Chapter 3When Even My Wedding Became About My Sister, I Called It Off

My birthday—and Viola's—fell three days before the wedding.

In the middle of the table sat a single almond cake. Matteo had ordered it.

My sister loved almonds. I was severely allergic to them. When my mother saw I hadn't touched the cake, she said cutting back on sweets would help me look better in a wedding dress.

Matteo placed the party hat on Viola's head.

"You make a wish first."

I watched him light the candles for her, then suddenly called his name. "You remembered to bring two sets of jewelry. Why only one cake?"

He paused.

"Hasn't it always been this way?"

"So I don't get a birthday, ever. Is that it?"

My mother put down her napkin.

"Your sister has barely slept these past few days. It's just one cake. Do you have to fight over it?"

"I only wanted to make a wish too."

My mother acted as if she hadn't understood. "Aren't you about to marry Matteo? What more could you want?"

Matteo added, "Don't keep everyone waiting."

Suddenly, I couldn't speak.

When a contract went wrong, they knew to come to me. When my sister's speech wasn't written in time, they knew to come to me.

But the moment I wanted something I didn't have to work for, I was being difficult.

Viola closed her eyes, and everyone started singing "Happy Birthday" to her.

By the time it was my turn, the candles had burned down. My mother was already telling the staff to pass the cake around.

"Next year we'll get you your own."

For more than twenty years, the answer had always been next year.

I didn't want to ask anymore. I just didn't understand. When they didn't need anything from me, was I not worth loving?

My father soon changed the subject to the wedding.

"A lot of our partners will be there. It's the perfect chance for Viola to present the new project."

Matteo nodded at once.

"Cut the couple's slideshow. Give her that time slot."

I had made that slideshow. I had searched through more than twenty years of photographs and barely found a few of just the two of us.

Marisa, the wedding planner, asked which one I most wanted to show. I chose the one from when he first proposed to me. He was looking at the camera. I was looking at him.

When I cropped my sister out, I was afraid he would see how petty I was.

Now he thought even those few minutes could be hers.

Viola smiled. "You don't have to. Don't let it get in the way of Elena's wedding."

"How would it? I'll arrange everything for you."

They started discussing the display and the speaking order. I sat beside them like I was just another guest.

It was just as well. This wedding wasn't going to have a bride.

I said I had a headache and went upstairs to pack.

Downstairs was still buzzing with activity. They were waiting for the council to announce the Bellani family's new chief negotiator.

I took my license out of the drawer, along with my design sketches and the share certificates my grandmother had left me.

The year I came of age, my father had me sign a proxy giving him my voting rights.

"We're family. It doesn't matter whose name is on it."

I believed him, just as I'd always believed they would remember that I was the one who had done the work whenever I handed over a finished document.

Now I didn't want to wait for them to remember anymore.

I sent the documents to my own lawyer and asked him to check the procedure for revoking the proxy.

Outside the window, a cheer went up.

Viola had been chosen.

She smiled as she complained. "But the ceremony for my appointment is on the morning of the wedding. None of you can be with me at the most important moment."

I stood behind the door, holding my phone.

Matteo answered at once, "How could we leave you on your own?"