All Chapters of Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

164 Chapters

finally, i met the years you lost

The next three weeks passed in a blur of boarding passes, coffee that tasted like punishment, and Dianna saying, “There’s been a slight change,” so many times I started considering adding the phrase to GALA’s banned-word list.San Francisco to Los Angeles.Los Angeles to San Francisco.Sometimes I left before Al and Gabby woke up. Sometimes I came home after they were already asleep on their sides in their own beds, cuddling toys that legally should not have been allowed under the blankets.I tested five entrées, rejected three sauces, moved one hundred and twenty chairs eleven inches, and stood in the middle of Villa Miravento’s lawn at nine at night telling a Parisian lighting designer to lower the warmth by two percent.“Two percent won’t be visible,” he said.“It will be to me.”He looked at me like I had personally insulted his country.The lighting was lowered by two percent.It looked better.I also spent two hours arranging mature lemon trees that had arrived on specialized tr

five minutes, no bride

Three hours before the ceremony, the entire venue entered the phase where everyone looked calm because the panic had grown too large to fit on their faces.“Guest arrival at forty percent,” security said.“Press release embargo is still active,” Valentina said.“Catering plating test is complete,” Jemima said.I stood near the lawn entrance, checking the pergola through my tablet. “Dianna, check the candle count on table seven. Jemima, make sure the backup generator is live. No one turns on the overhead lights before the sunset cue.”“Ms. Garcia?” someone called from behind me.I turned.One of Alessandra’s bridesmaids stood there in a champagne-colored silk dress. Her face was pale beneath her makeup. One hand gripped her phone, the other held the edge of her skirt.“What is it?”“It’s about Alessandra.” Her tone made every voice in my earpiece take half a step back.“What happened?”“She finished her makeup earlier. Her hair too.” The bridesmaid looked behind her, toward the private

you chose the woman you forgot.

Signora Marino held her clutch with both hands, her face pale beneath her makeup, while a man who was probably her brother kept asking why security had closed the corridor.“What do you mean Alessandra isn’t in her room?” Signora Marino asked.“She may just need some space,” Dianna replied.“Space where? Nevada?”Someone from the Ricciardi family scoffed.Signora Marino turned immediately. “Is something funny?”“Nothing,” Rafael’s aunt said, even though her face clearly had several ideas.Rafael’s mother stood at the front, still elegant, still calm, but one hand gripped her folding fan too tightly.“Your daughter was the one who insisted this wedding happen now,” she said to Signora Marino. “You were the ones who asked for the date to be moved up, the media controlled, and everyone flown to Los Angeles, and now she disappears five minutes before the altar?”“Alessandra would not leave without a reason.”“I hope the reason is good enough to explain sixty guests, two families, and my s

one missing bride, one hostile acquisition

I froze.NOPE.My brain immediately started working too hard, producing so many thoughts at once that they crashed into each other like expensive cars in valet parking.“You’re walking down the aisle with me.”Pfffttt....His bride was missing, so now he was replacing women the way someone replaced a broken centerpiece five minutes before the guests arrived.No Alessandra? Use Arabella.Out of white flowers? Use cream.Salmon overcooked? Serve steak.Ex-wife available? Put her at the altar.Apparently, the helicopter had erased six years of his memory but left the entire warehouse of wealthy Italian male audacity perfectly intact.I stared at him.Rafael was still standing directly in front of me, tall, calm, and deeply irritating in a black tuxedo fitted across his shoulders as if the fabric had been designed after studying sin academically. His hair was neat except for one dark piece falling slightly over his forehead. His eyes didn’t blink.He is Dead serious. I laughed.I laughed

built for hell, dressed for marriage

My jaw tightened.Rafael stepped closer again.Now there was only one step between us. His cologne reached me, cedar, citrus, and something dark. The same scent from Lake Como. The same scent that had once clung to the pillow after he left and abandoned a black folder on the breakfast table.He didn’t remember destroying my life once, but his body clearly still remembered the route.“There’s another option,” he said.I looked up. “You call that an option?”“You walk down the aisle with me. The wedding happens. The transaction closes. Every vendor gets paid in full. Ricciardi covers every change fee, every Marino cancellation, and every loss your team incurs today.”“How generous. Do I also get complimentary breakfast after this legal kidnapping?”“GALA receives a written statement confirming that Alessandra’s disappearance had nothing to do with any operational failure by your company.”I went quiet.“No claims,” he continued. “No investigation. No mention of GALA in any public report

