His Stand-In, the Don’s Queen

Back at the apartment, I poured a glass of red wine and sat on the balcony, staring out at the Manhattan skyline.The words of Marcus’s best friend echoed in my head. At a party three months ago, he’d gotten drunk and let it slip. "You know why Marcus went after you, Isabella? 'Cause you have the same air as Victoria. He was a wreck after she left him…"I’d dismissed it as drunken rambling then. Now, it all made sense.No wonder he always said ponytails looked best on me—Victoria’s signature hairstyle.No wonder he bought me jasmine perfume—Victoria’s favorite.No wonder he stared at me so intensely the first time we met, like he’d seen a ghost.I was a replacement. A stand-in from the very beginning.I put down my glass and started packing. The apartment was Marcus’s, but over six years, my things had seeped into every corner. From the skincare in the bathroom to the clothes in the closet, the art books on the shelves, and our photos on the fridge.I packed them all into boxes.As I w

Marcus went straight to Amy to see the copy. An hour later, he stormed back into the gallery, his face a mask of thunder."Isabella. We're talking about this at home."Back at the apartment, he didn't explode like I expected. Instead, he was unnervingly gentle."Babe, I know I've been neglecting you," he said, wrapping his arms around me from behind. "This thing with Victoria, it'll be over soon. Just trust me, okay?"I stiffened in his arms. In the mirror's reflection, I saw the open collar of his shirt.Where my name used to be tattooed, there was a new one: Victoria.The script was elegant, just like her.My fingers went to the spot without thinking. "This tattoo…"He quickly pulled his shirt closed. "Isabella, I can explain—""Don't," I said, turning to face him. "I just want to know one thing. When did you have mine removed?"He was silent."Was it before she came back, or after?" I pressed."Isabella…""Answer me.""Three months ago," he finally whispered. "But I didn't get hers

JFK Airport, 6 AM.I walked out of customs, my eyes red and swollen from the long flight. As I was about to hail a cab, someone called my name."Miss Isabella Romano?"I turned. A tall man was walking toward me. He wore a perfectly tailored black overcoat, his features sharp and classically Italian. But it was his eyes that caught me—a deep green, so dark they were almost black, and just as unreadable as the ocean."I'm Dante Moretti," he said, extending a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."I was stunned for a moment, then remembered. This was him. My fiancé."Hello," I said, shaking his hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't expect you to pick me up yourself.""I thought it was only right," Dante said, taking my suitcase from me. "The car is this way."In the car, I leaned back and closed my eyes. Between the flight and the emotional train wreck of the last week, I was exhausted."Get some rest," his voice was soft. "We'll be home in an hour."I actually fell asleep.When I woke up, we were par

It was six in the evening by the time I stepped out of the fitting room, my wedding dress perfected.The Romano family vineyard was on the coast. The setting sun cast a golden glow over the rows of vines. This was where Dante and I would have our ceremony.I'd just reached the entrance to the wine cellar when a familiar voice stopped me."Isabella."I turned. Marcus was standing a few yards away. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. His hair was a mess, his face unshaven, his eyes bloodshot."How did you find me?" I asked, my voice so calm it surprised even me."I asked a lot of people to find the Romano estate," he said, walking toward me. "Isabella, we need to talk.""There's nothing to talk about." I turned to leave."Six years!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the vineyard. "Six years of our lives, and you just throw it away? How could you be so cruel?"I stopped and slowly turned back to him.This man was once my entire world.Now, he just looked pathetic."Cruel?" I la