Wowo
Before our wedding, my fiancé, Carlo Vitale—the youngest Don on the East Coast—held a church ceremony with my stepsister.
He said, "According to Mafia rules, only the woman who completes the wedding ceremony with me and receives the blessing of all the family is my true wife.
"So even if your sister Elena is carrying my child, she's nothing more than a mistress."
After the priest's blessing, they exchanged rings.
I stood outside the church, watching through a curtain of rain as he kissed another woman. My face was white.
I had loved Carlo for twelve years, from the ages of sixteen to twenty-eight.
However, he had only ever had my stepsister, Sophia, not me, in his heart.
I chose to let him go.
Later, I left for Europe.
All I left Carlo was a notice of our broken engagement and a parting gift.
For some reason, the man who had always treated me with indifference seemed to have aged ten years overnight.