He Chose His Mistress, So I Chose Me

“Uncle… is that marriage you once planned for me still an option? If it is, then pick me up next week. I’ll say yes—because he postponed our wedding… again… for Elise. I’m done.”

Before he could answer, I hung up. My hands shook as I clutched the lace of my gown, lowering the phone slowly. My wedding had turned into nothing more than a display of pity—my so-called fiancé never even showed up.

When I finally called him, desperate for an explanation, his voice was maddeningly calm, as if he didn’t realize the chaos he’d left me in.

“Babe, I’m sorry,” he said. “Elise has a high fever. I couldn’t just leave her. We can reschedule… maybe next week. Or skip the ceremony and just register—it’s the same thing.”

For twenty years, Dante and I had been the ideal childhood couple. Everyone expected us to wed by twenty-five. But then he went on that cursed cruise, came back broken and missing for months—and brought Elise, the woman who saved him. Feeling indebted, he welcomed her into our lives and promised her happiness… at the cost of mine.

Ninety-nine times, he put her before me. And I’d had enough. I chose to call my uncle and marry someone else. But when Dante discovered I was in love with another, he returned, begging on his knees—but by then, it was far too late.