Seven Years as a Substitute

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I had been the hidden woman of my brother's best friend for seven years, and we were planning to marry.

I followed his location to the social club on Mulberry Street and found his gathering in the back room. But as I reached the door, heavy oak left slightly ajar, I overheard their conversation.

Dominic Marchetti, your Cinderella is back. What are you going to do about that stand-in little sister?

He didn't reply.

The atmosphere became tense and another man laughed, the sound loose with whiskey. "It's impressive how bold Dominic is. He dared to go after Marco's sister. Now he's used her up and yet, Serafina is back"

"She left so decisively back then. She deserves to have a stand-in to irritate her!"

The next day, Dominic took me to Serafina's welcome dinner at one of the Family's restaurants, showering me with affectionate gestures the way a man does when he's performing for an audience instead of a woman.

But when Serafina ran out crying, he pushed me aside and rushed after her in panic.

I returned to the townhouse covered in spilled soup and burns and opened the door to the study, one he never allowed me to enter.

On the desk, their photo together was so conspicuous. Him and Serafina. Framed in silver, placed where he could see it every time he sat down.

My heart turned to ash and I called my brother overseas.

"Marco, I've made up my mind about the arranged marriage. I agree!"

"Bianca Valente, have you been wronged?"

My brother paused on the other end of the line for a moment before his voice filled with deep concern. I could hear the weight of it, the particular stillness of a man accustomed to solving problems with his hands trying instead to listen.

I forced a lighthearted smile, despite the bitterness rising in my throat. "No, I've just figured it out. I'm going to get married anyway, so does it matter to whom?"

"Besides, I trust Mom and Dad's judgment. Even if it's an arranged marriage, I'm sure the candidate has been thoroughly vetted by you all."

Only then did my brother let out a relieved sigh. His tone softened. "I'm glad you've figured it out. When are you coming back? Do you want to meet him before making the final decision?"

"No need. The sooner we agree, the sooner the Family crisis can be resolved. You can start preparing for the wedding and let's set the date for a month from now."

"Got it! By the way, do you still have contact with Dominic? I heard his goddess is finally back. You should reach out to him, maybe he'll have time to come celebrate with you and bring some good luck."

I was surprised that my brother knew about Serafina. No wonder Dominic had always insisted I keep our relationship a secret from him. Seven years of closed doors and separate cars and never once standing beside him at a funeral or a Sunday dinner, and now I understood why. It wasn't caution. It was design.

I lowered my gaze to hide the pang in my heart. My thumb found the ring on my right hand and turned it, slow, deliberate.

"Marco, don't bother him. I'm not close to him."

Just then, I heard the sound of the front door. The particular way the deadbolt turned, the heavy click of a lock meant to keep certain people out and certain people in. I said my goodbyes and hung up the phone.

I looked up to meet Dominic's smiling eyes.

"Not close to whom?"

"Not close to you!"

I said honestly, but Dominic raised an eyebrow and mischievously pulled me into his embrace.

"Really? Then tell me how you're not close to me. Are we not close enough, or have we not shared enough nights together, hmm?"

His breath was warm against my ear. The faint scent of cigarette smoke and someone else's perfume clung to his collar.

Our once intimate behavior that made my heart race now only made me feel uncomfortable and repelled.

As I struggled, I noticed the lipstick stain on his shirt collar. A color I didn't own.

The burns on my body ached and I didn't know where the pain came from, but it was so sharp it brought tears to my eyes.

"Bianca, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

Dominic panicked as soon as he saw my tears.

He rolled up his sleeve and saw the large red marks on my wrist, his voice trembling with concern.

"How did this happen? When did you get burned? Why didn't you tell me?"

It seemed like he had completely forgotten what had happened at the dinner. The soup, the chaos, the way he had dropped my hand like dead weight the moment Serafina's tears hit the tablecloth.

I remained silent, unsure whether I should remind him and shatter his mask of feigned affection. The ring on my right hand had gone still.

"All right, stop crying now. I'll put some medicine on it for you."

He gently patted my head to soothe me as he got up to grab the first aid kit, muttering along the way.

"Look at you. Such a big girl, but still afraid of pain and always crying. What would you do without me?"

I stared blankly at the red burn mark on my wrist.

Yes, I'd been spoiled for a full seven years. What would I do without him?

