I Was the Don’s Stand-In Bride

Sofia Santoro, my brother said into the line, his voice edged with suspicion and concern, did someone cross you?

He paused, as if weighing every breath I took. Even with miles between us, he could hear itthe tension I tried so hard to bury beneath indifference.

I let out a soft laugh, light on the surface, though bitterness coiled tight around my throat. No. Nothing like that. Ive just made up my mind. If Im being married off either way, does it truly matter who ends up beside me?

Youre serious? His tone dropped, gentler now but still probing. Sofia, if theres trouble, you dont have to carry it alone. This rushthis sudden willingnesswhat changed? You never wanted this life.

Because I never did. My loyalty, my heartit had all been handed to Rocco long before duty ever entered the conversation. But loyalty meant nothing when you were only ever a substitute. After years of secrecy, waiting in shadows, loving a man who kept one foot elsewhere, I finally saw the truth. I was never the choice. Just the placeholder.

I told you already, I said, forcing another small laugh, sharper this time. Ive thought it through. Im not getting any younger. In our world, waiting too long makes you irrelevant.

Dont talk like that, he snapped, slipping back into the voice of a boss, not just a brother. Ill arrange an introduction with the man we selected. At least see who youll be tied to.

Theres no need, I replied calmly, even as something inside me cracked. I trust our parents judgment. They wouldnt align me with anyone careless. Arranged or not, Im sure the decision was calculated.

Silence filled the line. Then came his sighheavy, conflicted. Years ago, my refusal to fall in line had rattled the family, especially him. Hearing me finally yield seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders.

Im relieved youve accepted it, he said quietly. When are you coming back? Are you sure you dont want to meet him before we seal anything?

No, I answered without hesitation, practicality hardening my voice. The faster its done, the faster the family can move forward. Set the date. One month from now.

Alright, he agreed, though doubt lingered beneath the words. One more thing are you still in contact with Rocco? I heard Antonellas back in the city. Maybe you should invite him. Might bring some luck to the union.

The words hit like ice down my spine. So he knew. Of course he did. In this world, nothing stayed hidden forever. No wonder Rocco had insisted our affair remain buried for years.

I lowered my eyes, swallowing the sharp sting blooming in my chest. Dont involve him, I muttered. Were not close anymore.

Just then, the faint click of a lock turning echoed through the room. I ended the call quickly, my pulse spiking as I straightened.

When I looked up, Rocco stood in the doorway.

His smile was effortless, devastating. His eyes shone with a warmth that tightened my chestbut I knew better now. That look wasnt meant for me. It never truly had been.

Not close to who? he asked lightly, curiosity threading his tone.

To you, I replied, blunt despite the tremor in my voice.

His brow arched. Before I could step away, he crossed the space between us and pulled me into his arms. Amusement curved his lips as he leaned in, his breath brushing my ear.

Is that so? he murmured, teasing and low. Then explain something to me, sweetheart. How exactly are we not close? After everything weve shared?

Once, that closeness had made my heart soar. Now it sent unease racing through my veins. I shifted in his gripand then I saw it. A faint smear of lipstick staining his collar.

The burns around my wrist pulsed painfully, each throb echoing the betrayal I hadnt escaped. Tears rose before I could stop them, hot and traitorous.

Sofia whats wrong? His voice changed instantly, confidence giving way to alarm. He rolled up my sleeve, revealing the angry marks beneath.

His face darkened. When did this happen? Who did this? Why didnt you tell me?

The concern in his eyes looked real. And somehow, that hurt more than indifference ever could. Had he truly erased the banquet from his memory so easily?

I said nothing.

I stood there, torn between ripping away the illusion he clung toor letting him continue believing everything between us was still untouched, still normal, still his to keep.

Enough, he said quietly, firm but gentle. Stop crying. Ill deal with it.

Rocco brushed my hair back with practiced ease, his thumb sweeping away the tears that kept slipping down my face. He pressed a brief kiss against my temple before straightening and heading off to grab a cold compress, muttering under his breath like this was all routine.

Always acting like you dont need anyone, he added over his shoulder, half-teasing, half-scolding. Yet the moment you get hurt, you fall apart. What would you do if I wasnt around?

