Startseite / Mafia Kurzgeschichte / When My Fiancé Don Posed With My Sister, I Left / Kapitel 1 – Kapitel 9

Alle Kapitel von When My Fiancé Don Posed With My Sister, I Left: Kapitel 1 – Kapitel 9

9 Kapitel

Chapter 1

I changed back into my own clothes, picked up my clutch from the armchair, and pushed open the heavy oak door.The hinges groaned—low and long.No one looked up.I turned for a last glance. Serafina was angling herself before the mirror, and Lorenzo knelt behind her, lifting the train of her skirt. The photographer called out, “Don’t move—perfect angle.”I turned and walked out the front gate.Sliding into my car, my phone buzzed. A message from the wedding planner: Miss Vittoria, have you decided on the bouquet?Before I could answer, another one popped up: Or Serafina could choose for you—she knows your taste and has great style.The car was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat, counting something. Counting how many times I’d been erased in this arrangement.I typed back: Let Serafina pick.After all, Lorenzo always thought her taste was better.A reply came instantly: Got it.I stared at the screen. Probably relieved—no more backandforth with a wishywashy bride.Then messages s

Chapter 2

While I was packing, Serafina videocalled me.I answered. On her screen, someone was draping jewels around her neck.“Sister, you’re so slow—you haven’t chosen the wedding jewelry yet, so I’m trying some on for you!”I watched her preen in the mirror. I wanted to say: Two weeks ago, I told you I’d wear Mother’s set. Or: Did anyone ever ask what I wanted? But the words died.I’d asked. I’d been unhappy. I’d stood my ground. But they always said: “You’re the eldest daughter of the Corleone family—you should be generous with your sister.”Lorenzo, my fiancé, always took her side. When our families first arranged the match, he said he admired my quiet steadiness—that I’d be a perfect Don’s wife. But whenever Serafina was around, he’d pivot, saying the Don’s wife needed to be sparkling and everpresent.One time I said, “Could you not be so close to Serafina?”He laughed and patted my hand. “She’s your sister. You want me to treat her like a stranger?”I fell silent. Of course not. From ch

Chapter 3

That afternoon, I drove to the Morretti estate.In my bag: his keys, his credit card, the clothes he’d left at my place.The butler smiled. “Miss Vittoria, I’ll tell Don Lorenzo—”“No need.” I handed him the bag. “Please give him this.”I turned to leave. At the top of the stairs, I caught Lorenzo’s voice and slowed.“Saturday—I’ll take you to testdrive that new car?”My fingers curled.His laugh drifted through the halfopen door. “I know, I know—you want to go for a spin. I’ll make it work. Your sister—I’ll deal with her.”I laughed bitterly. Even now, I still hoped.We’d planned to finally take that trip to the Alps to see the first snow—something he’d promised three winters ago. We’d scheduled it for this Saturday. And now he was pushing it aside for Serafina.I didn’t stay. I walked down the stairs and out.I drove straight to the old family house in Tuscany.The next day, while I was clearing out boxes, Mrs. Rossi, our old housekeeper, found me.“Vittoria, take a rest.”I shook

Chapter 4

(Lorenzo’s POV)The wedding was Monday.Lorenzo glanced at his navigation and asked Serafina: “You’re sure Vittoria is at this hotel?”“Positive. I sent her the address—it’s upscale, near your place, way more convenient than her old apartment.”Lorenzo nodded. “You’re reliable. Unlike your sister—that cold fish. Since the Don said we shouldn’t meet, she hasn’t even replied to my messages.”He opened the car door.Serafina naturally slid into the passenger seat. “Let’s go—she’ll be waiting.”A Morretti family member called out: “Serafina, that’s the bride’s seat—take my car.”“No way.” She made a face. “Lorenzo drives better.”Lorenzo laughed. “You’re impossible.”They pulled into the hotel. Lorenzo walked ahead, Serafina at his side.The front desk clerk stopped them. “May I help you?”“Looking for someone.” Lorenzo gave the room number. “Room 302, Vittoria.”The clerk checked. “I’m sorry, sir—that room hasn’t been checked in.”Lorenzo stared, then turned to Serafina.“Impossible!” She