But, Dominic, I don't want you anymore. I don't want this fake love anymore. I said to myself.

That night, I couldn't sleep well and woke up covered in sweat. The safe house was quiet, the way it always was at that hour, when even the soldiers on rotation outside kept their voices to murmurs.

Just as dawn was breaking, Dominic pulled me out of bed.

I grumbled, trying to push him away, but he just chuckled and leaned in to kiss me.

Instantly, all my sleepiness vanished. I almost slapped him, but barely managed to hold myself back.

Luckily, it was just a quick kiss.

"Awake yet, my Sleeping Beauty?"

I turned away, wiping my mouth in disgust.

"It's the weekend. Why can't you let people sleep in?"

Dominic looked helpless. "Did you know you had a fever last night? Get up. I'm taking you to Dr. Ferraro."

Although I felt mostly fine, I couldn't argue with him, so I reluctantly got up.

In the corridor of the private clinic the Marchetti Family kept on retainer, we unexpectedly ran into Serafina.

It looked like she had hurt her foot and was struggling to hop down the hallway on her own.

Dominic, who had been gentle just moments before, instantly frowned. Forgetting I was beside him, he rushed over to Serafina and held her, asking in concern, "What happened?"

Serafina smiled at him, looking past him toward me. She touched her collarbone with her fingertips, a gesture so small it barely registered.

"It's just a sprained ankle. What a coincidence. You two are here for a checkup too?"

Dominic's expression froze. He glanced back at me, his eyes shifting.

"Yeah, my 'little sister' here had a bit of a fever, so I brought her in for a check-up."

I had grown used to being called "sister" by now.

From the moment Dominic decided not to acknowledge me to anyone in the Family, he introduced me as Marco Valente's little sister, someone he was helping to look after. A favor to an allied Family. Nothing more. Only his closest associates knew the truth of what I was to him.

Serafina nodded. "She's staying at your place, so of course, you have to look after her carefully. You two go on. I need to head over there."

She gestured toward the other examination room on the opposite side of the corridor.

Seeing her start hopping again, Dominic didn't think twice before scooping her up in his arms.

"Let me take you over. Bianca, wait here for me."

For some reason, as soon as I saw Serafina, I suddenly felt weak, drained of all energy. I leaned against the wall, saying nothing. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. A soldier stationed near the clinic entrance glanced at me, then looked away. He knew better than to ask questions.

Dominic hadn't actually asked for my permission. After those words, he was already carrying Serafina toward the other room.

The fact was, no matter how well he acted, when faced with Serafina, genuine feelings slipped through, betraying the facade. And Dominic didn't even realize it.

I forced a bitter smile, turned and walked to my own examination room.

Apparently, it wasn't just in my head. After checking my temperature, the doctor told me my fever was as high as 41.3C. The burn had become infected, worsened by my recent emotional stress, leading to a viral infection that required IV treatment.

Out of habit, I reached for my phone to call Dominic, but stopped myself before dialing.

My thumb found the ring on my right hand. I turned it once. Slowly.

Habit was a terrifying thing.

I gave a self-mocking smile, put my phone away, and headed to the IV room alone.

After the IV finished, I felt even dizzier. I took a few steps down the corridor and almost stumbled, catching myself against the wall where the fluorescent light hummed above a faded print of the Madonna.

Dominic still hadn't returned. No calls, no messages.

Reluctantly, I decided to call him first to avoid any misunderstandings. When he heard I was still at the clinic, he paused for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Bianca. I planned to come back for you right after taking Serafina home, but her stomach started acting up, so"

Before he could finish, I overheard a waitress in the background. "Sir, your dishes are all served. Please enjoy your meal!"

Though Dominic quickly covered the receiver, I'd already heard it all.

"It's fine. I'm on my own. I can manage."

I said it to reassure myself and to reassure him.

Just as I was about to hang up, he suddenly called out my name. "Bianca, just head home. I'll explain everything later."

Explain what, exactly? Just more lies to string me along.

I ended the call without a word and arranged for a driver to take me back to the apartment. The car moved through the city's streets, past blocks that belonged to the Marchetti territory, past restaurants where soldiers ate for free and shopkeepers never called the police. I watched it all slide past the window and felt nothing.

But that night, Dominic didn't come back.

