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Chapter 2

Autor: City Scribe
I froze, unable to believe what I was seeing.

“Vincent?”

Hearing that familiar, intimate name, Vincent sneered. “Miss Christine, just a few hours ago, you were saying you’d never have feelings for a criminal like me. And now you’re calling me like that again? Are you playing hard to get?”

Only then did it hit me that eight years had passed. The man standing in front of me had just gotten out of prison, and our relationship had ended long ago.

I took a deep breath, forcing my expression to stay blank as the corner of my lips tugged.

“Didn’t you say you never wanted to see me again, Mr. Vincent? Then why are you standing at my door now?”

Vincent looked completely at ease.

“We were together for three years, after all. I’m not as heartless as you, Miss Christine. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

I didn’t refuse. I opened the door and stepped aside, giving him space to enter. The moment he walked in, Vincent stopped short, stunned by what he saw. The barely two-hundred-square-foot apartment was covered in photos of the two of us from when we were together.

“Christine, why do you still have all these pictures? Are you planning to trick me again as you did eight years ago, pretending you loved me so deeply?”

That was when I realized I had forgotten to take them down.

So, I lied. “I only put those up back then to fool you. I just forgot to remove them.”

As I spoke, I stepped forward and started tearing the photos off the walls, one by one.

Vincent’s expression darkened. Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist. His grip was so tight that it felt like he might crush it.

“Christine, it’s been eight years. Can’t you at least say something nice, like Elena does?”

For some reason, beneath his gritted teeth, I thought I heard something like heartbreak. However, that couldn’t be possible.

I let out a quiet, self-mocking laugh, my words still sharp. “If you want to hear nice things, you should go to Elena instead of coming here and making a fool of yourself.”

Vincent slowly loosened his grip. Then, he looked straight into my eyes.

“Elena and I are getting married. My father wants us to have a child as soon as possible.”

My tone stayed flat. “That’s good news. Congratulations.”

Seeing how unmoved I was, Vincent frowned slightly.

“Christine, my father told me that from the very beginning, you got close to me for money. You were also only dating me to send me to prison. I came here today to ask you one thing: did you ever have your reasons?”

My head spun. It felt like my soul was being pulled out of my body, floating somewhere far above.

All that remained was an empty shell, answering coldly, “No. Mr. Vincent, you and I come from different worlds. We were never meant to be the same. I’ve known what it’s like to be poor, so selling love and my body for money is normal.”

At that, Vincent seemed unable to contain the anger he’d held in for eight years. He raised his hand high, and I closed my eyes. However, instead of a slap, I heard one of the photo frames beside me fall to the floor.

Vincent’s voice came from right in front of me, cold as ice. “Christine, I regret ever loving you. Someone like you doesn’t deserve it.”

After that came silence. When I opened my eyes, all I saw was his back as he walked away without looking back.

Surrounded by photos scattered across the floor, I slowly crouched down. Then, I picked up my phone and searched their names, Vincent and Elena. New York media had always been sharp with gossip, but today, every headline was filled with praise for the soon-to-be Donna.

“Mr. Vincent and Miss Elena’s love story is so touching. They say that while he spent eight years in prison, she waited faithfully the entire time.”

“Now that Mr. Vincent has become the Godfather of the Medici family, Miss Elena is in for a life of luxury.”

“Did you know? Mr. Vincent had the world’s largest diamond ring custom-made for Miss Elena. Their wedding alone is rumored to cost three hundred million dollars. And apparently, he’s preparing a huge surprise.”

My fingers trembled so badly I could barely hold my phone. As I picked up the fallen photos, I finally noticed a wedding invitation, embossed with gold patterns, on the coffee table.

“It is our honor to invite you to the wedding of Mr. Vincent Medici and Miss Elena Rossi, to be held on December 17th.”

December 17th was seven days from now.
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  • The Bride Who Never Was   Chapter 20

    On April 20th, Vincent went to the Queens Cemetery for the last time. He was wearing the same dark gray coat he had on during his first date with Christine. Eight years had passed, and the coat now looked worn, with the cuffs frayed. He didn’t know why he had never thrown it away. Maybe he forgot, or maybe he simply couldn’t bring himself to.He sat down in front of my gravestone and placed the white chrysanthemums carefully beside it.“The weather is nice today,” he said softly. “Better than yesterday and the day before. I sat in the cathedral for the whole afternoon and then went to the Mexican restaurant for dinner. The owner isn’t there anymore. It’s someone new now. The risotto isn’t as good as yours. I only took two bites before I stopped eating.”From his pocket, he took out a diary. The edges were worn from being turned too many times. He opened it to the first page.“Vincent Medici is the most important person in this world. No matter who I forget, I must never forget Vinc

