6 Chapter 6
Dante pulled some strings, tapping into the Falcone family’s information network to check property records.
What he found shocked him: my name had been wiped from all family records. I was officially marked as “missing.”
Even the penthouse, our once–shared home, was no longer in my name.
Panic seized him, a cold dread propelling him out of the hotel in a desperate rush to get home.
Before he could reach his car, Carina appeared, blocking his path.
She was wearing the custom gown I had so meticulously chosen.
“Dante,” she purred, her voice sickly sweet, “Isabella is just being petty about the blood donation. A woman like that doesn’t deserve you.”
She moved closer, her tone coquettish.
“The guests are all waiting. Why don’t you marry me instead? I promise to take care of you, to make you happy.”
As she spoke, her fingers gently traced the side of his neck in a gesture of practiced intimacy.
On any other day, Dante might have succumbed, finding a quiet corner for a moment’s pleasure.
But not today.
He roughly shoved her away, his voice sharp and cold.
*Carina, listen to me,” he snarled, his voice dangerously low. “We’re done. If you’ve cost me Isabella, I swear to God I’ll tell your father exactly what kind of daughter he raised.”
Carina’s eyes welled with tears as she began to sob.
“Are you saying you never cared? What about all those promises?”
Dante had no more patience for her drama. The urgency to find me overrode everything else, and he shoved her violently to the ground.
“My wife will only ever be Isabella,” he declared.
“And I am going to bring her back. Now get out of my life.”
Without waiting for a response, he kicked her hand away as she reached for him and jumped
into his car.
Tires screeching, he sped off, blowing through a series of red lights in his haste to get back to our former apartment.
When he arrived, he interrogated the housekeeper until she reluctantly led him to the building’s garbage disposal area.
There, amidst the filth, were the treasures I had once cherished.
The custom jewelry that symbolized our bond, souvenirs from our travels, even the bullet
6 Chapter 6
casing engraved with our vows–all of it, discarded like trash.
Dante’s chest tightened.
He clutched his shirt, his face pale as he dialed my number again and again.
The phone just rang, each unanswered tone a hammer blow to his gut.
He stared at his phone, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut: their last call was seventeen days ago. For seventeen days, he’d been so lost in his own filth he’d completely forgotten she existed.
If it hadn’t been for the calendar reminder last night, he might not have even remembered that today was their engagement party.
And even then, he had arrogantly assumed I would be there waiting for him, ready to play the part of his bride.
Now, reality had shattered that arrogance.
He turned to his men, his lips trembling.
“What do I do? Did Isabella give up on me? She said she didn’t need me to marry her. Was she planning to leave all along?”
His men quickly tried to reassure him.
“Come on, boss. No man is a saint. She’s just pissed. Where’s she gonna go? Who else can give the Falcones what you can?”
“That’s right,” another chimed in. “She’ll be back. Just give her a few days.”
A third offered a different take, leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper.
“You know what? You should go through with the party. With Carina.
Isabella thinks you’re so devoted you won’t do it without her.
She’s testing you, trying to get the upper hand.
If you fold now, she’ll walk all over you.”
Dante’s eyes flickered with a desperate glimmer of hope.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“That’s it.
Isabella is mine. Her destiny is tied to me.
She would never really leave.
If she sees me about to marry someone else, she’ll have to come back and stop it.”
One of his men clapped him on the shoulder.
“Exactly. Let’s go get ready. Better yet, let’s livestream it. That way, when she comes back, you can tell her it was all just an act to get her attention”
