My Family Faked Mom’s Death to Stop My Wedding—My Adopted Sister Had My Fiancé’s Baby

Our family had an old rule: each parent and biological child had one absolute veto in their lifetime. Once someone used it, any major family decision had to be put off for a full year. Dante and I had been engaged for five years. In the first four, my parents and two older brothers had each used their veto, postponing our wedding four times. Dad said I was too young. Mom said marriage was a vow before God, and I needed to be sure. Then each of my brothers took a turn stopping me. In the fifth year, no one could object anymore. But three days before the wedding, my mother died in a car crash. Dad said he couldn't watch me get married so soon after losing her. She'd been looking forward to helping me choose my wedding dress. The least I could do was wait another year for her. So the fifth wedding was canceled too. I spent the whole night beside my mother's coffin. The next day, I was outside the study when I heard my oldest brother, Matteo, sigh. "Dad, Mom, the two of us—we've used all four vetoes. Having Mom fake her death was the only way to buy another year." My other brother, Alessandro, added, "Grace just had the baby. Once she's recovered, we'll figure out how to bring Mom back." Then I heard Dante. "Keep it from her for now. And she absolutely cannot find out Grace and I got married in Bermuda. She's already waited five years. One more won't hurt." The mother I'd spent all night mourning beside a coffin wasn't dead at all. She was in Bermuda, looking after my adopted sister and the baby she'd just had with my fiancé. I stood outside that door for a long time. Then I took off the engagement ring I'd worn for five years. If my whole family was so determined to keep me from marrying Dante, they wouldn't need to veto it this time. I'd cancel the wedding myself. ... I didn't open the study door. They were still talking inside. Matteo lowered his voice. "She didn't sleep at all last night. What if something really happens to her?" Dad sighed. "Every other time we canceled the wedding, she cried for a few days and got over it." "I'll make her feel better," Dante said casually. "Once Grace is doing better, we'll work out how to bring Mom home." Dad's voice softened. "Grace's parents entrusted her to us. All she wants now is to keep her family together. We have to help her." Matteo sighed too. "She's been afraid of going to the hospital alone since she was little. The night her mother died, she waited outside the hospital by herself until morning." "Serafina's always saying we favor Grace. Now that she's had a taste of losing her mother, maybe she'll understand why Grace needs us so much." I stood outside the door, my fingertips growing cold. Grace came to live with us when she was twelve. Her father and mine had been best friends since boarding school. He died at the scene of a car crash while saving my father's life. Two years later, her mother died of breast cancer. Before she died, she asked my parents to take care of Grace. They didn't hesitate. They went through the legal process and adopted her. After that, Dad said we owed her a life. Mom loved her like her own daughter. Whenever my brothers had something nice, Grace was always the first person they thought of. The whole family started preparing for her birthday a month in advance. When she was sick, Matteo would cancel a meeting across the Atlantic to stay with her all night. If she texted in the middle of the night saying the thunder scared her, Alessandro would drive two hours back from Long Island to keep her company. I'd never thought there was anything wrong with any of it. I'd even believed the wedding veto rule was meant to protect me. I wanted to marry Dante, but I also wanted my parents' and brothers' sincere blessing. That was why I kept agreeing to wait another year. I'd even taken Dante's hand and told him, "She's my sister now. We should both look out for her." I just hadn't realized that, in the end, even my fiancé and my wedding would become things they could give her to make up for what she'd lost. Apparently, they thought canceling five weddings—even making me believe my mother was dead—would only make me cry for a few days. Then I'd go back to doing what they said. I turned and went back to the chapel. My mother's photograph stood centered above the coffin. The day she "died," Dad said the crash had left her body so badly damaged that the funeral home recommended a closed casket. I cried and begged to see her one last time. Matteo refused to let me through the door. "Mom always cared about looking her best. She wouldn't want you to remember her like that, Serafina." So I spent the whole night crying beside a coffin I wasn't allowed to open. Now I knew she'd never been inside that cold coffin. She was in Bermuda, taking care of Grace and Dante's baby. "Serafina." I hadn't heard Dante come up behind me. He draped his suit jacket over my shoulders, then crouched down and took my cold hands in his. "Don't do this to yourself. It would break your mother's heart to see you like this." He looked so sincere I wanted to laugh. Five years ago, he'd gone down on one knee just like this to propose. "Every time they veto it, I'll wait another year. Serafina, you're the only woman I'll ever marry." So when Dad used his veto the first year, I waited. When Mom used hers the second year, I waited. The third year, the fourth—every time I cried so hard I couldn't breathe, Dante held me and said, "Just a little longer. Next year. I'll give you an even better wedding next year." I'd believed him every time. It had all been a lie. Just then, the wedding planner called. "Ms. Castellano, Mr. Whitman says the wedding has been postponed. He'd like to keep the flowers and cake rather than cancel them, and move everything to this location. Would that be all right?" She gave me the address of an estate in Bermuda. My grip tightened around my phone. Grace and the baby were in Bermuda. Dante and I had spent three months choosing the white roses that were supposed to line our wedding aisle. He'd said he wanted me to walk toward him surrounded by flowers. Our wedding was gone. But he and Grace would still get to use the flowers. I answered quietly. "Cancel the flowers and the cake. Cancel everything that can still be canceled." After hanging up, I called Vincent Barone, the lawyer who managed my grandmother's estate and had always handled my personal affairs. "Vincent, cancel the wedding and prepare to revoke Dante's authorization to use my assets. Put the house on the Upper East Side up for sale too. Don't tell my family yet. I'll let you know when to send the formal notices." He paused. "Fina, what about Mr. Whitman—" "You don't need to ask him." I looked up through the warm candlelight. Dante stood in front of my mother's photograph, lighting a prayer candle, his head bowed. He looked as grief-stricken as if he were attending a real funeral. My mouth twisted. "The house is in my name. I signed the contracts. I'll handle it."