Loading promotion info...
The Don Thought I'd Never Leave
Novelix
Completed
"For Don Tommaso Leone's birthday, I spent six hours baking his favorite cake. Then I walked into his party and found my boyfriend of ten years kissing my twin sister—with a wedding ring on her finger. They'd been secretly married for six months. My family expected me to accept it. Tommaso even told me to cancel my ticket to Milan because there was no place for me there. What he didn't know was that I'd just been appointed to run Bellavita's Milan branch. So I kept my ticket. And this time, I left him behind."
Chapters (3)
第1章
The day my boyfriend, Don Tommaso Leone, turned another year older, I spent six straight hours in the kitchen.
I made his favorite—pistachio birthday cake.
When I pushed open the door to the private dining room, balancing the cake in both hands, the crowd inside erupted.
"Kiss her!"
I smiled. Figured they were playing some stupid party game.
Then I froze.
Tommaso dipped his head and kissed my sister Alessia.
She was sitting on his lap, one arm looped around his neck.
On her ring finger, a diamond caught the candlelight and flashed.
My entire body went cold—like I'd been plunged into ice water. I couldn't move until Alessia noticed me.
She didn't get off his lap. Instead, she smiled and raised her left hand.
"Sis, perfect timing. You haven't congratulated us yet."
I stared at the ring.
"What is this?"
Tommaso finally turned his head. There wasn't a shred of guilt on his face.
"Alessia and I got married six months ago. Registered in Milan."
"Tommaso, that's a disgusting joke." My voice shook.
The room went painfully awkward. Mom jumped in immediately.
"Enough. Alessia was very sick a while back. Tommaso only went through with the registration to grant her wish."
My brother Adriano squeezed my shoulder.
"You've been supporting Alessia for three years. You might as well see this good deed through."
Tommaso glanced at me. His tone was flat.
"Cancel your ticket to Milan. There's no place for you there anymore."
One day ago, I'd been appointed manager of the Milan branch. I had six hours to confirm I'd report on time.
Just an hour earlier, I'd slipped a one-way ticket to Milan inside my wallet—a surprise for Tommaso on his birthday.
I'd thought the trip was the beginning of our future together. Our wedding promise, finally fulfilled.
But they'd already mapped out my life—including that ticket—as though none of it mattered.
Too bad for them. I wasn't going to play along.
…
The room was silent for a good ten seconds.
One of Tommaso's friends broke first—a nervous laugh.
"Tommaso, man, this joke's going way too far. Look how pale your girlfriend is. Tell her it's not real."
Tommaso said nothing.
Three years ago, he'd gone to Milan alone to clean up his family's business and build something legitimate.
Every time I brought up getting married first, he'd say:
"Just hang on a little longer. Once the company's on its feet, I'll marry you."
For that promise, I stayed put in Sicily like a good girl.
I stopped getting upset when he forgot our anniversaries. When I got sick, I didn't ask him for comfort.
I didn't even tell him about the miscarriage—the one caused by his enemies.
Alessia leaned into Tommaso and waved her phone at me.
"Tommaso opened his own branch ages ago. Sorry, Sis. All those paychecks and bonuses you wired him? He just handed them to me. Called it pocket money."
She nestled against him, her wedding band glinting under the lights.
As if worried I hadn't gotten a good enough look, she slowly twisted the ring on her finger.
"When did you order the rings?" I asked.
"February nineteenth."
Tommaso said it without flinching.
I remembered that date perfectly.
I'd had a raging fever that day, and I still dragged myself to the bank to wire him a hundred and twenty thousand dollars.
He'd said a rival family had conned him out of everything. That the landlord was about to throw him out. His voicemail was drenched in exhaustion.
I was terrified he'd break down. So before the bank closed, I transferred the money I'd saved for the World Pastry Arts training program.
That night, he sent one text.
[Got it, sweetheart. Just hold on six more months.]
But that same day, he and my sister walked into city hall and signed a marriage certificate.
Mom grabbed my hand.
"The registration is just temporary. Alessia couldn't sleep back then. Every time she mentioned Tommaso, she'd hyperventilate. The doctor said she couldn't take any more stress."
"So you forced him to marry her?"
"It's just a piece of paper."
Adriano frowned.
"You've known Tommaso for ten years. Does a piece of paper really matter more than that?"
I looked at Tommaso.
"Is that what you think too?"
He calmly tucked a loose strand of hair behind Alessia's ear.
"Sofia, what's done is done. Making a scene now only embarrasses everyone."
"Then what am I?"
"I'll make it up to you."
Every head at the table dropped.
The friend who'd been the loudest raised his glass, trying to smooth things over in a low voice.
