He Claimed My Sister So I Married A Mafia Don Chapter 01
My Fiancée
The day after our families announce our engagement, my fiancé calls my sister his fiancée.
There’s a photograph.
Bianca is pressed against Dante’s side, his hand resting on her waist. They’re standing beneath the chandeliers at a dinner I was supposed to attend with him.
He told me it had been canceled.
Beneath the photograph, from his own account, are two words.
My fiancée.
By morning, someone has posted it beside our engagement announcement.
Apparently, the Morettis sent the wrong daughter.
Dante has liked the comment.
I take a screenshot before he can undo it.
Then I call him.
He declines.
A voice message arrives a minute later.
“Bianca was upset about the announcement. People kept asking when it would be her turn. I was trying to make her feel better.”
Another follows.
“You’re the one I’m marrying, Adriana. Don’t turn this into a problem.”
I’m standing in the kitchen of the house we’ve shared for two years.
On the counter is the invitation to our engagement celebration.
Six weeks away.
Both families. Business partners. People who will notice where they’re seated and who gets thanked first.
People who know the heir to the De Luca crime family doesn’t introduce a woman as his future wife by accident.
I type:
Then marry her. Our engagement is over.
This time, he calls.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Exactly what it says.”
“You’re going to throw away five years over a photograph?”
“You told me the dinner was canceled.”
A pause.
“It was easier than having another argument.”
“About taking my sister instead of me?”
“Her father died for your family, Adriana. She already feels like she doesn’t belong.”
Bianca was five when my parents took her in.
I was nine.
I shared my room when she was afraid to sleep alone. Later, my friends. My birthday parties. Whatever made her feel less like a guest.
Somewhere along the way, Dante decided I should share him, too.
“Did you read the comments?” I ask.
“You shouldn’t read that garbage.”
“You liked one.”
Silence.
Then, “I’ll deal with it.”
“You already did.”
Her voice comes through the phone.
“Is she angry?”
Dante says something I can’t hear.
A moment later, Bianca is speaking to me.
“Adriana, I didn’t ask him to write that.”
“But you let everyone congratulate you.”
“What was I supposed to do? Embarrass him?”
I look at the invitation again.
My name beneath his.
“You could have told the truth.”
“I’ll ask him to delete it.”
“You don’t need to ask him anything.”
“Oh.” Her voice brightens. “So we’re okay?”
“No.”
She goes quiet.
Then Dante is back.
“She’s crying.”
“I’m ending our engagement.”
“You’ve said that.”
“And you’re still talking about her.”
He exhales sharply.
“Both families have given their word.”
“I gave mine to you. You stood beside someone else and called her your fiancée.”
“To cheer her up.”
“Then I hope she’s happy.”
“Adriana.”
For once, I let him wait.
“We’ll talk when I get home,” he says.
“There’s nothing left to explain.”
“You’re not canceling anything until we’ve discussed it.”
I end the call.
My mother answers before the second ring.
“I’ve seen the photograph.”
“Then you know why I’m calling.”
“Your father is speaking to Dante’s father.”
“Good. Tell him the engagement is over.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
I close my eyes.
“Dante made a mistake,” she says. “We can correct it without humiliating both families.”
“What about humiliating me?”
“No one wants that.”
“It already happened.”
She lowers her voice.
“What am I supposed to tell people?”
“Tell them I’m not marrying him.”
“And Bianca?”
I look at the photograph on the side table.
It was taken the night Dante proposed.
Bianca asked to join us. In the frame he chose, she’s holding his arm.
Only half of me is visible.
“You can ask her what she wants,” I tell my mother. “You usually do.”
“Adriana—”
“Remove my name from the celebration.”
I hang up.
Then I take the photograph out of its frame.
For the first time, I see the whole picture.
There was room for me.
Dante had folded my side out of sight.