Chapter 3

The next morning, Damian arrived to take me to the Marriage Bureau.

I was waiting beside the entrance with our documents in my bag. The moment he stepped out of the car, I opened my mouth.

“Damian, the wedding is—”

His phone rang.

He answered, and whatever Sienna said made his expression change.

“Her throat is swelling again,” he said after ending the call. “She’s frightened, and the doctor doesn’t want her left alone.”

“We can register tomorrow morning before the ceremony. Don’t worry. One more day won’t change anything.”

He returned to the car before I could tell him that everything had already changed.

The door closed quietly, and once again, Sienna had interrupted before I could tell him I was leaving.

Ten minutes later, Sienna posted an Instagram Story.

[I told him I didn’t want to be alone, and he really came back.]

In the photograph, Damian sat beside her hospital bed, holding the hand with the IV line.

Luca arrived at nine forty, looking as though he had not slept.

“Stop waiting,” he said. “Damian can’t make it today.”

“I know. I saw him.”

Luca faltered before recovering. “Sienna’s reaction flared up again last night. The doctor said she shouldn’t become distressed.”

“And what about me? How much am I supposed to take?”

His brow furrowed. “Alessandra, stop asking questions like that.”

He lowered his voice as he stepped closer.

“You have the wedding, the Valenti name, and a future as Damian’s wife. What does Sienna have? She only has a few people she trusts.”

I put our documents back into my bag and walked down the steps.

“Where are you going?” Luca asked.

“To meet with the wedding team.”

Relief crossed his face because he assumed I had decided to cooperate.

“Good. Confirm the arrangements and let this go. If you ruin your own wedding over an argument, you’ll be the one everyone talks about.”

I did not correct him. I was not going there to confirm the arrangements. I was going there to tell the wedding team they could dismantle everything.

At the Valenti Hotel, the event director was waiting with the revised ceremony materials. Her uneasiness became obvious when she turned on the welcome film.

The first photographs showed Damian as a child, followed by years of Valenti family dinners, charity events, and summer vacations. Sienna appeared beside him again and again, while I did not appear until halfway through the video.

My first photograph had been taken at Sienna’s birthday the previous year. She wore a white dress and held Damian’s arm while I stood at the edge of the frame with the knife I had used to cut her cake.

Anyone who saw the photograph without knowing us would have assumed Sienna was the bride.

I paused the film.

“Why does Sienna appear throughout the first half while I don’t appear at all?”

The event director looked toward Luca before answering. He slid the printed ceremony book toward me.

“Sienna was worried she would look like an outsider,” Luca said. “Damian approved a few additional photographs.”

It was more than a few photographs. The welcome message had been rewritten, Sienna had been given a reading before the procession, and Damian’s vows now included a paragraph thanking her for being part of our story.

Every part of a wedding that was supposed to be mine had been rewritten to make Sienna feel chosen.

Luca’s expression tightened. “Sienna grew up without a real family. She only wants to know she belongs.”

Before I could answer, Damian called.

“Sienna cried all night because she felt like an outsider. I told the team to add a few pictures.”

“You also added her to our vows.”

“She’s your sister, your bridesmaid, and our friend. I’m marrying you tomorrow, Alessandra, not a video screen. Why does this matter so much?”

Fine, I thought.

It no longer mattered, because I had no intention of marrying him tomorrow.

I continued turning the pages until I reached the jewelry section.

A photograph showed Sienna seated in front of a mirror with my mother’s antique sapphire comb in her hair. The note beneath it stated that she had modeled the heirloom for the pre-wedding camera test.

My mother had placed that comb in my hands before she died and asked me to wear it on my wedding day.

My fingers tightened around the page.

“Why is Sienna wearing my mother’s comb?”

Damian was silent for a moment. “The styling team needed someone for the camera test. Sienna was already there.”

“That comb belonged to my mother.”

“I know.”

The answer stunned me more than an excuse would have.

“You knew, and you still gave her permission to wear it?”

Sienna began crying in the background.

“Forget it, Damian. I won’t wear it again. Alessandra already thinks I’m trying to take everything from her.”

Damian’s voice softened immediately. “No one said that. Stop upsetting yourself.”

When he spoke to me again, the tenderness was gone.

“She wore it for a few minutes to help with the filming. Why do you have to make it sound like she deliberately disrespected your mother?”

“Have the comb returned to the hotel safe today.”

Damian did not answer.

Luca closed the ceremony book. “Your mother wouldn’t want you treating a younger woman this way over a piece of jewelry.”

I turned toward him.

The conference room became silent, but Luca continued.

“Evelyn wanted you to be happy. If she were here, she would tell you to be generous instead of letting a comb ruin your wedding.”

He was using my dead mother to defend the woman wearing her wedding heirloom.

I slapped him.

The sound echoed across the conference room. Luca’s face turned to the side, and everyone around the table froze.

Damian’s voice came sharply through the speaker.

“Did you just hit him?”

Luca slowly faced me again, disbelief replacing the calm expression he always wore.

“I barely recognize you anymore.”

I picked up my bag and walked toward the door.

Behind me, Damian said, “If you leave now, don’t expect me to come home tonight.”

I stopped with my hand on the door, but I no longer felt the urge to explain myself or ask him to reconsider.

“Do whatever you want.”

Then I walked out.