"Tommaso was saving a life. Alessia's health is fragile. You're her sister—you should understand."
Alessia stood up, eyes glistening red.
"Sofia, if you really can't accept this, I'll divorce Tommaso."
The word divorce hung in the air, but her fingers were white-knuckled around Tommaso's sleeve.
Tommaso gently pushed her back into her chair.
"Don't say things when you're upset."
Then he looked up at me.
"You've always been the sensible one. Don't push her tonight."
Sensible.
I'd been hearing that word for twenty-seven years.
Because I was sensible, Mom stayed with Alessia when she had a fever and sent nine-year-old me to the hospital alone.
Because I was sensible, Grandma's pastry shop went to my brother, and the apprenticeship went to Alessia.
Because I was sensible, even the man I'd loved for ten years was loaned out to save my sister's life.
A waiter rolled in a birthday cake, breaking the silence.
Osmanthus branches were pressed into the frosting in an intricate pattern.
At the very end of one branch, a leaf was missing a corner—like an insect had nibbled it away.
My hand froze at the edge of the table.
That was Grandma's old mold pattern.
When I was sixteen, I'd been working with Grandma on an improved almond cream pastry recipe and accidentally dropped the mold. It chipped, leaving one corner broken.
After that, every pastry stamped with that mold had an osmanthus leaf with a missing corner.
It was a secret only Grandma and I shared.
Tommaso cut a slice and handed it to Alessia, his voice soft.
"This is the signature almond cream pastry from your Milan shop. Try it."
I stared at the chipped leaf on the cake.
"Who made this?"
Alessia's hand stopped mid-reach.
Mom answered for her.
"You didn't know Alessia opened her own shop? She already has seven locations in Milan."
For three years, Tommaso told me he couldn't afford rent.
For three years, Alessia told me she was too sick to work.
But in a world I couldn't see, they'd gotten married, taken the recipe Grandma and I had developed together, and built a chain of seven stores.
Tommaso set the pastry on Alessia's plate.
"You'll understand eventually."
His voice was light. As if what I'd missed wasn't three years of a life they'd built together—just some trivial dinner I'd skipped.
---
第2章
I didn't leave the table.
Tommaso seemed to think I'd finally come around.
He slid a bank card toward me.
"There's eight hundred thousand in there. Consider it repayment."
I looked at the card.
Over three years, I'd wired him a total of one million and sixty thousand dollars.
That was every paycheck, every bonus, plus my small share of the inheritance from selling Grandma's old shop.
"You still owe me two hundred and sixty thousand."
Tommaso's brow creased slightly.
"Sofia, we don't need to nickel-and-dime each other. Besides, Alessia's shops just expanded. Cash flow is tight."
"What does my money have to do with her shops?"
Alessia's face went pale.
Adriano raised his glass in front of her.
"The money you sent Tommaso—part of it went to Alessia's treatment, part of it funded her shops. We're all family. What difference does it make where the money went?"
I stared at Tommaso.
"I thought a rival family scammed you out of everything?"
Dead silence.
He didn't look away.
"No."
"The landlord chasing you for rent—that was a lie too?"
"Yes. All of it."
Each word came out slow and steady. Like he was reviewing an invoice that had nothing to do with him.
"Why?" I asked.
"If I told you things were going well, you'd have come to Milan."
Tommaso held his glass, his thumb tracing the rim.
"Alessia couldn't be left alone back then. If you showed up, she'd think you were interfering. She'd spiral."
"So you took my money and told me to wait?"
"Money I can pay back. But if something happened to her, I couldn't bring her back."
His friends started playing peacemaker.
"Tommaso's words are harsh, but he's got a point."
"Sofia, you're healthy, you've got a stable career. Alessia was genuinely falling apart."
Mom picked up the bank card and stuffed it into my bag.
"Eight hundred thousand is more than generous. Write off the rest as an investment in your sister's business. Don't make us look bad over pocket change in front of outsiders."
I pulled the card out and set it back on the table.
"What's the shop called?"
Alessia answered quietly.
"Dolce Segreto."
I went still.
When I was seventeen, Grandma told me to pick a name for the shop I'd open someday.
I wrote two words in my notebook.
Dolce Segreto.
Tommaso had been sitting right next to me. He'd laughed and said the name sounded old-fashioned.
Later, he had someone carve those words into a small wooden sign.
He hung it behind the door of Grandma's shop and told me that when we moved to Milan, we'd use that name for our first store.
That wooden sign was now sitting behind the birthday cake.
A new line had been added:
[Founders: Alessia & Tommaso]
I reached for it. Alessia grabbed it first, pressing it against her chest.
"Sis, the name's already registered. All seven shops use it. I can't give it back."
