Chapter 4: The Wedding That Wasn't Mine

And now they were telling me they hadn’t crossed a line.

Gianna’s account updated again, fast.

She clinked glasses with both sets of parents, accepted gifts from the guests, poured a champagne tower with Hollis, and listened to the elders give their speeches.

She even sat in the seat to Hollis’s right—the one reserved for the wife.

This had gone far beyond the “just one entrance” Hollis had promised me.

Only after the bouquet toss was over did Hollis finally send me a message.

[Are you back at the hotel? Wait in the bridal suite for a bit. Gianna was having so much fun she ended up trying out some of the later parts of the ceremony, too.]

[The signet ring is just on her hand temporarily. The officiant didn’t formally acknowledge her. Don’t make an issue of it. Consider it compensation for making her cry earlier.]

The bridal suite was only two doors down from the ballroom.

But he still wouldn’t come see me.

I didn’t reply to Hollis.

I just took a screenshot from the corner of one of Gianna’s videos—a shot of the ruined wedding cake—and sent it to him.

[Why did you let her touch my cake?]

His reply came fast.

[It’s just a cake, Willa. Don’t make this into a bigger deal than it is.]

[I’ll have the hotel order another one.]

I bit my lip, staring at the screen.

[Did you forget every single promise you made me?]

I had thought there was no room left for disappointment, but a fresh wave of pain tightened in my chest.

The wedding dress, the one I’d spent weeks searching for, had been damaged when Gianna tried it on in secret. Hollis had just said we’d replace it.

The garden venue by the sea that I had chosen was switched by Gianna to this grand banquet hall, one better suited for the long family tables.

As the Rossi family representative, she’d demanded the change, and no one at the hotel dared refuse. Hollis had only told me to listen to her—that she knew what the elders preferred.

By the end of all the wedding preparations, I had only one request left.

I had to make the wedding cake myself.

I’m a pastry chef.

It was the skill I’d built my life on after graduation.

It was the one thing that was mine, the one thing that let me stand on my own, outside the Lombardi family.

Gianna hadn’t come back yet then.

Hollis had stood outside the dessert shop I was getting ready to open, smiling at me.

“My girl really doesn’t ask for much.”

“Fine. When the time comes, I’ll make sure every single guest eats the cake. Even those old heads who usually won’t drink anything but whiskey. They’ll eat it, and they’ll give our pastry chef the best review possible.”

I threw myself into his arms and laughed.

“You always say things like that.”

I scrubbed back and forth through the video, my eyes fixed on that small section.

I’d arrived at the hotel early and spent the entire day making that five-tier fondant cake.

Now, it had been hacked to pieces.

According to our plan, Hollis and I were supposed to cut the first slice and serve it to his father.

Before I could even taste a single bite, Gianna had scooped out a huge chunk and smeared it across the face of one of Hollis’s friends.

Then everyone had joined in.

Cream flew everywhere.

No one stopped them.

At that long table, if Hollis didn’t say anything, no one was going to offend the daughter of the Rossi family for an outsider bride.

In the end, hotel staff swept the remains of the cake into the kitchen trash.

Hollis paused before he replied.

[Willa Cross, stop acting like everyone owes you something.]

[It’s just a cake. Is this really necessary? None of your family even came. The girls who were supposed to be your bridesmaids were people Gianna found for you at the last minute. The witnesses here tonight are only here because of the Lombardi family in the first place.]

That line ripped open a wound I had refused to touch.

I jabbed at the screen.

[You know better than anyone why my parents refused to come.]

There was no reply.

But I remembered that day all too clearly.

The blood on the floor.

The pain in my abdomen, a tearing sensation that stole my breath.

Instinctively, I had called the person I trusted most.

The moment the call connected, a delicate, spoiled female voice rang out.

“Didn’t we agree we’d spend the whole day having fun? Stop answering your phone!”

It was loud on her end, the thumping beat of festival music.

Then the call disconnected.

That day, Hollis had also reassigned the two men stationed outside my apartment building to protect me, sending them to clear a path for Gianna instead.

I lost the baby.

By the time I woke up, I was in the hospital.

The first person I saw wasn’t Hollis.

It wasn’t even the Lombardi family’s private doctor.

It was my roommate.

She had come home from work, found me unconscious on the floor, rushed me to the ER, and signed all the paperwork that required a companion’s signature.

At the time, I’d known her for less than a month.

But she was the one who stayed at the hospital with me.