Eight years into my relationship with Moretti Group CEO Dante Moretti, I sat hidden in a confessional at St. Michael's Church and overheard him agree to marry another woman. One of the few friends who knew about us tried to talk him out of it. "Are you really going to let Elena Rossi take all the blame and spend the rest of her life hidden in the shadows? She's pregnant." Through the wooden confessional door, Dante's reply was calm and cruel. "I owe Matteo Romano my life. Elena loves me, not a title. She'll understand." His friend pressed him. "But you're about to marry Sofia Bellini. What if Elena can't take it?" Dante didn't hesitate. "She'll understand." I looked down at the wedding papers that had arrived two hours earlier, too stunned to think. The man who had once promised to marry me was now helping another woman choose her bridal bouquet. I had hidden in the shadows, quietly thrilled because I thought I was finally going to marry him. What a fool I'd been. Dante was wrong. I would not give the rest of my life to a man who would always expect me to understand.