I didnt answer. My eyes stayed fixed on the raw, reddened skin circling my wrist. Seven years. Seven years of being sheltered, soothed, protected by him. Wrapped in his attention like it was something permanent. What would I have done without Rocco?

The truth hit harder than the pain: I didnt want to find out anymore. I didnt want his care, his concern, or this hollow imitation of intimacy. Not now. Not ever again.

That night refused to release me into sleep. Whether it was the burning in my wrist or the quiet collapse happening in my chest, rest wouldnt come. I shifted endlessly beneath the covers, sweat clinging to my skin, begging for unconsciousness. It took hours before exhaustion finally dragged me under.

At dawn, rough hands shook me awake.

I groaned and tried to swat him away, but Rocco only laughed softly and leaned down, brushing a quick kiss across my lips.

The lingering fog vanished instantly. Anger flared so sharply I almost shoved him awayalmost slapped himbut I stopped myself at the last second.

Good morning, he said lightly. Did my sleepy little star finally wake up?

I turned my head aside and wiped my mouth with clear irritation.

Its the weekend, I muttered as I pushed myself upright. Would it kill you to let me sleep?

His teasing expression dissolved into concern. You were burning up last night. You didnt even notice. Get dressedwere going to see a doctor.

I studied his face. The worry was real, etched deep between his brows. But I couldnt tell anymore if it was meant for me or simply the role he was used to playing.

I didnt argue. I followed him anyway.

In the clinic corridor, fate intervened.

We nearly ran straight into Antonella.

She was favoring one foot, moving carefully, her expression pinched with discomfort. The moment Rocco saw her, his entire demeanor shifted.

The man who had been hovering over me moments earlier didnt spare me a glance as he hurried to her side, one arm instantly supporting her weight.

What happened? he asked, urgency threading his voice.

Antonellas eyes flicked past himto meand she offered a faint, almost apologetic smile. Just twisted my ankle. What a coincidence. Youre here too?

Rocco hesitated for the briefest second, then turned toward me. The look on his facecontrolled, composed, faintly guiltywas one I knew far too well. It always surfaced when Antonella did.

Yeah, he said quickly. A friends kid sister had a fever. I brought her in.

I felt nothing. No shock. No anger. Just a dull acceptance. To the outside world, I had always been thatsomeone elses sister. A detail. A secret.

Antonella nodded politely. You should take care of her. Ill be fine. I can head over there myself. She gestured toward another section of the clinic.

Rocco didnt even hesitate. He bent down and lifted Antonella into his arms with effortless care. Ill carry you. Sofia, wait here.

I watched them move away together, something hollow spreading through my chest. Maybe it was the fever weakening my body. Maybe it was the sight of him prioritizing her without a second thought. My legs trembled, and I leaned against the wall to steady myself.

He never looked back.

It didnt matter that I was sick. It didnt matter that I was standing there alone. In that moment, nothing about me seemed to matter at all.

Rocco wore perfection welluntil Antonella appeared. Then everything he tried to hide spilled through the cracks. And he didnt even realize it.

I forced a thin, bitter smile and turned toward the examination room on my own.

The results were immediate. The thermometer blinked an alarming number41.3C. The burn on my wrist had worsened, infected and inflamed, aggravated by stress and neglect. On top of that, a viral fever had set in. The doctor prescribed boiled medicinal herbs and a bitter infusion.

Out of habit, my fingers reached for my phone.

Then I stopped.

Habit was dangerous. Habit was how Id stayed too long.

A quiet laugh escaped me as I slipped the phone back into my bag. Carrying the medicine alone, I headed to the patient loungeno escort, no hand to guide me, no one to lean on.

And for the first time, I didnt ask for one.

The hours crawled by as I forced myself to finish the bitter herbal brew and thick medicinal infusion the clinic had prescribed. Each swallow felt heavier than the last. The room tilted every time I shifted my weight, dizziness rolling through me in waves. More than once, I had to clutch the cool edge of the marble counter to keep myself upright, my knuckles whitening as I fought the weakness.

I reached for my phone, meaning to call Roccobut my chest tightened the moment the screen lit up. No messages. No missed calls. Not even a careless Are you home? or Rest well. Nothing.

Disappointment settled deep in my stomach.

After a long breath, I dialed his number anyway, schooling my voice into something steady. Rocco, Im still at the clinic, I said evenly.