  • The Bride Who Never Was   Chapter 19

    It was April, and spring had finally sprung in New York. In Queens Cemetery, the grass had begun to turn green again. A few unnamed wildflowers had grown beside my gravestone, as if they had decided to stay where I once was.Vincent came every afternoon. Sometimes, he brought a book; sometimes, he brought nothing at all, but he would sit by the gravestone for hours. John would sometimes follow him, standing far away at the cemetery gate. From there, he watched Vincent’s silhouette. The man who once made New York’s underworld tremble now spent his days sitting in front of a grave, quietly letting an afternoon pass him by. Sometimes, Vincent would speak to the gravestone. Other times, he just sat in silence, like two stones facing each other.One day, after returning from the cemetery, Vincent called John into the study.“John. Do something for me.”“Whatever you need.”“Sort out all my assets. Everything.”Taken aback, John asked, “Everything?”“Everything. Family shares, real es

  • The Bride Who Never Was   Chapter 18

    Today was March 11th, and it had been nearly three months since I jumped from the top of the Empire State Building. Vincent went alone to Rockefeller Center. The observatory telescope was still there. He dropped in a coin but didn’t look through it. Instead, he stood on the viewing platform outside for a long time.Today was the day we first looked at the stars together. Back then, I was twenty-four, working as a waitress in that Mexican restaurant, while he was twenty-five, heir to the Medici family. He made up the name of a star to fool me, yet I believed him with my bright smile. Every March 11th after that, I came here. No matter whether I remembered the way or even remembered the star’s position, I always came.Vincent took my diary out of his pocket and turned to the last page of the day I had come.“March 11th. Rockefeller Center. Today, I didn’t see the star. The clouds in New York were too thick, but it’s okay. I remember what Vincent said. That star is called Christine, an

  • The Bride Who Never Was   Chapter 17

    In mid-January, Vincent received an email from Mount Sinai Hospital. The sender was Dr. Harrison.“Mr. Vincent, while organizing Miss Christine’s records, I found a video she recorded last year. I had suggested she make it at the time to document the progression of her condition. She stored it in the hospital system and instructed me to deliver it to you after her passing. The video file is attached—Harrison.”The attachment was large. It took Vincent a full ten minutes to download. He sat in his study, the curtains drawn tightly shut. The computer screen was the only source of light in the room.The video began. I was sitting in Dr. Harrison’s office. I wore a gray sweater, my hair tied back, revealing a thin, almost fragile face. My gaze was slightly unfocused, but I was trying my best to look into the camera.“Today is… wait. Let me ask. Dr. Harrison, what’s the date today?”Off camera, Dr. Harrison said, “March 11th.”“March 11th,” I repeated and suddenly smiled. “Today is Ma

  • The Bride Who Never Was   Chapter 16

    On December 25, Christmas Day, New York had its first snowfall of the winter. Vincent went alone to the Queens Cemetery. A thin layer of snow had settled on my gravestone. He gently brushed it away and placed a bouquet of white chrysanthemums in front of it.On the stone was engraved that same sentence, “Vincent Medici is the most important person in this world.”He crouched down and traced the carved letters with his fingers.“It’s Christmas today,” he said softly. “You used to love Christmas. Every year, you’d hang lights all over the apartment. I used to say, what’s the point of decorating a two-hundred-square-foot place like that, but you said the bigger, the better. It was so that when I came back, I could see it from far away. Then, I came back, but your lights weren’t on anymore.”The snow grew heavier, falling on his hair and shoulders. He didn’t have an umbrella. He just stayed there, crouched in front of the grave.After a long while, footsteps came from behind him. John

  • The Bride Who Never Was   Chapter 15

    After Elena left, Vincent stayed in the Mexican restaurant for a long time. The owner eventually came over and asked if he wanted anything else. Vincent simply shook his head, left a few bills on the table, and stood up to leave.Outside, New York’s night wind hit him along with flashes of neon light. The streets were crowded, but no one paid attention to the man in the black shirt walking through them. He walked slowly, almost aimlessly, until he found himself at the Brooklyn Bridge. Cars streamed across it nonstop, their headlights shining. On the pedestrian walkway, joggers passed by, and couples stopped occasionally to take photos.Vincent walked to the middle of the bridge, the exact spot where I had once crouched down. He crouched there now, resting his hands on his knees, just like I had done that day. From that angle, the Brooklyn skyline flickered in and out of the night. I had written about this place in my diary.“Today I crouched down on the Brooklyn Bridge for a long ti

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