Chapter 1 - The Bride Who Disappeared Before the Wedding
Six hours before our wedding, Alessandro Vitale returned to Rome and discovered that his bride had disappeared.
Two hundred fourteen guests were waiting. The church was decorated with white roses. The wedding dress was gone.
And all I had left behind was my engagement ring, a thirteen-minute video, and a note.
"You had seventy-two hours to decide which woman you wanted to marry."
My name is Serena Bellini.
For thirteen years, I had loved Alessandro Vitale.
I loved him before the newspapers called him the King of Rome, before his enemies learned to fear his name, and before his father's assassination forced him to inherit an empire built on violence and secrets.
To the rest of Italy, he was Don Vitale.
To me, he was Alex.
I met him in a hospital when I was twenty-two. My father had suffered a heart attack, and Alessandro was visiting one of his father's injured men. He bought me coffee from a vending machine, sat beside me, and made me laugh when I thought I had forgotten how.
That was how everything began.
I stayed beside him through funerals, threats, sleepless nights, and thirteen years of promises.
For twelve years, I waited for him to propose.
Then, 417 days before our wedding, he finally knelt in front of me.
"It took me twelve years to be sure," he whispered.
I believed him.
What I didn't know was that two months later, he would begin an eleven-month affair with Bianca Moretti.
Bianca was thirty, beautiful, and the daughter of Carlo Moretti, a powerful ally whose family controlled shipping interests in northern Italy.
I suspected the affair for months.
There were unexplained hotel receipts, an unfamiliar apartment key, late-night calls, and the unmistakable scent of Bianca's perfume on Alessandro's shirts.
But I was afraid to ask.
Not because I feared Alessandro.
Because I feared losing him.
Three days before our wedding, he announced a sudden business trip to Venice.
"There's a problem with the Moretti family."
"Alex, we're getting married in three days."
"I'll be back."
"Promise?"
He kissed my forehead.
"I've waited thirteen years for this wedding."
I looked into his eyes.
"Then don't do anything that'll make me regret waiting."
That evening, I decided to surprise him.
For almost ten years, Alessandro had searched for an antique watch he once admired at an auction. Six months earlier, I had finally located it through a dealer in Geneva.
On its back, I engraved a message.
"Thirteen years behind us. The rest of our lives ahead."
I flew to Venice carrying that watch.
At 11:06 P.M., I stood outside his hotel suite.
Then I heard Bianca.
"Are you really going to marry her?"
Alessandro sighed.
"You already know the answer."
"Do you love her?"
"Yes."
"Then why are you here with me?"
Silence.
Then Bianca whispered, "Stop thinking."
I heard them kiss.
The watch box slipped from my hands.
Alessandro opened the door.
His face went white.
"Serena?"
I looked past him.
Two wineglasses. Bianca's shoes. His jacket beside the bed.
"How long?" I asked.
"Serena, please."
"How long?"
"Eleven months."
I stared at him.
"We've been engaged for thirteen."
He looked away.
"So two months after asking me to marry you, you started sleeping with her?"
"I never intended to leave you."
"Do you think that's supposed to comfort me?"
"I love you."
"Then why are you in Venice?"
He had no answer.
I turned to Bianca.
"You want him?"
She nodded.
Then I looked at Alessandro.
"She wants you. I wanted to marry you. What do you want?"
"You, Serena."
I glanced toward the bedroom.
"You have a strange way of showing it."
When I turned to leave, he caught my wrist.
"Don't go."
"Let go, Alex."
"We'll return to Rome together."
"No."
"Serena—"
"You don't get to order me around. I'm not your wife."
He released me.
I picked up the watch box.
Alessandro recognized it immediately.
"You found it?"
I showed him the engraving.
His eyes filled with tears.
"I was going to give it to you before our wedding," I whispered. "But now I don't know what the rest of our lives means anymore."
I placed it on the table and walked away.
I left Venice at 12:02 A.M.
Alessandro did not follow.
He remained with Bianca for almost nine more hours.
Those nine hours destroyed what remained of my trust.
When he returned to Rome on our wedding morning, I was gone.
At 1:30 P.M., my attorney delivered a thirteen-minute video.
In it, I looked directly into the camera.
"I thought about marrying you anyway, Alex. I imagined you apologizing, promising that Bianca meant nothing, and telling me you loved only me."
My voice trembled.
"But I don't want my wedding day to begin with forgiving my groom for sleeping with another woman."
I looked down at my engagement ring.
"The worst part wasn't seeing you kiss her."
I paused.
"It was that after you saw my face, after you knew I'd caught you, you still stayed with her."
"Nine more hours."
"That was when I understood. I didn't need to know which woman you loved more. I needed to know which woman you'd choose when it mattered."
The wedding was canceled.
Alessandro called eighty-six times and sent thirty-one messages.
I answered none.
Forty-seven days later, I agreed to meet him at a small lakeside house.
He arrived alone, without guards or orders.
He looked thinner. Exhausted. Almost unrecognizable.
He placed the antique watch on the table.
"Serena," he whispered, "is the rest of our lives really over?"
I looked at the engraving.
Then at him.
"Alex, when I walked out of that hotel room, why did you stay?"
May you like
For the first time in thirteen years, Alessandro Vitale had no words.
And I realized that whatever he said next would decide whether I could ever trust him again.
Related Stories
