I Was the Don’s Stand-In BrideChapter 1

“Sofia Santoro,” my brother said into the line, his voice edged with suspicion and concern, “did someone cross you?”

He paused, as if weighing every breath I took. Even with miles between us, he could hear it—the tension I tried so hard to bury beneath indifference.

I let out a soft laugh, light on the surface, though bitterness coiled tight around my throat. “No. Nothing like that. I’ve just… made up my mind. If I’m being married off either way, does it truly matter who ends up beside me?”

“You’re serious?” His tone dropped, gentler now but still probing. “Sofia, if there’s trouble, you don’t have to carry it alone. This rush—this sudden willingness—what changed? You never wanted this life.”

Because I never did. My loyalty, my heart—it had all been handed to Rocco long before duty ever entered the conversation. But loyalty meant nothing when you were only ever a substitute. After years of secrecy, waiting in shadows, loving a man who kept one foot elsewhere, I finally saw the truth. I was never the choice. Just the placeholder.