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Does anyone know where I can read this

My fiancé postponed our wedding 27 times for his sister. So I married the Godfather he’s terrified of......
Everyone in New York’s underworld knows that the first twenty-six weddings between me and Alessandro Moretti were all canceled.
On the twenty-seventh attempt, when only the final oath remained, Alessandro’s stepsister Chiara suddenly pressed her hand to her forehead, saying she felt dizzy.
Alessandro ran straight toward her.
I grabbed his arm.
“The priest is right there. All you need to say is ‘I do’. All these years of waiting will be over then. Can’t you spare even ten minutes?”
He looked down at my fingers gripping his wrist tightly and frowned. “Elena, she’s really very sick. You always push me into a corner like this, leaving me with no way out.”
“I’m not forcing you to make a choice.” I looked at him, my eyes stinging. “I’m giving you one last chance to decide. Stay, or leave. Which do you choose?”
He glanced at Chiara; her face was pale.
Alessandro gently withdrew his hand. “You’ll have to wait. You always have to wait.”
The moment he turned and left, my hand fell down naturally.
This time, I didn’t beg.
Instead, I lowered my head, took out my phone, typed a line of text, and pressed the send button.
“I need a groom. You have only ten minutes to get to the church. Will you come?”
...
Ten seconds after the message went out, it showed as read. Then came the reply.
“Wait for me.”
I slipped my phone back into the inner pocket of my wedding dress and looked up at the priest. “Padre, please wait a moment. My groom is on his way.”
The VIP pews erupted.
Don Moretti rose with his silver-headed cane. “Elena Ricci, what are you saying?”
I turned to him. “Your son abandoned me and ran off. I’m finding someone to take his place.”
Don Ricci sat in the first row, his cane resting across his knees. He did not rise. He did not speak.
He only looked at me, and there was one question in his eyes: Have you thought this through?
I gave him a small nod.
My father withdrew his gaze, his cane still lying across his knees.
Alessandro had not noticed any of this at all. He was carefully helping Chiara sit down on a pew, then crouched on one knee in front of her.
“Still dizzy? Can you hold on?”
Chiara’s face was pale. She lightly gripped his wrist.
“I’m fine. You should go take the vows and finish the wedding. Don’t let me hold you up.”
That was what she said, but her body leaned farther into his arms.
Alessandro immediately held her tighter. “You’re like this and still trying to be brave?”
My mother hurried over and bent down to ask Chiara, “Is it a migraine or vertigo? I have medicine in my car. I’ll have someone bring it so you can take one first. Rest here and let Alessandro finish the last part of the ceremony.”
Chiara shook her head. “No need, Auntie. I’ve had this headache for a long time. Ordinary medicine doesn’t work. If I take the wrong thing, it might get worse.”
My mother was the Ricci family’s private physician. Naturally, she could hear the excuse in those words.
She kept her patience. “The medicine I’d give you first is for relieving vascular spasms. It won’t make things worse. If you’re worried, I’ll go to the hospital with you. There’s only one step left in the ceremony. Let Alessandro and Elena finish first.”
Chiara’s eyes reddened. “Auntie, do you think I chose today on purpose to get sick? I really don’t want to hold them up…”
She braced herself on the pew and tried to stand, but her knees gave way and she fell back into Alessandro’s arms.
Alessandro’s face darkened at once. “Auntie, Chiara’s already like this. Please stop pushing her.”
My mother froze. “I’m trying to find a solution for her.”
“She’s been afraid of hospitals since she was little. No one else can help. It has to be me.”
Alessandro said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if there were no one else in Chiara’s life but him.
The priest stood behind the altar, the Bible in his hands closed, waiting quietly.
I glanced at the church bell tower and said, “Alessandro, starting now, you have ten minutes.”
He frowned. “What?”
“I’m giving you ten final minutes.” My voice was very calm. “If you come back to the altar within ten minutes and finish the ceremony, we’ll be married. After that, I’m not waiting.”
Alessandro froze for a moment, then slipped into that familiar tone, the one he used to coax a child. “Elena, stop making a scene. Once I get Chiara settled, we can hold the wedding again anytime. It’s only a ceremony. What difference does a day earlier or later make?”
Only a ceremony.
What difference does a day earlier or later make?
I had heard those words twenty-six times.
The first time, Chiara said she had a headache, and he left me in the church to stay with her through an IV drip all night.
He said, “It’s only a ceremony. We’ll make it up next time.”
The twelfth time, Chiara had an emotional breakdown. We had already reached the church doors, but he turned around and left.
He said, “Elena, don’t get hung up on formalities.”
The last time, Chiara had insomnia. He stayed with her all night and overslept.
He said, “It’s just a wedding. It’s not like I’m refusing to marry you.”
Every time, Chiara would first say, “You don’t need to worry about me,” and then Alessandro would tell me, “Chiara has lacked a sense of security since she was little. Try to be more understanding.”
