Chapter 9
Dominic's POV
I watched her kiss another man.
From the plaza, through the chapel's grand windows, I saw everything. The white dress. The flowers. Her smile — radiant, free, directed at him.
She never smiled at me like that. Not in three years. And I was only realizing it now.
The bells of St. Claren's rang out across the plaza — loud, triumphant, relentless. Each toll drove the truth deeper into my chest like a nail.
She was married. To someone else. And it was my fault.
I stood there until the last guest filed out. Until the plaza emptied. Until the evening turned cold and the chapel lights dimmed.
Marcus found me at midnight, sitting on a bench across from the cathedral — my cathedral. The one that should've held my wedding, before everything fell apart.
"Dominic." He sat beside me. "Come on. Let's go."
"I lost her," I said. The words felt foreign, like admitting something I'd been denying for months. "She's gone."
Marcus was quiet for a long time. Then: "Yeah, man. She is."
...
The next morning, I went looking for Vivienne.
Not because I wanted her. God, no. But because I needed answers. I needed to understand the full scope of what she'd done — and what it had cost me.
But Vivienne was gone.
Her apartment — cleared out. Her phone — disconnected. The bank account I'd idiotically let her access — emptied.
I stood in her bare living room, staring at the indentations in the carpet where furniture used to be.
"She left the country yesterday," Marcus said from the doorway, phone in hand. "My guy at the airport confirmed it. One-way ticket. Destination unknown."
Of course she ran. She'd played her game, lost her prizes, and vanished before anyone could hold her accountable.
I sank onto the floor.
Three years with Serena — thrown away for a woman who never existed. The Vivienne I thought I was protecting was a character, a performance designed to make me feel needed, important, noble.
And I'd fallen for every second of it.
"You know what kills me?" I said quietly.
Marcus leaned against the wall. "What?"
"Serena didn't even fight for me." I ran a hand over my face. "She found out, and instead of screaming or crying or demanding answers — she just... left. Made a plan. Moved on."
"That's because she's stronger than you gave her credit for," Marcus said.
He was right. I'd spent three years treating Serena like she was guaranteed — like no matter what I did, she'd always be there. I'd taken her steadiness for passivity, her patience for weakness.
And now she was Dante Valenti's wife. Living in a world I couldn't touch. Guarded by a man who'd burn cities for her.
While I sat on an empty floor in my ex-mistress's abandoned apartment with nothing.
"What do I do now?" I whispered.
Marcus extended a hand. "You start over. And you don't make the same mistake twice."
I took his hand and stood. But even as I did, I knew — some mistakes don't get second chances.
Serena Romano was one of them.
I watched her kiss another man.
From the plaza, through the chapel's grand windows, I saw everything. The white dress. The flowers. Her smile — radiant, free, directed at him.
She never smiled at me like that. Not in three years. And I was only realizing it now.
The bells of St. Claren's rang out across the plaza — loud, triumphant, relentless. Each toll drove the truth deeper into my chest like a nail.
She was married. To someone else. And it was my fault.
I stood there until the last guest filed out. Until the plaza emptied. Until the evening turned cold and the chapel lights dimmed.
Marcus found me at midnight, sitting on a bench across from the cathedral — my cathedral. The one that should've held my wedding, before everything fell apart.
"Dominic." He sat beside me. "Come on. Let's go."
"I lost her," I said. The words felt foreign, like admitting something I'd been denying for months. "She's gone."
Marcus was quiet for a long time. Then: "Yeah, man. She is."
...
The next morning, I went looking for Vivienne.
Not because I wanted her. God, no. But because I needed answers. I needed to understand the full scope of what she'd done — and what it had cost me.
But Vivienne was gone.
Her apartment — cleared out. Her phone — disconnected. The bank account I'd idiotically let her access — emptied.
I stood in her bare living room, staring at the indentations in the carpet where furniture used to be.
"She left the country yesterday," Marcus said from the doorway, phone in hand. "My guy at the airport confirmed it. One-way ticket. Destination unknown."
Of course she ran. She'd played her game, lost her prizes, and vanished before anyone could hold her accountable.
I sank onto the floor.
Three years with Serena — thrown away for a woman who never existed. The Vivienne I thought I was protecting was a character, a performance designed to make me feel needed, important, noble.
And I'd fallen for every second of it.
"You know what kills me?" I said quietly.
Marcus leaned against the wall. "What?"
"Serena didn't even fight for me." I ran a hand over my face. "She found out, and instead of screaming or crying or demanding answers — she just... left. Made a plan. Moved on."
"That's because she's stronger than you gave her credit for," Marcus said.
He was right. I'd spent three years treating Serena like she was guaranteed — like no matter what I did, she'd always be there. I'd taken her steadiness for passivity, her patience for weakness.
And now she was Dante Valenti's wife. Living in a world I couldn't touch. Guarded by a man who'd burn cities for her.
While I sat on an empty floor in my ex-mistress's abandoned apartment with nothing.
"What do I do now?" I whispered.
Marcus extended a hand. "You start over. And you don't make the same mistake twice."
I took his hand and stood. But even as I did, I knew — some mistakes don't get second chances.
Serena Romano was one of them.