Kept awake by the fireworks outside, I pulled out my tablet and resumed sketching custom jewelry designs for a client. The work steadied my hands when nothing else would. While working, I accidentally brushed the chat app in the lower right corner and a new post from an hour ago appeared.

It was from Serafina: a beautiful shot of fireworks bursting against the night sky, captioned with poetic words:

"After half a lifetime away, I return to you. And here, the fireworks bloom, a welcome in all its glory!"

I stared at the post for a long time, only realizing when I tried to log out that the chat app was still logged into Dominic's account on my tablet. I felt uninterested in prying into their flirtations. I simply logged out of the app.

The next morning, feeling somewhat refreshed, I arrived at the studio on time. The workshop sat on a quiet block three streets outside Marchetti territory, a space I'd chosen deliberately. In here, no one knew whose woman I was. No one cared.

The manager held my resignation letter and when she heard I was going back home to get married, she looked both happy and wistful.

"With you leaving, I'm losing one of my best team members."

Unsure of what to say, I gave her a hug and thanked her for all the support over the years.

After completing the formalities, my colleagues heard the news and insisted on a farewell meal to celebrate my upcoming wedding. I didn't decline and booked a table at a restaurant Dominic and I frequented. It was one of the few restaurants I knew and the food was genuinely good. A Family-connected place, white tablecloths and heavy curtains, the kind of establishment where the owner greeted certain guests by name and never presented a bill unless asked.

Halfway through the meal, I excused myself to go to the restroom, only to run into Serafina.

She greeted me warmly. "Didn't expect to see you here, too! You know, this was the restaurant Dominic first brought me to back before he took over the Family. We've come here so many times."

I gave her a polite smile and was about to leave, not considering our relationship close enough for small talk. But she didn't seem to feel the same. Just as I was about to go, she stopped me again.

"I noticed last time that Dominic always rinses the shrimp in water before peeling it for you. Do you also not eat spicy food?"

The word also made me pause for a moment.

The truth is, I do enjoy spicy food. But every time Dominic peeled shrimp for me, he'd insist on rinsing it in water. He always said it wasn't good for a girl to eat too much spice.

I had always thought he was looking out for my health.

But now, I realized it was simply a habit. My right hand drifted to the ring on my thumb. I turned it once, slowly. Then stopped.

The one who didn't eat spicy food. The one he was thinking of. It was Serafina.

Seeing that I was silent, she tilted her head slightly, carefully studying my face.

"I've wanted to say this since the first time we met. Don't you think we look very much alike, little sister?"

In that moment, I had never felt such humiliation and disgrace. Under her triumphant gaze, I could only flee in panic.

Back in the private room, my colleagues' warmth began to thaw my icy blood. Just as I was about to cast aside that unpleasant encounter, the door to the room swung open.

Seeing the two full tables of people, Dominic froze for a moment, then locked eyes with me. I could see the restrained anger in his gaze, though I couldn't understand why. The noise in the room died the way it always did when he appeared. Forks stilled. Conversations went unfinished. The two tables of associates sat straighter without thinking, because that was what the body did in the presence of the Marchetti name.

He clenched his fists before finally calling my name, ordering me outside. Puzzled, I followed him out, only to be met with a hard slap in the corridor.

It was the first time he had ever hit me.

As I stared at him in disbelief, he showed no sign of guilt or hesitation. Just pure fury. His thumb had been running along the edge of his jaw the whole walk out, and I hadn't recognized the warning for what it was.

"Why did you push Serafina? You knew she had a twisted ankle. I told you I'd explain things when we got back, but you just had to handle it so harshly?"

My cheek burned with pain. The hallway of the Family-owned restaurant was empty, the overhead lights casting hard shadows against the dark wood paneling. Somewhere behind the kitchen doors, a plate clattered, and then nothing. Even the staff knew better than to be present for this.

In the distance, Serafina hobbled toward us, her blouse rumpled, stained with water and dirt. Just as I opened my mouth to explain, she fell to the ground with a dramatic thud.

Without a second thought, Dominic pushed past me and rushed over, cradling her in his arms.

"I told you I'd bring her over to apologize to you. Why did you come out here?" he said. Though his words sounded reproachful, his voice was filled with tenderness.

With tears in her eyes, Serafina shook her head at him. Her fingertips drifted to her collarbone, pressing there as if she needed steadying. "It's not a big deal. She didn't do it on purpose. Don't be so hard on her."

