Semua Bab The Wedding He Stole From Me: Bab 1 - Bab 10

I returned to the bridal room and sent Adrian one message.The wedding is canceled.His call came less than ten seconds later.“Elena, have you made enough of a scene?”His voice was low.“Livia slit her wrist. The doctor said she can’t be upset again. Are you really going to fight her over a ceremony right now?”The ring box sat open on the vanity. Inside were the bands I had picked up myself, our names engraved along the inner edges.“Adrian, today is our seventh anniversary. It is also the wedding we spent six months preparing.”“I know.”“But this is a life-or-death matter. You have always been the sensible one. Help her get through this.”I said nothing.“She has severe depression. Her only obsession is to wear a wedding dress once and marry me once.”“It has no legal force. The Moretti marriage papers have not changed. You are still my fiancée.”Legally, maybe. But in the Moretti world, whoever stood beside the Don at that altar became his Donna in the eyes of the family.He paus

After leaving the hotel, I went to Southbank House, the place Adrian had prepared for us after the wedding.It was the Moretti family’s riverside safe house. There was an armory belowground, an escape route through the garage, and a top-floor bedroom overlooking the river.Adrian had once said it would be our home after the ceremony.I pressed my thumb to the lock.【Access denied.】I tried again.Still denied.The door opened from inside.Nico, Adrian’s underboss, stood behind it.“Elena.”I looked past him.The living room had changed.My embroidery frame had been moved to the corner and covered with a dust cloth. The wedding sketches on the table were gone, replaced by medicine bottles, therapy notes, and a humidifier.Above the fireplace, there had once been the wedding crest I designed for both families.The black eagle and the trailing vines had taken seventeen drafts.Now a painting of white irises hung there.Livia’s favorite flower.Nico closed the door.“Don Moretti ordered us

The air in Santa Fe was dry and sharp, carrying the scent of sage and mineral dye across the yard.I lived in a small room behind the textile workshop.At dawn, I learned to boil dye, rinse cloth, and hang thread with the other apprentices. At dusk, I sat in the courtyard and sorted patterns under the cottonwood tree outside my window.The quiet felt unfamiliar.Back in New York, Adrian was still standing inside Vale Atelier.He stared at the torn draft of the black eagle crest on the table, his frown deepening.He thought I had only found another place to hide.It had happened before. After our arguments, I would go to Mrs. Bellamy’s workshop or lock myself in the embroidery room until midnight. He would come with dessert, lower his voice, and I would always give him a way back in.Adrian set the hazelnut cake on the table and called me.The call went straight to voicemail.He tried again.The same result.He opened our chat and typed:Elena, stop this.A gray circle appeared beside t

Adrian shoved open the courtyard gate and strode in.Before I could move, he knocked the wildflowers from my hand and pulled me behind him.“Who are you?”His stare fixed on the young man in front of me.“Stay away from my fiancée.”Everyone in the courtyard stopped working.The young man froze, one hand still half raised.“Elena?”He looked at me.“Is he a friend of yours?”I pulled my wrist free. Adrian had held it hard enough to leave a faint ache.“I don’t know him.”“Just someone asking for directions.”Adrian turned sharply.“Elena, what did you say?”I ignored him, bent down, picked up the flowers, and handed them back.“Mateo, I’m sorry.”Mateo took them, his expression stiff. He stepped back, but Adrian’s eyes stayed on the space between us.“You disappeared for days to come here and meet him?”“Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?”“Do you know everyone is worried sick?”I looked at him.His jaw was dark with stubble, his eyes bloodshot, and his shirt collar wrinkl

Adrian stared at the old phone in my hand.For the first time, panic broke through those cold, controlled eyes.“No,” he said hoarsely. “Recordings can be faked. Livia wouldn’t do this.”“Then have them examined.”I put the phone away.“Find the truth yourself.”Then I looked toward my mother and the guards behind her.“Now take your people and leave.”My mother grabbed my wrist.“Elena, Mom was wrong.”Her voice shook. She no longer sounded like Mrs. Vale, the woman who only knew how to give orders.“I shouldn’t have favored Livia. I was fooled too.”“But Vale Atelier can’t collapse. That penalty will ruin us. The house, the shop, the equipment—everything will be taken.”Tears slid down her face.“Help your family. Please.”I looked down at her.This woman had given birth to me. She had taught me my first stitch, then erased my name from every piece I made.I felt no pleasure.Only exhaustion.“Mom,” I said, “this is the last time I’ll call you that.”“I taught Vale Atelier everything