They Gave My Wedding Away Before I Died

While my entire family was helping my adopted sister try on wedding gowns, the doctor told me I had almost no time left. I held my terminal stomach cancer diagnosis and sent one message to the Moretti family group chat. “If I were dying, would any of you miss me?” Three minutes later, my parents replied. “You would lie about having cancer just to ruin Bianca’s wedding?” “Enough. The Moretti family has no daughter who tells lies like this.” My brother called, already irritated. “Bianca’s father died taking a bullet for me. No one will ever walk her down the aisle. She only wants to experience one wedding. Why can’t you let this go?” My childhood sweetheart and fiancé, Adrian Vitale, never answered. He was kneeling in front of Bianca, gently arranging the skirt of my wedding gown. Seven days earlier, my family had decided to give her my wedding. I stood there for a long time before signing the body donation papers. My parents and brother could choose her. My fiancé could choose her too. This time, I would fight for nothing. Chapter 1 “Your family still can’t come?” I shook my head. “They don’t believe I’m sick.” As if on cue, several new messages appeared in the Moretti family group chat. My mother was helping Bianca adjust her veil. My father and Nico stood on either side of her, smiling for the camera. Adrian was kneeling at her feet, carefully arranging the train of my wedding gown. A bitter smile touched my lips. “Besides, they have something more important to do today. They’re helping my sister try on my wedding dress.” The doctor’s expression softened. She did not ask again. She only handed me a small bottle of painkillers. “Elena, this is the last thing we can do to make you more comfortable.” I nodded, my lips too pale to hold a proper smile. “Thank you.” When I left the hospital, the twenty-thousand-dollar transfer from Nico was still sitting unanswered in our chat. "Stop pretending to be sick. Take this as compensation for letting Bianca use your wedding." A month ago, Bianca’s boyfriend had walked out on her before their wedding. She cried in my mother’s arms and said she had no biological father to walk her down the aisle. Now, she would never know what it felt like to be a real bride. So my parents decided to give her the wedding I was supposed to have in three days. They called it borrowing. Bianca and Adrian would only go through the ceremony. There would be no marriage license, so it would not count as a real marriage. Adrian would only stand in as her groom. Afterward, they promised, he and I would have another wedding. A bigger one. A better one. I told them I had cancer. I told them there might not be an afterward for me. Their faces changed immediately. They accused me of lying to compete with Bianca. They said I was cruel, jealous, and willing to say anything to take away the one happy day she had left. But I really was dying. And this was the wedding I had waited seven years for. I declined Nico’s transfer and called Adrian. Once. Twice. On the third call, he finally answered. “Adrian,” I asked quietly, “is our wedding still happening in three days?” He was silent for a moment. Then he sighed. “Elena, we already talked about this. That wedding is for Bianca now.” “She has no family of her own. She only wants to experience it once. Why do you have to turn everything into a fight with her?” My fingers tightened around the phone. So asking for something that belonged to me had become an attack on Bianca. I opened my mouth, but Adrian had already lost his patience. “Think about what you’re doing, Elena.” Then he hung up. His words stayed with me as another wave of pain twisted through my stomach. I fumbled for the bottle and swallowed a painkiller. Before the pain had even eased, my phone rang again. It was the wedding planner. “Miss Moretti, I need your approval for several changes.” “Go ahead.” “Mr. Vitale wants the welcome sign, main screen, and bridal suite changed to Miss Ferraro’s name. She also likes the processional music you chose, so that will remain.” “She tried on your gown today and wants to wear it for the ceremony. Mr. Vitale said that if you mind, he can have another one made for you later.” Later. That word followed me through most of my life. When Bianca first moved into the Moretti estate, my mother gave her my bedroom. “It’s only temporary,” she said. I never got it back. On my twelfth birthday, the piano my father promised me became art supplies for Bianca. He said he would buy the piano the following year. They never thought they were taking anything from me. Everything could be replaced later. And I had always been expected to have a later. “Miss Moretti?” the planner asked carefully. “Under the contract, none of these changes can be made without your authorization.” In the past, I would have refused. I had argued before. Every time, they reminded me that Carlo