They Shaved My Head on My Wedding Night, and My Donna Mother-in-Law Went on a Rampage Chapter 08

They Shaved My Head on My Wedding Night, and My Donna Mother-in-Law Went on a Rampage Chapter 08

My father’s meeting ended the following day.

He’d expected to arrive in time to celebrate my wedding, but the gift in his hands fell to the floor the

moment he saw me.

He didn’t ask what would happen to the ceremony or what the Vitale family intended to do.

His hand trembled as he touched my cheek.

“Alessia, does it hurt?”

That one question brought back every ounce of pain I’d held in all night.

My father wiped away his tears, then turned to Serafina and inclined his head in gratitude.

“Donna, thank you for protecting Alessia.”

Serafina reacted as though the title had burned her. Her expression tightened.

“You don’t have to thank me. The Vitale family failed to protect her, so we owe her an apology.”

My father shook his head.

“The family isn’t to blame. One person chose to be cruel.”

Serafina was silent for several seconds before nodding,

“You have my word. The person who did this won’t get away with it.”

By that afternoon, news of the canceled wedding had spread throughout the East Coast underworld.

Ginevra’s friends tried to control the narrative through anonymous accounts.

[A certain bride had a complete meltdown the night before her wedding, caused a scene and called off the ceremony.]

[A harmless prank landed a bridesmaid in the hospital after the groom’s powerful mother attacked

her.]

[Rich people are terrifying.]

Less than half an hour later, Matteo posted a statement from his verified account.

Her parents arrived at my father’s home with an attorney, claiming they wanted to apologize.

Serafina intercepted them in the downstairs foyer before they could reach me.

She wore a black suit, her hair swept into a neat updo and her makeup understated.

She looked nothing like the woman who had charged into the hotel in a silk robe the night before.

One of Ginevra’s parents spoke through barely restrained anger.

“Ms. Vitale, she’s still young. She didn’t know any better. We’re willing to compensate Alessia.

Serafina opened the folder in her hands.

“First, Ginevra is twenty-four years old. She isn’t a child.”

“Second, financial compensation addresses civil liability. It doesn’t erase potential criminal

consequences.”

“Third, Alessia isn’t willing to enter into a private settlement at this time.”

Their expressions darkened.

“Why take this all the way? If Ginevra ends up with a criminal record, what kind of future will she

have?”

Serafina looked up.

“Did she consider Alessia’s future before she did this?”

They had no answer.

One of them still refused to back down.

“Hair grows back! Are you determined to ruin our daughter’s life over this?”

Serafina closed the folder.

“When your daughter destroyed someone else’s dignity, you said hair would grow back.”

“Now that she has to face the consequences, you claim her entire life will be ruined.”

“Does hypocrisy run in your family?”

Their faces darkened with rage.

Serafina turned to her assistant.

“Show them out.

After they were escorted away, I stepped into view from beside the staircase.

“Mom.”

Serafina froze.

It was the first time I’d called her that, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.

Her eyes softened.

I walked over and gently wrapped my arms around her.

“Thank you.”

Serafina’s entire body stiffened.

After a long moment, she awkwardly patted my back.

“Don’t thank me. We’re family. You don’t have to thank me.”

She dabbed at the corner of her eye and muttered, “It’s too windy.”

Don Ettore smiled beside her.

“Yes. Very windy.”

She immediately glared at him.

“What are you smiling at?”

Don Ettore suppressed his smile and murmured, “Nothing. I was just thinking that my Serafina (s

the most beautiful woman here today.”

Serafina’s ears turned pink.

After the ceremony, the photographer gathered everyone for a group picture.

Serafina was standing well away from the rest of us, so I walked over and pulled her to my side.

She stiffened slightly.

“I’m not photogenic.”

Don Ettore immediately called her bluff.

“When she was young and arguing cases, television crews used to film her. She complained that the cameras never captured her full courtroom presence.”

Serafina stepped on his foot.

Don Ettore sucked in a sharp breath, and I burst out laughing.

When the photographer pressed the shutter, the ocean breeze lifted my veil.

Matteo held my hand.

My father stood to my left.

Serafina stood to my right, the corner of her mouth curved upward even as she tried to look stern.

I later placed that photograph on my nightstand.

Whenever I looked at it, I remembered the door being kicked open on the night before our wedding.

I remembered Serafina charging inside in her black coat, like a blaze no one could contain.