There was a brief silence, just long enough to make my pulse jump. When he finally spoke, his words stumbled slightly. I I meant to go back and get you. After I took Antonella home. But she didnt feel wellher stomach started acting up.

He took her home.

Before I could respond, a bright, overly cheerful voice rang out behind him. Sir, your lunch is ready. Please enjoy your meal.

Rocco sucked in a breath. I heard fabric shift, the faint sound of him covering the receiverbut it didnt matter. The damage was done. Cutlery clinked faintly in the background, the sound far too clear. Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. For a moment, he didnt speak at all, as if realizing too late that the lie had unraveled.

Its alright, I said quietly, my tone distant even to my own ears. I can get home by myself.

I wasnt sure whether I was trying to comfort himor convince myself. The words felt hollow as they left my mouth, scraping against the ache in my chest.

I was about to end the call when his voice came again, low and hurried. Sofia just go home first. Ill explain everything later.

Explain what, exactly? Another excuse carefully stitched together? Another story meant to keep me believing in something that no longer existed?

I hung up without replying and arranged for one of the familys private drivers to take me back. Night settled over the city soon afterbut Rocco never returned.

Sleep wouldnt come. The distant roar of traffic and the constant thrum of the city outside kept my mind restless. From the window, fireworks erupted across the skyline, brilliant flashes of color tearing through the dark. Someones celebration, I guessed bitterly. Someones grand gesture. My lips curved into a faint, sour smile.

Unable to drown out the noise, I picked up my tablet and distracted myself by sketching custom bridal gowns for a clientclean lines, careful details, nothing left to chance. As I worked, my finger brushed the messaging app by accident, opening a recent post from Antonella.

The image stole my breath.

Fireworks bloomed across a velvet-black sky, captured at the perfect moment. Beneath it was a caption steeped in emotion:

After being gone for so long, I finally came home. And tonight, the fireworks welcome me.

I stared at the screen longer than I should have, my thoughts spiraling downward. When I tried to close the app, I realized something elseRoccos account was still logged in on my tablet.

I didnt want to see more. Didnt want proof. Didnt want to witness whatever intimacy lingered between them. Exhaling sharply, I logged out and set the tablet aside, refusing to let myself fall deeper into it.

By morning, I felt calmeremptier, but steadier. At the office, my manager handed me my approved resignation letter. Her expression carried pride mixed with regret as I explained my reason for leaving: a bond marriage arranged between families, one that would take me out of the city.

Ill miss you, Sofia, she said softly. Youve always been one of my strongest.

I didnt trust my voice, so I pulled her into a tight embrace instead, murmuring my thanks for everything shed taught me over the years.

After the paperwork was finalized, my colleagues insisted on a farewell lunch to mark my engagement. I didnt argue. I reserved a private table at one of Roccos preferred restaurantsa discreet place often used by men in our world for quiet meetings. It was familiar. Too familiar.

Midway through the meal, I excused myself to the restroomand nearly collided with Antonella in the hallway.

Her smile was effortless, radiant. Sofia? I didnt expect to see you here. She laughed lightly. This is actually the first place Rocco brought me after my coming-of-age ceremony. Weve eaten here more times than I can count.

I returned a polite smile, controlled and distant, and attempted to pass her.

She stepped slightly into my path. Ohby the way, she added, tilting her head. I noticed something last time. Rocco always rinses the shrimp before peeling it for you, right? And you dont like spicy food either?

I stopped.

I did like spicy food. Always had. Yet Rocco had rinsed the shrimp every time, insisting it was healthier, urging me to avoid heat and strong flavors. Id believed it was care. Consideration.

Standing there, facing Antonella, the truth finally settled into place.

The person he had always been protecting, adjusting for, worrying aboutit had never been me.

It had been her.

Her head angled to the side, eyes narrowing with sharp, deliberate interestas though she were dissecting my face piece by piece, searching for something she already suspected.

Ive wanted to mention this since the first time we crossed paths, she said slowly, a lazy smirk curling her lips. Has anyone ever told you how alike we look, little sister?

The words struck like a gunshot.

My breath hitched, and before I could stop myself, my gaze slid to the mirrored wall beside us. The reflection was merciless. Dark hair. Similar eyes. Even the slope of her jaw echoed mine. At a glance, the resemblance was undeniable.

