Chapter 22
His friends nodded solemnly, their expressions grim.
Pain erupted in Dante’s chest–not from his injuries, but from a wound no surgeon could repair. The realization crushed him like a physical weight, making each breath a struggle.
Despite the blood seeping through his bandages, he threw back the covers and attempted to stand,
his movements frantic and uncoordinated.
“No, they can’t–I have to stop this,” he gasped, his voice unrecognizable. “She’s mine. Rosie is mine!”
“Jesus Christ, Wolf!” Marcus lunged forward, grabbing his shoulders. “Your body is literally broken! Five shattered ribs, internal bleeding–Lima tried to kill you! What are you doing?”
The wild desperation in Dante’s eyes shocked them all. His perfectly composed mask had completely shattered, revealing raw, unfiltered agony.
“I’d rather die than lose her,” he whispered, tears streaming unchecked down his face. “Let me go.”
His friends exchanged horrified glances. This man–who had once walked away from a
billion–dollar deal because someone had kept him waiting five minutes–was now sobbing openly, begging to pursue a woman who had rejected him.
“Wolf…” Tyler began, his voice soft with disbelief.
Dante shoved past them, each step sending lightning bolts of pain through his chest. His legs
threatened to buckle, but he forced himself forward, a man possessed.
Jason finally exhaled heavily. “Help him before he kills himself trying.”
Supporting Dante between them, they rushed to the wedding venue.
The Bel Air estate was transformed into something from a fairy tale–cascading orchids, candlelight
casting golden halos, string quartets playing softly as elegantly dressed guests mingled. The contrast
with Dante’s disheveled appearance–hospital gown visible beneath his hastily thrown–on jacket, unshaven, wild–eyed–couldn’t have been more stark.
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He pushed through the doors, stumbling into the ceremony. The collective gasp from the assembled guests seemed to pull all oxygen from the room.
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But Dante saw only one person.
Rosalie stood radiant in a custom gown that made her look like she’d stepped from a dream. Her face carried a soft smile, her eyes shining with unmistakable love–love directed at the man beside
her, not him.
Seeing her look at another man the way she once looked at him shattered something fundamental
inside him.
“Rosie,” he pleaded, his voice breaking as he staggered forward. “Please don’t do this… please don’t marry him…”
She turned, surprise flickering across her face before settling into something cooler, more resolved.
“Dante? Why are you here?”
“I was wrong,” he said, words tumbling out desperately. “Everything I did–using you, lying to you–it was unforgivable. But somewhere along the way, it became real. I fell in love with you. Please, just
one chance. I’ll spend every day of my life making it up to you.”
The man who had once calculated every word now spoke without filter, raw emotion pouring out.
Rosalie’s expression remained unchanged, her voice calm and detached. “Dante, I don’t love you anymore. I meant every word in that text. Unlike you, I don’t pretend to feel things I don’t. When I say I don’t love you, it’s the truth. Alistair is the only one in my heart now.”
The casual use of “Alistair” instead of “Ali” or “my brother” cut deeper than any knife. This wasn’t just rejection–it was complete erasure of their past.
“Please,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Don’t do this to me.”
She simply looked through him, as if he were already a ghost.
In desperation, Dante turned to Alistair. “You wanted this all along, didn’t you? To see me broken?
Well, look at me now!”
Without warning, he collapsed to his knees, the impact sending fresh waves of agony through his injured body. Blood began to seep more heavily through his bandages.
“You wanted to see me kneel? I’m kneeling! I’ll stay on my knees for the rest of my life if that’s what it takes!” His voice broke as he continued, “Take everything–my companies, my properties, every project you’ve ever wanted. Let me sign it all over to you right now. Just give her back to me. She’s all
that matters.”
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The man who had built an empire through ruthless negotiation was now offering everything be owned for one person. The proud, untouchable Dante Wolf–reduced to begging his word enemy, blood seeping through his shirt, tears streaming down his face,
The entire room went silent, shocked by the spectacle.
Alistair regarded him with cold satisfaction. “Do you think kneeling erases what you did? Do you think anything could make up for how you treated the woman I love?”
“Please,” Dante whispered, no longer the powerful CEO but just a broken man begging for the light in his darkness. “I’ll do anything. Break my legs, take my fortune, ruin my name–anything, Just
let me have another chance with her.”
Alistair’s smile was chilling. “Security, remove Mr. Wolf.”
As guards approached, Dante clung to the floor, fingernails scraping against marble. “NO! I WONT
LEAVE HER!”
“Actually,” Alistair said, his voice deceptively pleasant, “let him stay. It seems fitting that he should witness this moment. After all, he worked so hard to bring us together, didn’t he? In a way, we
should thank him.”
Each word was a carefully placed dagger, twisting deeper with false civility.
Security forced Dante into a seat near the back, restraining him as the ceremony resumed.
The minister’s voice carried clearly. “Alistair Lima, do you take Rosalie Lima to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?”
Alistair’s voice resonated with absolute certainty. “I do.”
The minister turned to Rosalie. “Rosalie Lima, do you take Alistair Lima to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?”
Rosalie’s voice was soft but unwavering as she looked into Alistair’s eyes. “I do.”
With those two simple words, the last fragments of Dante’s world imploded.
The man who had everything–wealth, power, influence–was now truly left with nothing.
The foundation of who he had been was swept away, leaving only the hollow shell of a man who
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had realized too late what truly mattered.
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Om
J Vass Enomy My Stepbrother
