The Mafia Heir Gave My Wedding To My Sister Chapter 08
Adrian immediately called my parents.
My mother picked up quickly, her voice warm. “Adrian, what’s going on?”
Adrian was blunt. “Emma signed an overseas contract. Did you know about this?”
My mother paused, her tone going cold. “Whatever she signs has nothing to do with us.”
Before Adrian could respond, she softened again. “Adrian, when are you coming to see Lily? She’s been crying for days, saying she did something wrong and made you angry.”
“Don’t hold it against her. I’ve already talked to her. She’s just childish, that’s all—but she’s so much better than Emma.”
“Emma, with that dark, selfish personality of hers—”
Adrian couldn’t take it anymore.
He gripped the phone and snarled, “Enough!”
“With a family like you, no wonder she left.”
My mother got defensive, her voice rising. “But when we told you to marry Lily, didn’t you agree?”
Adrian had no answer for that.
He hung up and collapsed back into his chair.
Images flooded his mind—me staying up all night organizing his files, me selling my own jewelry to scrape together his first round of seed money.
At the hardest point, I’d even tried to sell Rose’s jade bracelet.
He was the one who stopped me.
He’d said, “Keep it. At least hold on to one thing to remember her by.”
Later, I tried to sell it behind his back.
He spent twice the price to buy it back.
Back then, he’d cared so deeply.
But when Lily shattered that last remnant of my grandmother, the despair in my eyes was unmistakable.
And what did he do?
He looked the other way.
He stood by while the Morettis forced me to kneel on broken jade.
Adrian raked his fingers through his hair, agitated, the ache in his chest growing worse by the second.
He stood. “Get me a ticket to Marseille.”
His assistant quickly reminded him, “Sir, there’s a family council meeting tonight.”
Adrian was too rattled to care. “Push it.”
The assistant’s voice was barely above a whisper. “But this could affect your standing on the committee.”
Adrian didn’t answer.
He was past the point of caring about any of that.
So when I walked out of the branch office that evening, Adrian was standing at the entrance.
He saw me, and his eyes slowly turned red.
When he approached, he looked almost lost—unsure what to do with his hands. “Emma, I was wrong.”
He reached for my hand.
I stepped aside, just slightly, and met his gaze. “Mr. Romano. Can I help you?”
The formality was clean. And utterly foreign.
Adrian swayed, almost imperceptibly.
He looked at me with something close to desperation. “Emma, don’t do this. Let’s sit down and talk. Please.”
Colleagues drifted past us in both directions.
I nodded. “All right.”
We walked into a Cajun restaurant on the corner.
Adrian pulled out my chair, then took the menu himself. “Spicy fried chicken, Cajun beef, jalapeno soup…”
He looked at me, eager to please. “Emma, I know these are all your favorites. I remember every single one.”
I said, “You remember every single one.”
“So at our wedding, you still went with Lily’s preferences.”
Adrian’s face darkened. “I just felt sorry for her—”
I held his gaze. “She deserves pity, so I’m the one who gets stepped on?”
Adrian faltered, then lowered his head. “I just… wasn’t thinking. I didn’t realize you’d be this upset.”
“If I’d known it would mean losing you, I never would have—”
I laughed. “You didn’t know it would hurt me?”
“If I brought another woman in to destroy something your mother left you, to wear your suit, to stand in your place and go through with your wedding—would you not know what pain feels like then?”
“Or does it only not count as long as it’s not happening to you?”
Adrian’s lips parted, but nothing came out.
I looked at him, my voice perfectly steady. “Adrian, when you’ve done what you’ve done, you pay the price.”
“I don’t hate you. Let’s end this with some dignity.”