mrs. ricciardi, version 2.0

“You look beautiful.”I didn’t hear her.I mean, my ears caught the woman’s voice. Soft, professional, slightly rushed because the world outside this room was standing with one foot over a cliff and asking us to fix the eyeliner faster.But the words didn’t really register.I sat in front of Alessandra’s vanity with my back straight and both hands folded in my lap while the woman behind me swept a large brush over my cheekbones.One hour.It had been one hour since I slapped Rafael.One hour since he walked out of the bridal suite with a red mark on his face and the expression of a man who had just received a weather report, not his ex-wife’s palm.One hour since he stood in front of both families and announced, without giving anyone time to prepare their nervous systems, that the ceremony would still happen.With Arabella Garcia as the bride.Not the prospective bride.Not a temporary replacement.Not the woman who happened to be tall enough to fit into the dress.The bride.Me.The

ready, action

My phone lit up.KENDRA.I grabbed it too quickly, making the makeup artist let out a small sound of protest.There was a photo on the screen.Gabby sat on the living room floor in pink pajamas and the plastic crown Rafael had repaired. A yellow crayon was in her hand. Al sat beside her with the whale shark in his lap, his face serious as he stared at the turned-off television.Kendra’s message appeared beneath the photo.[They keep asking if Rich Lemon Man is married yet. I told them the event is still happening. Technically not a lie.]A second message came in.[Gabby says if the bride runs away, Mami can be the bride because Mami is the prettiest.]I stared at the screen.Funny.My four-year-old daughter had just predicted a disaster with the accuracy of an oracle and the logic of a tiny capitalist.A third message.[Al says Mami isn’t allowed to get married because Mami once said men are an “administrative burden.”]The corner of my mouth moved.Only slightly.The makeup artist ca

his ex-wife walked down the aisle

The moment the door opened, the air from the corridor hit me, and I immediately came face-to-face with... Alessandra’s bridesmaids waiting outside.Five women.All of them wearing the champagne silk dresses I had personally chosen three weeks ago after Alessandra rejected four shades for being too “warm,” too “sad,” too “bridesmaid at a vineyard divorce.”Now those dresses stood in front of me like proof that my aesthetic judgment could still win even while my life was being slowly fried.Two of them were crying. One held a tissue carefully beneath her eyes, trying hard not to ruin her makeup. Another was actually crying.The third looked angry.The fourth looked at me like I was the patron saint of reputation management.The fifth didn’t like me, and I did not care about anything today.“Oh my God,” the first bridesmaid said, covering her mouth. “Ms. Garcia .”I lifted one eyebrow. “If this is about the dress, I already know. She and I are currently in an unhealthy working relationsh

may god help my husband, coz i won't

The first step felt like walking into water.Everyone stood.The sound of chairs shifting blended with the music. On the left, I saw Rafael’s aunt cover her mouth with two fingers, her eyes wet. On the right, Signora Marino sat rigid like a couture statue of salt. One of the Marino relatives looked at me like I had stolen the leading role in a drama that was supposed to belong to their family.I wanted to say, honey, I didn’t audition.Rafael’s father held my hand steadily.For something born out of chaos, the touch was too kind. Annoying, how sometimes the family that had once hurt me could still open small doors I had nailed shut from the inside.We kept walking.Rafael didn’t look away.His eyes dropped once to my dress, to the bouquet, to his father’s hand over mine, then returned to my face.I lifted my chin slightly.Don’t look nervous.Don’t look scared.Don’t look like a woman walking toward her amnesiac ex-husband while hiding two four-year-old children who might currently be

till litigation do us part

I didn’t have time to move.I didn’t have time to ask, familiar how, Rafael? Familiar like cheap déjà vu because you just kissed a woman who clearly wanted to kick you into the fountain, or familiar like your brain had started digging up those six buried years with a teaspoon and a level of confidence no piece of cutlery had any right to possess?The applause erupted, and everyone stood.Chairs shifted across the grass with a sound far too polite for what had just happened. To the right of the altar, the Ricciardi family’s private camera moved smoothly to follow us. It was for private use, the family archive, internal documentation, a video that might one day be played at an anniversary dinner if everyone lost their minds and electricity had not yet been invented to save us.I smiled immediately because my body had been trained by events, family, and trauma to perform certain functions when the world collapsed: chin up, shoulders down, lips curved, eyes dry, don’t kill anyone before d

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