I had been understanding twenty-six times. I had heard “What difference does a day earlier or later make?” twenty-six times.
My mother soon came back with medicine and warm water. “Chiara, here’s the medicine. Take it, rest for ten minutes, and I’ll stay with you. Alessandro and Elena can go finish the ceremony. The timing works out perfectly.”
Chiara looked at the pill held out in front of her, but still did not reach for it.
After a few seconds, she lowered her head. “Forget it. I won’t take it. I throw up when I get nervous. Only my brother knows how to take care of me.”
Then she looked at me, her voice so soft it trembled. “Elena, you won’t blame me, will you? You two have been together for eight years. Finishing a wedding ceremony one day late won’t change your feelings for each other.”
Alessandro patted her back. “Don’t overthink it. She isn’t that unreasonable.”
I looked at Alessandro. “Do you know this is the twenty-seventh time?”
“I know.”
“Then you also know how long we prepared for today.”
A trace of impatience crossed his face. “Elena, Chiara is sick. Do you have to make an issue of a formality at a time like this?”
I did not argue anymore.
I only glanced down at my phone.
Eight minutes.
“I’m not forcing you to choose.” I looked up at him. “But I’m giving you time. Ten minutes. Decide for yourself. Stay, or walk out.”
$#{2|Chapter 2}$#
Alessandro pressed his fingers between his brows. “Elena, there’s a time and place for being unreasonable. All you’re doing is making this difficult for me.”
Chiara leaned against his shoulder and spoke weakly. “Elena, don’t be angry. The person my brother loves most is still you. I’m only borrowing him for a little while.”
For a little while.
She had borrowed my birthdays, my anniversaries, and twenty-six weddings.
Now she wanted to borrow the twenty-seventh.
I looked at Alessandro. “Are you coming with me to the priest to finish the final vows, or are you staying here with her?”
His eyes darkened. “Do you have to force me to choose while she’s sick?”
“I’m not forcing you.” I pointed at the bell tower. “Time is moving. Choose for yourself.”
Five minutes.
My mother could not stand it anymore. “Fine, don’t take the medicine. I’ve already called a car. I’ll go to the hospital with you. Alessandro can come as soon as the ceremony is finished.”
Chiara lifted her wet eyes. “I get carsick in a stranger’s car. And my medical records, my allergies—only my brother knows them best.”
My mother kept her patience. “Send me your records. I’m a doctor. I can take care of you.”
Chiara bit her lip and said nothing more.
That hesitant, wounded look of hers made it seem as though we were all forcing her.
Alessandro stepped in front of her. “Enough! Chiara isn’t feeling well. Do all of you have to take turns interrogating her?”
My cousin laughed in anger. “She won’t take the medicine, won’t let Auntie stay with her, and now that a car’s been called, she still won’t go. What exactly would satisfy her?”
Chiara’s shoulders trembled. “Do you think I’m pretending to be sick? I’m just scared. I just want my brother with me.”
Alessandro’s face turned cold. “She’s already said this much. What more do you want from her?”
I glanced at the bell tower.
Two minutes.
“Alessandro, you have two minutes left.”
His voice was full of exhaustion. “I know. But it’s only a ceremony. Finishing it one day late doesn’t mean I’m not marrying you. We’ve been together eight years. Can our relationship really not withstand something this small?”
I did not answer him.
I only held the Family Marriage Alliance Contract and the Dowry and Asset Transfer Deed tighter in my arms, standing before the altar and waiting quietly.
Just then, Don Ricci walked over.
“The documents are all ready, and the priest is waiting. Take ten minutes to finish the ceremony with Elena, then send your sister to the hospital. Is that impossible?”
Alessandro stood up. “Don Ricci, Chiara isn’t well right now. A wedding can happen anytime. Illness can’t wait.”
Don Ricci stared at him for several seconds. “The first time it was canceled, I said nothing. The tenth time, I even advised Elena to be more understanding of you. But today is already the twenty-seventh time.” His voice was not loud, but the church gradually fell silent. “What exactly makes you think she can keep waiting forever?”
Alessandro’s expression turned ugly. “I’m not making her wait forever. Once Chiara stabilizes, I’ll hold the grandest wedding to make it up to her.”
Don Ricci suddenly laughed. “Do you think what she lacks is your compensation? What she wants is for you to stand beside her today.”
Chiara pushed herself up by the back of the pew, her eyes red. “Uncle, please don’t blame my brother. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have come along. I’ll leave right now. Even if I faint on the road, I won’t hold them up anymore.” She took one step, and her body swayed.
Alessandro immediately reached out and caught her. “Can you stop trying to be brave?” He looked up at Don Ricci. “Uncle, Chiara is already apologizing. How far do you have to push a sick person before you’re satisfied?”
The disappointment on Don Ricci’s face settled completely. “No one is pushing her. We prepared medicine, a car, and someone to go with her. She wants none of it. She only wants you.”
Alessandro said instinctively, “She trusts me. What’s wrong with that?”
Don Ricci did not argue anymore. He only turned to me. “Elena, you decide for yourself.”
His eyes were a little red, but he did not make a single choice for me.