Shame surged hot and fast, tangled with fury. I had always known where I stood in Roccos lifenever the chosen woman, only the one who filled the space temporarily. But this this realization was something else entirely. I hadnt just been a substitute. Id been molded. Polished. Shaped to resemble the woman he truly wanted.

The understanding cut deeper than any insult ever could.

Under her satisfied stare, my composure finally cracked. The restraint Id spent years perfecting shattered, replaced by a restless, bitter energy that crawled under my skin. I couldnt stay there another second. Swallowing hard, I turned abruptly and walked away before she could say another word.

Back in the private dining room, the noise and warmth slowly thawed the chill gripping my veins. My colleagues laughter, their easy conversations, the way they treated me like nothing had changedit grounded me. For a moment, I almost managed to forget her words.

Almost.

The door flew open with a violent slam.

Conversation died instantly.

Rocco stood at the entrance, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed on me. He froze for a heartbeat, something dark and volatile flickering across his face. Then his hands clenched, and he barked my name, sharp and commanding, ordering me out into the hallway.

Unease crawled up my spine, but I followed.

The corridor was dim and cold, the air tight with tension. I barely had time to register the shift before pain exploded across my cheek.

The sound echoed.

It was the first time he had ever laid a hand on me.

Shock rooted me in place. My face burned as I stared at him, waitinghopingfor regret to surface. It never did. His expression was carved from anger alone.

Why did you go after Antonella? he demanded, voice low and coiled. You knew she was injured. I told you Id explain everything once we got backbut you couldnt wait, could you?

Each word cut almost as sharply as the slap.

Movement caught my attention. Antonella appeared at the far end of the corridor, limping deliberately, her clothes rumpled, a stain blooming across her blouse like part of a carefully staged performance. I opened my mouth to speak, but she stumbled suddenly, gasping loud enough to draw attention.

Rocco moved instantly.

He brushed past me and caught her, lifting her into his arms with practiced ease. The gentleness in his touch made my chest tighten painfully. His voice softened when he spoke to her, stripped of all the fury hed aimed at me.

I said Id bring you over so she could apologize, he murmured. Why did you leave?

Antonella shook her head, tears shimmering in her eyes, though her tone was carefully mild. Its nothing. She didnt mean it. Please dont be angry, she said softly, playing the peacemaker.

Then her gaze flicked to me, false concern layered thick in her eyes. If your fianc hears about this, it could cause problems. It might even disrupt the alliance.

At the mention of my brotherthe one who had negotiated my marriage like a contractRoccos jaw tightened. But the hesitation lasted only a moment.

Shes under my authority, he said coldly. If shes crossed a line, its my responsibility to correct her.

A humorless laugh slipped from my throat. Correct me? I said bitterly. Tell mewhat crime have I committed? In this life, in business, judgment comes after evidence. And yet you sentenced me without a single fact. Is this how you run your empire?

His fists curled tighter. There are no cameras in that hallway, he snapped. You knew that. You thought youd get away with it.

I stared at him, stunned by his certainty. No cameras? I scoffed. Then on what basis are you so sure it was me?

His eyes flashed. Because Antonella wouldnt lie. Shes not that kind of woman.

And I am? My voice shook despite myself.

Seven years. Seven years of loyalty, of standing beside him through bloodshed, negotiations, and nights meant only for us. And yet, the moment Antonellas tears appeared, every one of those years was erased. One accusation outweighed everything I had given him.

I saw then that nothing I said would matter.

I turned away. Believe whatever story you want, I said flatly.

He shouted after me, ordering me to stopbut I didnt turn back. My cheek still throbbed, the sting a brutal reminder of where I truly ranked in his world.

Going back to the table wasnt an option. I wouldnt poison the night for my colleagues, who had shown me nothing but kindness. Instead, I went to the front desk, settled the bill in full, and sent a short message to the group:

Something urgent came up. Enjoy the food and drinksthis ones on me.

Then I left.

Each step felt heavy, the weight of the night pressing down on my shoulders, my heart burning with exhaustionand a quiet, dangerous fury.

By the time I dragged myself back to the penthouse Id shared with Rocco for seven relentless years, my body felt heavier than the concrete beneath the building. I stopped just inside the doorway, staring at the space that had once been my refuge. Polished marble floors. Floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking a city ruled by men like him. Bespoke furniture commissioned from designers who catered to crime lords and kings alike. It had all once looked like a dream. Now it felt like a carefully staged lie.

