He Left His Pregnant Bride at the Altar

After ten years of loving Dante Russo—the Don of the Russo family—I was finally about to marry him. But before the ceremony began, my adopted younger sister, Bianca, sent us a photo from the scene of a car accident. Dante and my brother immediately left the church. Twenty minutes later, Dante’s men had already confirmed that it was nothing more than a minor collision. There had been no attack, and no one was injured. But Bianca was having a panic attack, so neither of them would come back. I reminded Dante that the priest and the guests from both families were still waiting for him. He said over the phone, “Nothing will happen if the wedding is delayed for a few hours. Bianca can’t be alone right now.” “Elena, you’ve always been the reasonable one. Don’t make me leave her like this.” For ten years, I had been reasonable for them more times than I could count. But not this time. I removed my veil, called off the wedding, and accepted a ten-year position at a research institute in London. They had no idea that thirty-six hours later, Elena Moretti—the woman who had always stayed behind and waited for them—would leave Chicago for good. And the child I had planned to tell Dante about after the wedding would no longer have a place in his future either.