Stefania’s foot pressed against Lorenzo’s chest, and she laughed softly. “Tell me, Lorenzo. The one you’ve truly loved all along is me.”

Lorenzo didn’t confirm it, but he went on top of Stefania again and kissed her again. It wasn’t a fleeting kiss. It was slow, deliberate, filled with longing. It was a kiss that slapped me more of the reality of how useful I was for their love story.

Tears streamed down my face, unchecked and relentless. I thought of the eight years we’d spent together. The moments I’d tried to kiss him, how he’d always turn away, shy and reserved. I’d convinced myself it was his modesty, his quiet nature. I’d never imagined that all his passion, all his love, had been reserved for someone else.

For Stefania Volante.

My nails dug into my palms, the sharp sting grounding me in the present. I had to get out of here. My heart felt like it was being shredded, and staying any longer would only prolong the agony.

I stumbled to the roadside, my vision blurred by tears. My hand shot out to hail a cab, desperate to escape. But before I could get in, a sharp voice cut through the night.

“Aletta!”

I froze. It was Lorenzo.

I saw Matteo behind him watching us. He might follow me too as instructed by his boss.

“Aletta, where are you going?” Lorenzo’s footsteps echoing against the pavement as he approached me.

I looked straight at his eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. His expression was unreadable, his dark eyes searching mine for something he would never find.

“I just changed my shoes, Lorenzo,” I answered his query somehow. And amazingly, my voice came out steadier than I expected, though it carried the sharp edge of betrayal. “Why? What do you want, Lorenzo?”

“You’re here,” he said, his tone urgent. “Did you—”

“Did I do what?” I asked innocently. He looked guilty with just controlled emotion in his eyes.

Lorenzo’s gazes daggered me and it felt suffocating. My heart, fragile and fraying, strained against his piercing eyes.

I smiled bitterly. “Oh! I saw you and Stefania talking. Was that the thing you wanna ask if I did see you?” I probed.

Lorenzo took a step closer. “Aletta, listen. It’s not what it looks like,” he began, his voice steady and calm.

“Not what it looks like?” I snapped with a frown. I continued my act as if I didn’t see and hear them while my anger actually wanted to break free. “Is there anything I need to know? You see…” I shrugged. And there I glanced at Matteo who was still monitoring us with a grin on his lips. “I just changed shoes, Lorenzo, for the one I put in trash didn’t fit my feet and made me bleed.”

Lorenzo looked at my feet and thankfully the blisters I had became part of my act. He opened his mouth to respond, “Aletta, I—”

“No need to worry, I can manage…” I smiled again, a mischievous one. “I always manage, remember?”

"Yes, of course. And you do understand why I brought Stefania here, right? She is your sister and she’s drunk so I helped her." Lorenzo’s voice was convincing.

I nodded. My breathing shallow as I controlled myself to scream to his face what I really saw. Instead, I stared at him, the man I once called my anchor in a storm.

"Yep, certainly I do. Stefania’s my ‘half-sister’ after all." I said calmly, each word dripping with venom. "She’s the child of a mistress that broke my family. And being recognized as the legitimate daughter of Domenico Volante after my mother gave up being into a toxic relationship…” I sneered as I saw Stefania approaching us, “I hope my dear ‘half-sister’ won’t walk the same path of her mother, who will whoring herself to become a mistress as well."

Stefania’s expression faltered, but Lorenzo’s rage intensified with what insult I said to his beloved Stefania. He stepped closer, his looming figure casting a shadow over me. "Enough, Aletta! Your poisonous words have no place here. Don’t say that to Stefania or—"

“Or what?” I straightened, refusing to cower.

Lorenzo crossed her brows. "No wonder your mother abandoned you, and your father favored your sister over you," Lorenzo stated, which made me tremble. "With that sharp tongue and venomous heart, no one could ever love you, Aletta. In fact, you deserve to spend your life alone!"

His words hit me harder than any physical blow ever could. I’d spent a decade building a life with this man, pouring my soul into loving him, believing in the strength of our bond. And now, he was tearing me apart, defending the very person who had tormented me.

"Lorenzo…" I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Do you even hear yourself? I’m your bride but you are scowling me because you felt bad for your bride’s sister. What a joke you are!"

Lorenzo didn’t answer as his attention had already shifted to Stefania, who sniffled delicately behind him with hands trembling. Wow. The theatrics of my ‘dear half-sister’ disgusted me, but Lorenzo? He fell for it—hook, line, and sinker. Stupid!

"Stefania, are you okay?" he asked, his voice softening as he turned to her. He cupped her elbow with tender familiarity, and something inside me snapped.

This wasn’t the man who had sworn to protect me, who said he would shield me from every harm I will encounter once I became his wife. This was a stranger, one who proved that everything he had said before was just a bait to lure me.

My feet throbbed as I took an unsteady step back. The blisters caused by the heels I wore first still give me pain, but… it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

Lorenzo’s gaze flicked to my feet. For a fleeting moment, guilt flashed in his eyes. "You’re hurt, Aletta," he muttered, almost as if it pained him to admit. “Let’s get back inside the villa. You need first aid.” He commanded Matteo next, “Bring Aletta inside.”

Before I could say something to refuse, Stefania suddenly bolted, her tears spilling over dramatically. "I can’t stay here!" she cried, her voice quivering with the perfect blend of anguish and despair. “Aletta hates me and I felt bad causing trouble here!”

The sight of her fleeing out next—running into the middle of the driveway—was the final act in her carefully choreographed performance. Lorenzo, predictably, rushed after her, shouting her name. And I? I followed with Matteo following me too with an unerasable smirk on his lips from watching us.

“Stop smirking,” I said to Matteo. “Can’t you see your boss ridiculing himself by chasing his bride’s half-sister? You should help him, right?”

“Your sister is not my concern here,” Matteo answered with amusement in his tone. “I’m only here for you, Miss Damsel.”

I made a face and looked at Stefania stumbled into the cobblestone. I rolled my eyes.

“What a pitiful act!” Matteo chuckled. “Your sis—’dear’ half-sister, I mean, should be in acting class.”

I hid my smile from what Matteo had said. I continued watching Stefania and Lorenzo as the latter cradled her trembling form as if she were the most precious thing in his world.

"Stefania, are you okay?" Lorenzo asked, his voice laced with worry.

She nodded weakly, clutching his shirt like a true damsel in distress. "I… I didn’t mean to cause trouble. Aletta just… she hates me so much, Lorenzo. I’m sorry for ruining everything."

“That’s the real damsel in distress…” I told Matteo and walked away. I ignored the sharp pain in my feet as I strode away from the scene. My heart ached, but my resolve hardened with every step.

Lorenzo’s voice rang out behind me. "Aletta! Wait!" he called. “Matteo followed her!”

I stopped but didn’t turn around. "Do yourself a favor, Lorenzo!" I almost yelled, my voice colder than I thought possible. "Focus on your precious—I mean…” I sneered, “focus on my dear half-sister. Help her. She’s so precious, right?”