The Bride Who Never Showed

Giada's POV

Carlo Romano sent me the location of the snowy mountains in St. Morizia, along with a photo. The image captured a sweeping view of the villa. Its white stone walls and black steel framework gave the place a stark, minimalist feel.

However, in the very center of the photo stood Adriana Montanari. Her long golden curls cascade over a white fur coat. I stared at her radiant, smiling face for a few moments. In that instant, I couldn't help but find it all hilarious.

I was the bride. This was the wedding venue Carlo had chosen for us. And yet, the woman at the heart of the photo was his childhood sweetheart—the one he kept insisting was "just a friend".

After that, Carlo went completely silent. I knew him well enough. He must have assumed the wedding planner had already informed me, so he went ahead and sent the address without a second thought. He was probably concerned I might not be aware of the location when rescheduling my flight.

It felt like a stone had lodged itself in my chest. I couldn't comprehend it. He had already agreed to hold the ceremony at my mother's estate, so why did he change it so easily just because Adriana preferred the mountains?

By the time I returned to the estate, darkness had already settled in. I could hear Carlo angrily berating the butler, Vito Lombardi. "Giada isn't a three-year-old. Do you really need to bother me just because she's a little late?"

"But Ms. Castellani left right after receiving a call from the wedding planner today. I'm worried she might act out of anger and—"

Carlo cut him off with a scornful laugh. "She's out dealing with visas and rescheduling flights. With her entire extended family involved, this isn't something that can be handled quickly. Relax. Giada has dreamed of marrying me for as long as she can remember. Without me, she'd fall apart.

"Even if I held the wedding in hell, she'd still drag herself there—let alone the villa in St. Morizia that Adriana had painstakingly picked."

Vito didn't say another word. Meanwhile, Carlo muttered under his breath, "Adriana hasn't replied in five minutes… I need to go check on her."

By the time he drove off, I was already gone. That estate belonged to the Romano family—it was never my home. Carlo had only asked me to move in to make the wedding preparations easier.

At first, we were like any other engaged couple—sweet and inseparable. However, everything changed when Carlo's childhood sweetheart, Adriana, returned to the country after a heartbreak. He claimed he needed to console her. That so-called "consoling" dragged on for four months.

Whenever Adriana said she was upset, he would leave me behind without a word and rush to her side.

I had chosen the wedding dress myself and handled the entire redesign of the estate alone. He didn't take part in any of it.

Every time I voiced my dissatisfaction, he would glance up mid-conversation with Adriana and frown.

"Isn't your family the only reason you want this marriage? I've already agreed. What else is there to complain about?"

The moment Adriana called, he would smile and leave without hesitation, letting my words fade into silence.

"You were the one who proposed first. I only said yes because I loved you…"

In that instant, I went from a woman immersed in the joy of marriage to a lonely bystander. Even now, I had no say in choosing the wedding venue. I spent the night at a friend's place, and Carlo didn't reach out to me once.

The next day, I completed my work handover. The moment I stepped through the door, I heard Adriana laughing. "Snow has to fall from the mountains during the vows. That's what makes it romantic."

Carlo sat beside her. His warm gaze was fixed on her every move. "Si. Whatever you say." It was a tenderness he had never shown me.

Seeing that I had returned, Adriana waved me over. "Giada, come here! I've got the perfect idea for your wedding!"

Before I could even refuse, Carlo grumbled, "What took you so long? Adriana has spent four months on our wedding, and you've done nothing but leave it all to her.

"But honestly, it's better this way. She has much better taste than you do. Your countryside aesthetic would've only made me a source of ridicule among the other mafia families."

In that instant, I felt like nothing more than a spectator again. "I'm tired. I'm going to rest." Ignoring Carlo's furrowed brow, I walked straight toward the guest room.

The moment I shut the door, the message I had refused time and time again surfaced once more: "If you agree, I'm ready to pay any price to steal you from your wedding."

Outside the room, Adriana went on describing her dream wedding amid snow-capped mountains and blooming flowers. Threaded through her words was Carlo's patient, indulgent voice repeating, "Whatever you say."

I let out a bitter laugh and typed back, "There's no need to steal me away. You're my groom."

"Carlo, if you were meant to end up in the snowy mountains, then I'll go to the warm Tuscanica instead. I'll let you go, and I'll finally free myself as well," I mused inwardly.