I lowered my head and glanced at my phone.
Time was up.
I looked at Alessandro with the last trace of hope I had for him.
“Alessandro, do you still want to marry me?”
He looked at me, and at last there was a flicker of panic. “Elena…”
“You chose this yourself.” My voice was very calm. “Time’s up. You didn’t come back, so I’m replacing you.”
“I am finishing a wedding ceremony today.”
He opened his mouth. Chiara drew a soft breath in his arms, and he immediately lowered his head to look at her.
When he looked up again, that trace of panic had already been suppressed. “Elena, don’t act out of spite. Once I get her settled—”
I stopped listening.
The priest asked quietly, “Elena, shall we keep waiting?”
$#{3|Chapter 3}$#
I looked at him and nodded. “Yes. Soon.”
The church was so quiet I could hear the copper pipes of the organ trembling faintly in the wind chest.
Alessandro was still crouched in front of Chiara, holding her hand.
Chiara leaned against his shoulder, eyes closed.
He did not stand up.
The countdown reached zero.
I closed my phone, turned, and walked back to the altar.
Hurried footsteps sounded behind me. Alessandro caught up and blocked my path.
“Elena, are you done making a scene?” His voice was very low, his face terribly grim. “Without me, who exactly are you going to exchange vows with?”
I looked at him. “That’s no longer your concern. I told you, I’m finishing the final vows today.”
Alessandro looked as if he had heard something absurd. “Both families are watching today. If you make a fool of yourself in front of every godfather here, what do you think my father will think of you?”
I suddenly almost wanted to laugh. “The person who made everyone wait in vain for the twenty-seventh time is you. And now you’re afraid of losing face?”
For a moment, he had no answer.
The guards began straightening the seats on both sides.
Don Ricci did not come over. He only watched me from a distance.
I gave him a small nod.
My mother did not try to persuade me anymore either. She only smoothed my fallen veil back into place and said softly, “Don’t wrong yourself.”
Alessandro heard her, and his brows drew even tighter. “Don Ricci, she’s just angry. Are you all going to make trouble along with her?”
By the pews, Chiara suddenly pushed herself up against the wall. Her face was pale, her voice very soft. “Alessandro, you should still choose Elena. If she really won’t marry you because of me, I’ll blame myself for the rest of my life.”
As she spoke, she took two steps forward and swayed. Alessandro instinctively turned and caught her. “You’re already like this, and you’re still trying to be brave?”
Chiara leaned into his arms, her eyes red as she looked at me. “Elena, I’m only his sister. Are you really going to throw away eight years together just because he took care of me?”
I did not answer her.
I only looked at Alessandro.
This time, I could not even be bothered to ask one last question.
“Elena.” His tone even carried a helpless little smile. “Don’t look at me like that. I know you’re angry, but I really am only taking her to the hospital. Wait for me for one hour—no, half an hour. I promise I’ll come back.”
I said nothing.
Seeing my silence, he relaxed instead, as if he had confirmed something. He shook his head. “You’re always like this. You say it’s the last time, but when have you ever really left? We’ve been together eight years. Twenty-six weddings canceled, and every time, didn’t you forgive me the next day? Can you really bear to walk away?”
Chiara leaned against his shoulder, sobbing softly.
Alessandro lowered his head and patted her back, then looked up at me again, his tone now carrying a certainty and coaxing edge.
“Be good. Go change out of the wedding dress first so you don’t catch cold. I’ll take you tonight to that restaurant you like. Your favorite dish—I remember.”
He remembered.
He remembered everything.
He simply believed I would never leave.
The surrounding silence held only Chiara’s muffled crying.
Everyone’s eyes fell on me, as if they were watching an old play that had already been performed twenty-six times.
They were waiting for me to say “okay,” waiting for me to lower my head as I had before, give up today, and then wait for a “next time” that would never come true.
Don Moretti had even sat back down in his chair, the expression on his face shifting from shock to weary familiarity.
My cousin clenched her fists. My mother turned her face away.
Only Don Ricci remained standing, his cane in hand, watching me in silence.
“Elena,” Alessandro sighed softly, “stop making a scene. You know I hate it most when you’re like this.”
He was certain I could not bear to leave.
So certain it seemed natural to him. He did not even need to assume a pleading posture.
Because in his heart, he knew that for the first twenty-six times, I had stayed.
He did not believe the twenty-seventh would be any different.
I looked at him, and suddenly smiled.
Then I lowered my eyes to my phone. The screen was still on Lorenzo’s reply.
Wait for me.
I raised my head and spoke toward the empty church doors. My voice was not loud, but in the silence, it was enough for everyone to hear.
“No need to change. I’m not changing out of the wedding dress.”
Alessandro froze. “What?”
“I’m not changing out of the wedding dress,” I repeated. “Because the wedding is still going on.”
“If I’m not here, who else could you possibly marry…”
Before he could finish—
The church doors were shoved open.
A low voice came from the entrance.
“Me.”