Chapter 5

（Lorenzo’s POV）A cold knot formed in Lorenzo’s chest—he sensed he’d failed somehow, but he wasn’t ready to admit it.The Don’s voice sharpened: “What? Serafina didn’t stay with her sister? We told her to take care of Vittoria—how could she be so careless?”Lorenzo said nothing. He hung up, head pounding.“Let’s go to her apartment,” he said. “She’s probably upset I left without her at your uncle’s.”Now that he thought about it, leaving his bride behind was unconscionable.Serafina followed, then slapped her forehead. “Oh no—I forgot the wedding dress!”Lorenzo stopped. “What dress?”“The gown Vittoria’s supposed to wear today—I left it at home.”Lorenzo realized something was deeply wrong. All along, the dress—the selection, the storage, everything—had bypassed Vittoria. Serafina had taken it and hung it in her own closet.He rarely frowned at Serafina, but now he did. “Go back, get it, then drive to her apartment.”In the car, his phone was still on the mount, Vittoria’s chat thread

Chapter 6

（Lorenzo’s POV）The hallway went silent.Lorenzo stood frozen, a sour, swelling pressure in his chest. “Did she say where she was going?”“No.” The man shrugged. “Place was empty when I arrived.”Lorenzo’s mind buzzed. Serafina tugged his sleeve. He shook her off and strode out.He dialed Vittoria again. Still off. Earlier he’d assumed it was tradition; now panic set in.He stared at her name on the screen—strange, foreign. He didn’t know where she was, when she’d moved, why she’d sublet. Nothing.She’d always been so accommodating—never made him feel lost.Serafina followed. “Maybe she went back to the old house. Let’s check there.”Lorenzo didn’t reply. He called the butler. “Has Vittoria been to the estate?”The butler hesitated. “Yes—last Thursday afternoon. She left something for you, but you were so busy...”Lorenzo hung up, jumped in the car, and sped off, leaving Serafina behind.At the Morretti villa, the butler handed him a parcel.Lorenzo tore it open: credit card, keys, clo

Chapter 7

（Lorenzo’s POV）Serafina’s smile faltered.“First, we find her,” Lorenzo said. “Search everywhere.”They called everyone: Vittoria’s lawyer said she’d terminated all family legal mandates—signed last week. The landlord confirmed her lease was closed. Friends searched all over—no one had seen her.She’d vanished. No note, no word.Lorenzo sat in his car, screen brightening and dimming. He’d called every contact, every possible place. She didn’t want to be found.The thought hit like ice water—worse than a fight, worse than silence. She hadn’t even bothered to say “I’m ending this.” She simply erased herself from his life.Eight years later.Vittoria came back on a winter evening.She dragged one suitcase out of the airport and looked up at the leaden sky. A few snowflakes drifted lazily.She smiled.Eight years—she’d seen the Northern Lights in Iceland, the stars in New Zealand, rode hotair balloons in Turkey, trekked the African savanna. Learned to dive, got certified. Skied, surfed.

Chapter 8

（Lorenzo’s POV）Vittoria had been gone eight years. Lorenzo had waited eight.He didn’t know if she’d ever come back, or if she’d even look at him. But he waited, stubbornly.He turned down six political matches. The family council pressed; he traded assets for freedom. No one understood, but he knew who he was waiting for.Then his assistant called: “Don Lorenzo—airport security thinks they spotted Miss Vittoria.”Lorenzo shot up from his chair. The elevator was too slow; he ran down fifteen flights of stairs, legs shaking by the bottom. He was terrified she’d leave again.On the highway, forty minutes to go—too long. His mind raced.He rehearsed first words: You’re back? I’m sorry? I missed you? No. What he owed couldn’t be summed up.He remembered how, after their engagement, he’d gradually lost interest in her, drawn to Serafina’s vivacity. He’d stopped asking Vittoria, “Do you want this?” And yet she’d still managed his household, faced the council, remembered every date he forgot

Chapter 9

（Lorenzo’s POV）After a long moment, she lifted her head and smiled. “Lorenzo, I don’t blame you anymore. Truly.”“These eight years, I thought a lot,” she said slowly. “I used to believe I wasn’t good enough—not smart enough, pretty enough, interesting enough—so you turned away. But I realized: that wasn’t my fault. You didn’t put me first. That wasn’t my failing.”He could only nod. He couldn’t deny it.“So from now on,” she said, “let’s not see each other again.”She took her suitcase and walked past him.“Vittoria—” He stumbled after her. “I didn’t come to ask for forgiveness. I’ve been asking myself where I lost you...”She stopped and looked back, wind blowing hair across her face.“Lorenzo,” she said quietly. “I left because I realized that no matter how hard I tried—how much I gave, how much I accommodated—you didn’t see me. I was right beside you, but your eyes were on someone else. That made me feel like I was optional.”She took a breath. “I don’t want to be optional anymore

CODE SCANNEN, UM IN DER APP ZU LESEN

DMCA.com Protection Status