"What about my recipe?"
Mom cut in immediately.
"Alessia is Grandma's granddaughter too."
"Grandma only taught me. And I co-developed the recipe with her."
"You're twins. What's the difference?"
Mom said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
For a moment, I genuinely didn't know how to respond.
Tommaso pushed the bank card back toward me.
"The name and the recipe are already part of the brand. We can't just stop using them. Take the money. Let's end this tonight."
"And if I don't?"
He stared at me for a long few seconds.
"Sofia, you can't destroy the only thing Alessia has control over."
"And you can't bring yourself to walk away from what we have."
He knew me too well.
He knew I couldn't stand watching Mom cry. Couldn't stand seeing my sister sick.
Most of all, he knew that if he lowered his voice and said just wait a little longer, I'd make excuses for everyone.
Once upon a time, he'd have been right.
Not anymore.
Alessia wiped her tears and asked the waiter to bring out the party favors.
The box opened.
Inside, twelve almond cream pastries sat in neat rows.
Each one stamped with a chipped osmanthus leaf.
At the bottom, a line of small print:
[Dolce Segreto Traditional Craft. Original creation by Ms. Alessia.]
---
第3章
The birthday dinner wasn't over yet.
To lighten the mood, someone pulled out truth-or-dare cards.
One card read: Name the person you feel the most guilty about.
Tommaso glanced at me. Then he passed his glass to Alessia.
"The person I owe the most is Alessia."
Her eyes reddened.
"She's suffered with me for three years. From now on, I'm going to give her the life she deserves."
Every glass at the table went up.
Adriano grinned.
"Now that's what a husband should say."
Sitting across from them, I suddenly remembered the worst winter of Tommaso's startup.
Every morning at four a.m., I showed up at the central kitchen in Palermo to test recipes.
During the day, I ran between every shop in the city.
At night, I moonlighted as an instructor at a culinary school.
My hands blistered from scalding-hot baking trays, but I didn't dare take a day off.
Because he'd told me over the phone that he'd borrowed money from an American crime family, and his creditor had given him one month to pay it back.
That was what "suffering together" looked like.
I bore every ounce of hardship. They enjoyed everything that should have been mine.
It was Alessia's turn.
Her card read: What are you most afraid of losing?
She didn't answer. Just looked at Tommaso.
He read her instantly and took her hand, steady and sure.
His friends erupted with laughter.
"Do you even need to ask?"
"Alessia, relax. Tommaso loves you this much—nobody's taking him anywhere."
Someone realized what he'd just said and shot a furtive glance at me.
Mom pretended not to hear. Instead, she pulled out a stack of invitations.
"Dolce Segreto's new pastry shop opens the day after tomorrow. The whole family will be there. Sofia, you're coming too."
I opened the invitation.
It described Alessia as "the third-generation heir to the Caruso family pastry tradition."
And Bellavita—my employer—was listed as an opening partner.
I looked up.
"When did Bellavita agree to this?"
Adriano scoffed. "It hasn't been formally signed yet. Tommaso said you're about to become head of the Milan division. All you have to do is nod."
So they'd known about my transfer all along.
But I'd never told anyone in the family.
Tommaso explained flatly, "When your company ran a background check, they called Adriano to verify."
"So you've known I was going to Milan?"
"For a month."
"Then why did you tell me to cancel my ticket tonight?"
Alessia clutched the invitation tight.
"Because Dolce Segreto is applying to be a long-term supplier for Bellavita. You're my sister and the head of the Milan branch—people will say we got in through connections."
"And if I step aside, no one will say that?"
Mom held my hand the same way she used to when she talked me into buying Alessia a new dress as a kid.
"You've been doing so well at headquarters. Why fight for the director position? Alessia finally has something of her own. You can't force her to give it up."
I pulled my hand free.
"I earned that position. Why should I step aside for her?"
Dad finally set down his teacup.
"Because she's your sister."
"Stay tonight. Come with us to Milan tomorrow. Attend the opening. Tell the partners the recipes are a shared family heritage, then voluntarily withdraw from the transfer. That settles everything."
Tommaso reached into his briefcase and produced a kraft paper envelope.
"We've already drafted the statement. Take a look."
I didn't take it.
The envelope hit the edge of the table and a document slid out.
The first page was titled:
[Family Conflict of Interest Disclosure]
Below it was a supplier application form for Dolce Segreto.
Under "Technical Consultant," my name was printed clearly.
The application date: three years ago.
The exact day Tommaso first cried poor and convinced me not to come to Milan.
The last page was unsigned.
But tucked inside were my recipe lab records from the past three years.
Every single page stamped with Dolce Segreto's red corporate seal.
---