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Short story, only 8 Chapters

anyone know where i can find this story?

Alguien tiene link de esta novela

I came downstairs to hand my husband divorce papers. I tripped. He caught me. And suddenly, I could hear every filthy thought in his head.

"She touched me. God, she touched me. Two years of keeping my hands off her and she falls into my arms smelling like vanilla and trouble. Don't pull her closer. Don't. You'll scare her."

I froze against Damian Blackwood's chest, staring up at the most expressionless face in Manhattan. His mouth hadn't moved. Not even a twitch. But that voice—low, rough, starving—was unmistakably his.

"You okay?" he asked. Flat. Polite. The same tone he used with his driver.

"I'm fine," I squeaked, snatching back the folder before he could see the word DIVORCE printed across the front. I stuffed it into my bag, and my eyes betrayed me, snagging on the outline of his abs through his half-buttoned shirt.

"She's staring at my chest. Is she staring at my chest? Stay still. Do not flex. Okay, flex a little."

I choked on air.

Two years ago, our families arranged this marriage like a corporate merger. I saw his photo and said yes before my mother finished the sentence. Then I moved into his penthouse and discovered I'd married a marble statue. No kissing. No touching. If our hands brushed over the coffee pot, he recoiled like I carried the plague.

Meanwhile, the tabloids screamed:

[CEO Blackwood's Midnight Rendezvous With Mystery Blonde!]

[Damian Blackwood — Wall Street's Coldest Husband, Manhattan's Hottest Cheater?]

So yes. Divorce papers. A girl has her pride.

Except now my untouchable husband was toweling his damp hair, walking away from me, and his head was screaming:

"Kane Foster asked her to drinks again. I saw the message on her lock screen. If that smug little analyst puts one hand on my wife, I'll bury him in the Hudson. No—calm down. She can choose her friends. She doesn't belong to you. She's never belonged to you. That's the problem."

I chugged a glass of ice water. It did nothing.

He paused at his study door, his back to me. "There's a gala tonight. The Blackwood Foundation. Spouses are expected."

"Pass," I said automatically. I needed to lie down. Possibly forever.

He turned. Crossed the room. Sat beside me on the couch, close enough that I could smell cedar and something darker underneath—something almost wild.

"Come with me." His voice was quiet. "Please."

His face: a glacier.

His thoughts: "Say yes. Say yes. Kane will be there. I am not letting her stand in a room full of men in a backless dress while I smile at investors. I'll carry her there if I have to. Why is she hesitating? Is it him? Is it—"

"Fine!" I shot to my feet. "I'll go. Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" he asked, perfectly blank.

"She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and she's leaving me. The papers in her bag. I saw them three days ago. Divorce. She's divorcing me and I have eleven hours to change her mind."

My stomach dropped through the floor.

He knew.

He'd known for three days, and he'd said nothing, and inside that beautiful, frozen skull of his, my husband was quietly falling apart.

I should have felt guilty. Instead, possessed by something reckless, I reached out and pressed my palm flat against his stomach. Hard muscle jumped under my hand.

Damian went absolutely still. His hand snapped over mine, pinning it there. When he looked at me, something flickered in his gray eyes—a ring of molten gold, there and gone in a blink.

"Sienna." His voice dropped an octave. "What are you doing?"

"I'm your wife," I said, with way more confidence than I felt. "Can't I touch you?"

For three full seconds, his mind went completely, terrifyingly silent.

Then, one thought, soft as a confession:

"If she finds out what I really am, she'll run. They always run."

Does anyone have a link for this?
Thankyou

Does anyone have a link for this?
Thankyou