Darling, I Remember

The night before my wedding, I was thrown into a warehouse and beaten like I was nothing. Three hours of fists, boots, and broken bones.

By my father’s orders. All so my half-sister could walk down the aisle in my place.

And when I was dumped in a clinic, half-dead, Matteo Rossi; my father, the almighty mafia don, stood outside my hospital room and said,

“I didn’t expect them to go that far. But it works. Rupert won’t want a ruined bride.”

That’s what I am to them.

Ruined. Disposable. A pawn.