Ferraro had taken a bullet meant for Nico and left Bianca without a father. The Morettis owed her. Because I was a Moretti too, apparently I owed her as well. In the past, I would have refused. I would have argued until someone listened. But suddenly, I was exhausted. I was dying. Soon, none of this would belong to me anyway. The dress, the flowers, the house, the man waiting at the end of the aisle— She could have all of it. “Change it,” I said. “I won’t need any of it after this anyway.” Chapter 2 When I returned to the Upper East Side townhouse Adrian and I had chosen for after our wedding, the front steps were crowded with dark garment trunks and document cases stamped with the Moretti crest. A card from my mother was clipped to one of them. Bianca has been followed by reporters since the engagement was called off. She’ll stay here for a few days because security is better. Go back to the estate for now. I called my mother. “Elena, perfect timing. The cedar cabinet beside the bridal dressing room is still locked. Bianca’s gown and the family jewelry need to go inside. Send the code to the house manager.” “Why was my access removed?” “Adrian had your access removed,” my mother said. “He was worried you might show up without warning, see Bianca in your wedding gown, and cause another scene.” “Only for a few days. Reporters are watching her everywhere else. After the wedding, everything will go back to normal.” I pressed my thumb to the lock, but nothing happened. Adrian and I had chosen this house together. When I was nineteen, he stood with me on the empty second-floor terrace and said, “This will be our home someday.” We had not even reached the wedding, and I had already lost access to it. My wedding binder, seating cards, silverware samples, and years of things Adrian and I had kept together had been packed into the cases by the door. One was not latched properly. When I bent to close it, a narrow walnut frame slipped out and cracked against the stone step. My mother heard it through the phone. “If it’s broken, let Adrian buy you another one.” Another replacement. When they gave Bianca my bedroom, they bought me a monogrammed Italian leather satchel and expected me to stop crying. When they gave her the piano my father had promised me, they transferred twenty-five thousand dollars into my account. When they forgot my birthday, Nico sent me fifty thousand. Now they had given her my wedding and my future home, and they still believed money could erase what they had done. They were not my enemies. They simply believed that everything I loved came with a price tag. My phone vibrated. Adrian had transferred one hundred thousand dollars to me. "Bianca will only be staying in the townhouse for a few days. Consider this compensation. She’s very fragile right now, so don’t come over and frighten her." I replied with one word. "Okay." He called almost immediately. The relief in his voice was impossible to miss. “I knew you were still the same understanding Elena.” I said nothing. “Once this is over, I’ll give you a much bigger wedding. Anywhere you want. Lake Como, Norway, Iceland—we can stay in a private lodge and watch the northern lights together.” His voice softened. “I’ll make all of this up to you. I promise.” I did not try to tell him again that I had no time left for another wedding. He would only think I was angry. Or jealous. Or trying to punish him. Something fell in the background. Someone said Bianca was breathing too fast and her fingers were going numb. The call ended. I crouched down and reached for the broken frame. There was no photograph inside, only an old key. Beneath it were unevenly engraved words. E & A. Our home someday. Adrian had given it to me when we were sixteen. That winter, my parents took Nico and Bianca to a family gathering in the Hudson Valley. I came down with a high fever. Adrian found out, came back from school, and stayed beside my bed until morning. The next day, he pressed a spare key into my hand. “If no one’s there, come find me. I’ll always leave the door open for you.” I had believed he would be the last person to lock me out. Moments later, pain tore through my abdomen, forcing me to catch the stone column and lower myself onto the steps as nausea surged through me. The family group chat lit up. Nico: Is the private doctor there yet? Father: The medical team is on the way. Mother: I’m sending her medication with the driver. Adrian: I’m with her. In under two minutes, doctors, drivers, and security had been arranged. The Morettis could send a medical team anywhere in New York almost immediately, But they simply never believed that I was sick. A metallic taste rose in my throat. Dark blood stained my palm. I returned to the bedroom that had once belonged to Adrian and me and swallowed another painkiller. Just hold on for two more days, Elena. In two days, you will never be the extra person in this family