The Canceled Wedding and The Mafia Bride’s Regret

My fiancée, Diana, is the princess of a powerful New York Mafia family. She

claims to love me deeply, yet a month before our wedding, she told me she wanted

to have a baby with her childhood sweetheart, claiming it was a "family arrangement."

I refused. But she brought it up every single day, pushing me into a corner as

if my consent didn’t matter.

Two weeks before the wedding, I received a pregnancy report from a private

clinic.

That’s when I found out she was already nearly a month pregnant.

She never intended to wait for my permission.

In that moment, I finally woke up. Our years of history were nothing but a

fragile illusion.

So, I canceled the wedding. I burned every single gift she had ever given me.

On the day we were supposed to say "I do," I boarded a flight to Italy to pursue

my advanced degree in clinical medicine. I officially accepted a mission with

Doctors Without Borders and cut all ties with the Mafia family.

From that day on, Diana and I were finished. For good.

One month before the wedding, my fiancée, Diana, insisted on having a child with

her childhood sweetheart.

I didn't agree. But she kept bringing it up, day after day, cornering me like

she was negotiating a business deal that had to close.

Then, two weeks before the big day, I received an anonymous package.

It was a pregnancy report from a private clinic on the Upper East Side.

It stated clearly: Diana. Five weeks and three days pregnant.

In that instant, I realized she had never cared what I thought. She had already

made her choice; she was just "notifying" me, her official fiancé.

I sat in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of our apartment, watching the

city lights, a cold chill settled in my bones.

The next day, I canceled the venue, tore up the invitations, and burned every

gift she had ever bought me.

On our wedding day, I didn't show up. Instead, I boarded a flight to Milan alone

to join the International Medical Center and begin my career in clinical

research.

From that moment on, I was done with Diana Falcone.

"I’ve explained this to you a thousand times, Nathan. Ian is dying. His bone

cancer is terminal," Diana said.

"The doctors said he has a year at most."

"His final wish is to leave a child behind to carry on his bloodline."

"I owe him my life... this isn't just about a favor; it’s about the honor

between two Mafia families."

Diana stood before me, speaking in that same gentle tone she always used, but

every word felt like a knife twisting in my heart.

Five years ago, on the streets of Chicago, the Moretti family got into a turf

war with Boston drug dealers. She was caught in the crossfire, and Ian took a

bullet for her. Since then, he had become a saint in her eyes.

But I didn't get