"If her brother finds out you hit his sister, it might hurt the bond between you two," she added.

At the mention of Marco, a strange expression crossed Dominic's face. The Valente name still carried weight he couldn't ignore, even now. But his resolve returned as he looked back at Serafina.

"Her brother entrusted her to me, so it's my duty to correct her when she's in the wrong," he said firmly.

I laughed bitterly and couldn't resist asking, "What exactly did I do wrong? Even in court, you need solid evidence to convict someone. Haven't you thought about how unfair it is to judge me and even lay hands on me without understanding the truth?"

Dominic clenched his fists, glaring at me. "You knew there were no cameras in the restroom, so you thought you could act without consequence."

I felt both amused and stung by the injustice.

"If there are no cameras, then how can you be sure it was me?"

"Why would Serafina wrongfully accuse you? She must have a reason, right? Besides, I've known her for years. She's not the kind of person who lies."

"And I am?" I asked, my voice barely hiding the bitterness.

After seven years together, I thought he would trust my character, if nothing else. But I was wrong. In front of Serafina, even seven years meant nothing. One word from her was all it took to convict me, leaving me without a chance to defend myself.

It was blatant favoritism, a glaring display of partiality. And I, in the end, was nothing more than a stand-in, a replacement with nothing to offer. Seven years inside the Marchetti world, and my word carried less weight than that of a woman who had been gone from it for most of them.

I turned my ring slowly with my thumb. The small gold band on my right hand, the one I'd worn since I was a girl. It rotated once. Twice. Then stopped.

Seeing no point in arguing further, I turned to leave, ignoring Dominic's furious commands to stay.

With the mark of his slap still on my face, I didn't want to ruin my associates' evening, so I chose not to return to the private room. Instead, I went to the front of the restaurant, settled the bill, and sent them a message:

"Something urgent came up, so I had to leave. Enjoy the meal and drinks. It's on me."

Dragging my exhausted body back to the safe house, I took a long, detailed look at this place where I'd lived for the past seven years.

Every corner held memories of Dominic and me. Once so beautiful, now stabbing into my heart like a thousand sharp blades. The kitchen counter where he'd stood behind me, arms around my waist, teaching me to fold pasta dough. The hallway where I'd waited up past midnight, listening for the sound of his car pulling into the garage. The bedroom doorway where he'd lean, watching me sleep, thinking I didn't know.

I found a large cardboard box and, unable to sleep, spent the night erasing those remnants of happiness.

There were the matching house slippers with our initials stitched inside, the pair of espresso cups that nested together when you turned them just right, the twin Saint Christopher medals he'd had blessed at the same church on the same day. And a whole box of photographs and Polaroids. These were once the only proof of our relationship, especially in those times when I felt insecure. No public dinners. No Family gatherings. No seat beside him at any table that mattered. Just these small, hidden things in a house nobody knew I shared with him.

Now, there was no need for any of it.

Dominic didn't come home for half a month. In that time, apart from finishing my design drafts, I nearly cleared out the entire house. I even disposed of the furniture I'd chosen myself, leaving the place as it was when I first moved in. Black and white, so minimal that you could see the entire room in a single glance. No warmth. No evidence. As if I had never existed here at all.

The night before I left, I thought I should at least say something to Dominic, so I called him. But every time I dialed, he kept rejecting my calls. After a while, he sent me a message.

"If you haven't realized your mistake and aren't genuinely ready to apologize to Serafina, then I don't think there's any reason for us to speak."

I smiled bitterly. Well, if that's the case, then we won't speak. My thumb turned the ring on my right hand, one slow rotation. Then it stopped.

Early the next morning, I headed out with my suitcase for my flight.

As I left what was once my warm and cherished home, I felt nothing but overwhelming relief. The lock clicked behind me with a sound so final it could have been a door closing on a crypt. I did not look back. There was nothing left inside that place worth looking at.

Just before boarding, my phone buzzed with countless birthday messages. Some wished me great success, some wished me peace and happiness, and some wished me a blessed marriage with a wonderful partner.

After replying to each one, I turned off my phone.

As the plane took off, I thought to myself: I will be happy. With so many blessings, I knew I would be. Below me, the city shrank to a grid of lights, and somewhere in that grid, in a compound I would never enter again, Dominic Marchetti did not know I was gone.