again. I wondered if they would finally be sad when I was gone. Chapter 3 When I woke the next morning, I went straight back to the hospital. I completed the final paperwork for the donation of my body and signed every form they placed in front of me. By the time I returned to the Moretti estate, it was already late. The house was filled with laughter. My parents, Nico, and Adrian were inside. Wedding schedules, guest lists, and seating charts covered the long table while the hotel manager confirmed arrangements for the next day. My mother sat beside Bianca, choosing champagne glasses for the reception. Her eyes moved over my bloodless face, then dropped to the hospital tape still wrapped around my wrist. For one brief second, she looked unsettled. Then her expression hardened into disgust. “Elena, are you still pretending to be terminally ill?” She still told the housekeeper to bring me something warm, then turned back to the wedding schedule. She cared enough to make sure I ate; she simply did not believe I could actually be dying. I took one sip and set it aside. My father closed the wedding schedule. “Elena, I know this is unfair. Once Bianca gets through tomorrow, I’ll arrange another wedding in Westchester. You can choose the estate, and we’ll make it larger.” “All right.” “If you don’t want the townhouse after someone else has lived there, I’ll buy you another.” “All right.” I agreed so quickly that both my parents paused. Usually, whenever they asked me to give something up, I asked why. Tonight, I asked nothing, and the room relaxed. Nico pushed a property file toward me. “The Tribeca apartment is empty. I can transfer it to you tomorrow.” “I don’t want it.” “Still not enough compensation?” “I won’t need it.” His expression hardened. “There you go again.” “What?” “Talking like you’re dying because you’re angry about the wedding.” He pushed the file closer. “Enough, Elena. Tomorrow is already difficult for Bianca. Stop making everyone feel guilty.” I did not explain. My mother opened a dark red jewelry case. Inside lay an antique Madonna brooch that had belonged to my grandmother. Moretti women traditionally pinned it inside their bridal bouquets. My mother had once promised to fasten it to mine. Now she placed it in Bianca’s palm. “Wear this tomorrow.” Bianca looked at me. “Isn’t this Elena’s?” “Only for one day. Elena can use it when she marries later.” Later. Bianca offered it toward me. “If you’re upset, I don’t have to wear it.” My mother immediately pressed her hand down. “Today, you can have whatever you want.” “Elena has her biological parents to love her. She isn’t going to miss one little brooch.” I looked down at my wrist. The skin was covered in needle marks and darkening bruises from the IVs. Then I smiled. “It suits her.” Adrian moved into the seat beside me and took my hand. “Let this go just this once,” he said. “After the wedding, I’ll do whatever you want.” His hand was warm. It reminded me of the boy who used to sit outside my bedroom whenever I was sick because he was afraid I would wake up alone. The boy who once promised that no matter who entered our lives, he would never make me feel replaceable. For one foolish moment, I thought that boy had come back. A little hope returned despite everything. “What about tonight? Can you stay with me?” Before he answered, Bianca gripped the edge of the table. “I can’t breathe.” My mother rose at once. Nico pulled out her chair, my father called the estate doctor, and Adrian released my hand. Within seconds, everyone surrounded her. No one remembered my question. I waited, then stood. “Mom. Can we take a family picture tonight?” “There’ll be photographers tomorrow. Everyone’s tired.” “Just us.” “Tomorrow, Elena.” But tomorrow, the woman in the wedding dress between them would not be me. My parents, Nico, and Adrian were still listed as my emergency contacts. I crossed out their names one by one. Then I wrote: None. And signed beneath it. Elena Moretti. Chapter 4 I woke on the morning of the wedding to voices downstairs. The Moretti estate had been busy since dawn. Drivers checked the order of the motorcade, security reviewed the guest list, and staff carried flowers and gift boxes through the hall. Adrian was already dressed when I came downstairs. The dark suit was the one we had chosen together months ago, and he wore the cuff links I had given him for our engagement. He looked up and saw me. For a moment, I thought he might come over and ask why I had never waited for him last night. Then Bianca called from the dressing room. “Adrian, can you help me with my veil?” He glanced at me. “Give me a minute.” Then he went to her. My mother found me soon afterward and handed me a black velvet envelope. “There will be a lot of guests today, and you’re not feeling well. Stay at the estate and rest.” She adjusted the collar of my robe with the same familiar gesture she had used when I