There was a time Id been convinced this place would be my forever. That Id grow old here, standing beside him, believing I was lovedprotectedchosen. That certainty tasted bitter now, like a fantasy Id willingly swallowed despite knowing better. Everywhere I looked, memories waited to ambush me. The couch where wed argued in whispers during syndicate calls. The kitchen island where hed leaned against me after long nights of bloodstained negotiations. Moments that should have been comforting instead sliced straight through me.

The truth had always been there, buried beneath denial: this penthouse was never truly mine. It had been built for someone elsedesigned around an image Rocco carried in his head, not the woman standing in it now. I had spent years trying to fit into a life that was never meant to hold me. Staying any longer would only be another form of punishment I didnt deserve.

So I chose to leave.

That choice hadnt been born overnight. Accepting a bond marriage with a neighboring familya strategic alliance between syndicatesmeant wiping the slate clean. A new city. A new name spoken with respect, not secrecy. Still, Id hesitated. A foolish part of me had waited, hoping Rocco would give me a reason to stay. One word. One action. Proof that I mattered.

Instead, he walked away without looking backchoosing Antonella as if Id never existed at all.

That night, I found a battered cardboard box and began the slow, painful work of dismantling seven years of shared life. I folded away the custom slippers stitched with a moon-and-star emblem hed once claimed symbolized us. I packed the matching mugs that fit perfectly in our hands, the discreet tracking charms that buzzed softly whenever we were close. Hed said they were to keep me safeto remind me he was always near.

Back then, Id believed him.

Those objects had once made me feel untouchable. Secure. As if nothingnot rival families, not bullets, not betrayalcould sever what we had. Now they were nothing more than props from a story that had never been real.

The photographs came next. Framed moments of a life curated for appearancesoverseas trips disguised as business, birthdays celebrated behind guarded doors, mornings spent tangled in sheets while the city slept below us. In every picture, we smiled. We looked invincible. Looking at them now turned my stomach. Each image was proof of how much Id ignored, how many warning signs Id explained away in the name of love.

It stopped mattering after that. Rocco didnt come back. Days turned into weeks, and his absence became routine. I drowned myself in workdesigning gowns for powerful women who married into crime families, preparing for my own bond ceremony like it was just another contract to be finalized. During the day, I functioned. At night, I returned to the penthouse and continued erasing us, item by item, until the grief hollowed me out and left nothing but numbness behind.

Eventually, even that pain dulled.

I stripped the place bare. Anything that had once carried warmth or personality disappeared. I replaced furniture Id chosen myself with stark piecesblack, white, sharp lines, no softness. The penthouse returned to what it had been when I first arrived: pristine, cold, and empty. Exactly how it had always belonged to him.

On my last night there, I almost called him.

Maybe I wanted closure. Maybe I wanted him to fight for me. To stop me. To prove I hadnt imagined everything. I dialed his number more than once, my finger hovering as my heart poundedbut I never pressed the button.

Then his message came through.

If you havent acknowledged your mistake and apologized to Antonella, theres nothing left for us to talk about.

I stared at the screen, a hollow laugh tearing out of me. Seven years. Seven years of loyalty, silence, sacrificeand he still saw me as the one at fault. He never asked for my side. Never questioned his own actions. Never once wondered what hed broken.

If that was all I was to him, then there truly was nothing left to say.

At dawn, I closed my suitcase and walked out for the final time. As the door shut behind me, something unexpected surged through my chestrelief. Not enough to erase the hurt, but strong enough to remind me Id survived.

At the airport, while waiting to board, my phone buzzed repeatedly. Birthday notifications. Id forgotten the date entirely. In past years, Rocco had always been firstlavish surprises, grand gestures meant to remind me I was treasured.

This year, his silence said everything.

The rest of the messages were sincerefriends wishing me luck, strength, prosperity in my upcoming alliance. I replied to each, carefully, then turned my phone face down.

As the plane lifted off, sunrise spilling gold across the horizon, I closed my eyes and made myself a promise.

I would be happy again.

And this time, my happiness wouldnt be tied to any man. Not Rocco. Not Antonella. Not anyone who thought they had the right to define my worth.

This time, I would build my life with my own handsby my own rules.