The Runaway Don’s Bride Chapter 01

The Runaway Don’s Bride Chapter 01

[Valentina’s POV]

When my fiancé went to pick out wedding jewelry for me, he had the butler bring both boxes to the living room together.

And still let my sister choose first.

One was a pink diamond necklace he’d won at auction for an obscene price, shipped across three countries before it arrived in Naples. The other was a cheap black brooch—just a freebie that came with the necklace.

For the first time, I pointed at the necklace before anyone else could.

“This once, can I pick first?”

Dominic ruffled my hair.

“Vittoria’s been competitive since we were kids. If something isn’t offered to her first, she’d rather not have it at all. You’re not picky—whatever’s left won’t be bad.”

I didn’t respond. Just felt that familiar sinking in my chest.

For twenty years, within the social hierarchy that stretched between the Contini family and the Mazzarella family, I had always stood behind my sister, Vittoria Contini.

Summer dinners at the Contini estate—when the watermelon was sliced, Dominic would serve Vittoria first. She’d take the center piece, seedless, the sweetest one. The rinds and edges got pushed to me.

“This piece is ripe too. You’ll manage.” As if it were a perfectly fair distribution.

A new Mercedes parked in the garage. New car, and Vittoria naturally claimed the passenger seat. Dominic glanced at the back.

“The rear’s a little cramped, but pick whichever side you want.”

Over time, that “whichever you want” became my designated place.

Even in love.

He loved Vittoria. But she chose to chase academia and her ambitions. Dominic was left behind at the center of the Mazzarella family’s power, and only then did he turn around and choose me.

I looked at that leftover black brooch, reached out, and gently pushed it toward Vittoria.

“Take them both. I’m not choosing.”

I didn’t want to pick from what was left behind. Not anymore.

Dominic sighed, exasperated.

“Valentina, a freebie like that isn’t worthy of your sister.”

I looked at him, steady and serious.

“Then why is it worthy of me?”

Dominic froze. Then he looked at me and smiled.

“When you were little, you were so dark and scrawny. Everyone said you looked like her little maid tagging along behind her.”

“Pink diamonds are too flashy. You can’t pull it off.”

Little maid.

Vittoria and I are twins. But I’ve never measured up to her in a single way.

At school, she was always first. I’d stay up until dawn and still land somewhere in the middle of the pack. Mamma would tap my forehead with her fingertip at the dinner table and sigh.

“Born at the same time, and you turned out like this. Forget it—the Contini family has your sister, and that’s enough.”

I followed behind Vittoria. Carried her bag. Memorized the schedules she forgot.

They called me her maid for ten years.

I’d told Dominic explicitly that I hated that nickname. Every time, he’d nod seriously and say, “Okay, I won’t say it again.”

But the moment Vittoria was in the room, that ridiculous word would slip right out of his mouth.

This time, I looked Dominic straight in the eye.

“Let’s break up.”

Dominic stared at me. Then he laughed, the way you’d humor a child throwing a tantrum.

“You don’t like the brooch? We can go pick something else. You can have whatever you want.”

Vittoria pushed the pink diamond necklace toward me.

“Valentina, take the necklace. It’s yours.” Her tone was gentle. “Don’t be difficult.”

But Dominic stopped her.

“I chose that one specifically for you. Giving it to Valentina would be a waste.”

He put his arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the door.

But the moment we reached Galleria Umberto I, Vittoria wanted to look at a new perfume.

Dominic nodded immediately. “Then let’s stop for you first. No rush.”

Again.

Vittoria found two perfumes she liked at the counter. Dominic noticed her indecision.

“Get both. Give the other one to Valentina—and whenever you want it back, just swap with her.”

He paid and handed me the second bottle.

“There. Your gift’s sorted too. Your sister’s taste is never wrong.”

I didn’t take it.

I looked at that bottle of perfume and almost laughed.

“I’ll have my things moved out of your estate today.”

Dominic’s hand hung frozen in midair. For the first time, something close to seriousness flickered across his face.

“Valentina. Stop this.”

That night, he called my parents over.

The first thing Mamma said when she saw me was a hiss barely containing her fury.

“You want to break up again? Have you lost your mind?”

“You’re plain-looking, average at everything. If Vittoria weren’t busy with her own career, do you think the Mazzarella family’s Donna position would ever fall to you?”

I’d heard these words too many times. Not a single syllable was new.

Then Dominic stepped in front of me, his voice warm and measured.

“Please don’t speak to her that way. Valentina is wonderful. She doesn’t need to be compared.”

Mamma switched tones instantly, smiling at him.

“See? Look how much Don Mazzarella adores you! If you dare break up with him, you’re no longer a Principessa of the Contini family.”

Right. What a good man. As if I should be eternally grateful.

I sniffled.

“Fine.”

Everyone exhaled, relieved—as if the world had finally tilted back to its proper order.

I walked into my room.

I called my friend Clara. Tears slid down my face without a sound.

“Can I come in as a partner at your pottery studio?”

Careful hesitation on the other end.

“Aren’t you getting married? Would the Contini family be okay with that?”

I looked out at the pitch-black night beyond my window. A small laugh escaped me.

“Clara. What do you think about me running away from my own wedding? One week from now.”