was a child. “If something happens to you during the ceremony, Bianca may think she really stole your wedding.” “All right.” Inside the envelope was a black card. There was no spending limit and no name printed across the front. “This is compensation for letting Bianca use the wedding,” my mother said. She closed my fingers around the envelope. “Take it, stay home, and don’t cause trouble today.” I nodded. A photography confirmation slip had been tucked between the documents by mistake. The Moretti family portrait was scheduled for the following month. Five names were listed. Salvatore Moretti. Francesca Moretti. Nico Moretti. Bianca Ferraro. Adrian Vitale. Mine was missing. Last night, I had asked my mother for one family photograph. She had told me we could take it at the wedding. Apparently, she had already planned another one. There simply wasn’t a place for me in it. After the motorcade left, the estate became quiet. I changed into the dark green dress I had originally planned to wear after my wedding reception and put on enough lipstick to give my face some color. A message from Adrian appeared. The ceremony will be over soon. Wait for me. Below it was a private livestream link. I opened it. The Moretti lake estate in the Hudson Valley was filled with guests. Adrian stood at the end of the aisle lined with white winter roses, waiting for Bianca. Nico escorted her toward him. The officiant knew the ceremony was symbolic and asked only one question. “Adrian Vitale, will you protect the woman beside you today and remind her that she has not been abandoned by this family?” Bianca looked at him with wet eyes. “Just for today.” Adrian hesitated. Then he answered gently. “I will.” Applause filled the room. I closed the livestream. The promise I had waited seven years to hear could apparently be loaned out too. Pain tore through my abdomen before I could put down the phone. I gripped the edge of the dresser until the dizziness passed, then called Adrian. He answered on the second attempt. “Elena?” I listened to his voice for a moment. Then I said quietly, “Adrian, goodbye.” Silence stretched between us. Then Adrian’s restrained anger finally broke through. “Bianca was right. You’re still trying to ruin this wedding by pretending you’re dying.” I closed my eyes. “I’m not pretending.” “I’m done indulging these pathetic attempts to compete with her. Do whatever you want, Elena.” His voice turned cold. The call ended. Before the line went dead, I heard Bianca ask him what was wrong. “Nothing,” Adrian said. “She’s still trying to ruin the wedding.” I sent one last message to the family group. I hope the five of you will always be this happy together. Nico transferred two hundred thousand dollars. If you need money, take it. Just don’t ruin Bianca’s day. My father did not reply at all. A few minutes later, my mother sent a voice message. “Lena, be good. Mom will come home tonight.” My fingers froze over the screen. Lena. She had not called me that in years. I never imagined that the first time she used my childhood nickname again would be to keep me from ruining Bianca’s wedding. My vision began to blur. For some reason, I saw our family as it had been before Bianca came. Back then, my parents canceled every meeting on my birthday. My mother always baked the cake herself, even though it came out crooked every year. My father carried me downstairs on his shoulders while Nico ran ahead of us, shouting that he had hidden my presents. Nico used to save his allowance for months just to buy me something I had mentioned once. When I was sick, my mother slept beside me. When I cried, my father always asked who had hurt his little girl. There had been a time when I never doubted that they loved me. Then Bianca entered our family, and everything changed. Whenever something went missing, she said I had taken it. Whenever she was hurt, she said I had pushed her. Whenever I tried to defend myself, she cried and asked whether I hated her because she was an orphan. Slowly, I became the daughter who was jealous of her. Cruel. Calculating. So desperate for attention that I would even pretend to be sick. Eventually, they stopped asking whether I had done something wrong. They simply believed I had. I wondered if Mom and Dad would regret it after I died and they finally learned the truth. I wondered if Nico would remember that before they taught him to protect Bianca, I had once protected him. I wondered if Adrian would remember the promise he made when we were children—that no matter who entered our lives, he would never choose someone else over me. But none of it mattered anymore. I was too tired. I closed my eyes. At 11:40 a.m., my heart stopped. The ceremony was approaching the exchange of family rings when Adrian’s phone rang. It was the Moretti house manager. Adrian frowned and answered. “What is it?” “Mr. Vitale… Miss Elena is dead.” Adrian went completely still.