I Was Already Gone When He Decided to Love Me

Before our wedding, my fiancé, Carlo Vitale—the youngest Don on the East Coast—held a church ceremony with my stepsister.

He said, "According to Mafia rules, only the woman who completes the wedding ceremony with me and receives the blessing of all the family is my true wife.

"So even if your sister Elena is carrying my child, she's nothing more than a mistress."

After the priest's blessing, they exchanged rings.

I stood outside the church, watching through a curtain of rain as he kissed another woman. My face was white.

I had loved Carlo for twelve years, from the ages of sixteen to twenty-eight.

However, he had only ever had my stepsister, Sophia, not me, in his heart.

I chose to let him go.

Later, I left for Europe.

All I left Carlo was a notice of our broken engagement and a parting gift.

For some reason, the man who had always treated me with indifference seemed to have aged ten years overnight.

I stood in the rain, silently watching my fiancé, Carlo Vitale.

I watched as he personally slid the wedding ring onto my stepsister Sophia’s finger.

Sophia was wearing a custom-made designer wedding gown and smiling beautifully.

The moment the ring was on her hand, Carlo pulled her into his arms without hesitation.

Members of the family surrounded them, along with so-called friends I once knew, all cheering them on.

They kissed for nearly ten minutes. Only when Sophia was so weak in the knees that she could barely stand did Carlo finally pull away, breathless.

Rain slid down my hair, blurring my vision.

However, I could not shake off the image of the man I had loved for twelve years kissing the woman who used to bully me.

Memories surged back like a tide.

I first met Carlo when I was sixteen.

He was the son of my father’s business partner. He was only eighteen at the time, but he was already carrying the aura of a future don.

That day, my father was about to hit me again. Carlo stepped in front of me. A broken glass bottle slashed a long wound across his arm.

Blood ran down his arm, but he only turned to me and said, “Don’t be afraid.”

No one remembered my eighteenth birthday.

He was the only one who stayed by my side the entire night.

He did not say much, just draped his coat over my shoulders.

When the light of dawn came, he said, “Elena, I’ll protect you from now on.”

At twenty-two, I graduated from university.

He appeared in the last row of the auditorium, holding a bouquet of white roses.

He confessed, “I like you. Be with me. I’ll protect you from now on.”

I thought he loved me.

It turned out it was all just my wishful thinking.

Sophia threw the bridal bouquet.

Everyone rushed forward to catch it.

That was when I realized my family was at the wedding, too.

My younger brother Michael, whom I