Into The Rival's Arms: The Decoy's Escape

I stood behind the velvet curtain, clutching a positive pregnancy test, waiting for the perfect moment to tell Dante our family was growing.

Instead, I heard him laugh.

"She is not the bride," Dante told his Consigliere, swirling his fifty-year-old scotch. "She is the bulletproof vest I wear until it is safe for Sofia to enter the city. When the bullets stop flying, we throw the vest in the trash."

My world shattered.

When Sofia arrived that night, she didn't just take my place; she boiled my beloved cat for dinner. Dante didn't defend me.