The Abandoned Groom Married his Ex's Enemy!

While Giovanni was completing his master’s degree, Matteo Mercer died.

The accident happened at one of their worksites.

The majority called it an accident.

The investigators were less certain.

Equipment failure remained a possibility, as did human error. But inconsistencies in the records and questions about who had entered restricted areas shortly before Matteo’s death left enough doubt to keep the investigation open.

For a while.

Months passed without an arrest.

Leads dried up.

Eventually, the case went cold.

Giovanni inherited his father’s controlling interest in the company along with something considerably less useful.

Suspicion.

He couldn’t prove anyone had killed Matteo.

He also couldn’t prove they hadn’t.

So Giovanni learned to operate with both possibilities in mind.

He reviewed the company’s hiring practices and tightened access to sensitive projects. He documented responsibilities more carefully, not because he suddenly believed everyone around him was dishonest, but because he’d learned that mistakes and deliberate wrongdoing became equally hard to identify when nobody knew who was responsible for what.

One senior employee eventually challenged him during a meeting.

”Do you distrust everyone who works for you?”

Giovanni looked up from the report.

”No.”

”Then why all the controls?”

”Because honest people benefit from records too.”

The man fell silent.

Giovanni closed the folder.

”If something goes wrong, I don’t want ten people pointing at one another. I want to know what happened and where the process failed.”

That became the way he ran the company.

Trust people.

But leave enough accountability that trust didn’t depend on memory, excuses, or whoever spoke loudest afterward.

His father had been a good man.

Matteo had also been trusting.

He hadn’t received the education Giovanni had, and after taking over, Giovanni discovered several agreements his father had entered into without fully appreciating the risks hidden inside them.

He never blamed Matteo for that.

His father had sold his home and risked nearly everything to give his family another future.

Giovanni simply had no intention of wasting what that risk had created.

The construction company continued growing under him.

Then another problem became impossible to ignore.

Projects were being delayed for reasons that had surprisingly little to do with construction itself.

Materials arrived late. Equipment was stranded somewhere it shouldn’t have been, and entire crews occasionally lost productive hours waiting for deliveries promised days earlier.

During one particularly expensive delay, Giovanni looked through the reports spread across his desk.

”How much did we lose waiting for those deliveries?”

His finance officer gave him the figure.

Giovanni stared at it.

”And what would it cost to handle transportation ourselves?”

That question changed the company.

Instead of depending entirely on third-party providers, Giovanni gradually developed an internal logistics operation capable of supporting their own projects.

It began with what they needed.

Trucks.

Warehousing.

Scheduling.

Then the system became efficient enough that other companies began asking whether Mercer could handle their deliveries too.

Construction expanded into logistics.

One division strengthened the other.

Eventually, the company outgrew the narrow description of a construction business altogether.

Mercer Group.

The family name began appearing in the same business circles it had quietly disappeared from years earlier.

By then, Giovanni had enough of his own money to fulfill another promise.

He bought a property.

Then he showed the plans to Ysabella.

His mother stared at them for several seconds.

”What’s this?”

”Your restaurant.”

She looked up.

”Giovanni.”

”You said we didn’t have the money.”

”We do now.”

”I was joking.”

”I wasn’t.”

Ysabella touched the edge of the plans.

”You actually remembered that?”

Giovanni gave her a look.

Of course he remembered.

Unfortunately, she never got to cook there.

Ysabella had been feeling unwell for some time, although she repeatedly dismissed it as exhaustion. She worked long hours, still cooked whenever anyone visited, and insisted that resting too much only made people feel older.

By the time Giovanni convinced her to see a doctor, the illness had progressed much further than any of them realized.

She died before the restaurant opened.

Losing Matteo had left Giovanni with questions.

Losing Ysabella left him with none.

No investigation moved forward, and no records let him examine the truth until something finally made sense.

His mother was simply gone.

For months, the unfinished restaurant remained untouched.

Then Giovanni returned to it.

He walked through the empty dining room, studied the kitchen she’d never used, and opened the plans they’d once looked at together.

Construction resumed the following week.

He changed very little.

When the restaurant finally opened, one name appeared above the entrance.

Ysabella’s Steak House.

His mother would never stand in its kitchen.

But the restaurant would still be hers.

Augustus Vance knew some of what became of Giovanni Mercer.

Just not enough.

He knew the Mercers had sold their property and moved away immediately after Giovanni finished high school. Years later, he’d heard that Matteo’s gamble on a construction company had apparently succeeded.

But by the time Augustus seriously began considering Alexander’s future, Giovanni was no longer the boy living down the road.

Dominic was.

Dominic belonged to a wealthy family Augustus knew well. The Sebastians were hardly destitute, nor were their difficulties severe enough to show from the outside. Their businesses were still operating, their lifestyle remained unchanged, and their long-standing relationship with the Vances gave Augustus little reason to suspect that some of those businesses had quietly begun struggling.

Beyond that, the young man supposedly sent food whenever Augustus was ill, remembered his preferences, and remained visibly present in Augustus’s life.

Giovanni had become little more than the third childhood friend who’d moved away.

Victoria Sebastian certainly had no reason to remind Augustus otherwise.

What Augustus didn’t know was that Giovanni had never entirely stopped paying attention.

Distance had simply taught him to do it quietly.

Whenever the Vance name appeared in business news, Giovanni noticed.

When Alexander joined Vance Holdings, he noticed that too.

He watched from a distance as Alexander took on larger responsibilities until the boy he’d once known became a businessman increasingly difficult for anyone in their industry to ignore.

Sometimes Giovanni considered contacting him.

More than once, he even opened their old conversation.

Then he closed it again.

Money didn’t stop him.

By then, Giovanni had plenty.

That was precisely the problem.

Alexander had grown up surrounded by wealth. Returning simply because Giovanni could finally afford the same rooms, restaurants, and business circles would’ve felt meaningless.

So he concentrated on becoming someone whose name could stand on its own.

Mercer Group had to earn its contracts.

His decisions had to survive scrutiny.

And if he ever sat across from Alexander again, Giovanni wanted it to be because he’d earned the seat, not because they used to ride bicycles together.

Eventually, that opportunity came.

Not through friendship.

Through competition.

The ballroom was crowded with executives, government representatives, consultants, and bidders waiting for the results of one of the year’s largest infrastructure contracts.

Alexander Vance stood among them.

Giovanni recognized him immediately.

Years had changed him.

The teenager who’d once argued over bicycle races had disappeared beneath a well-cut suit and the composed bearing of someone already accustomed to having people wait for his decisions.

Giovanni stopped several steps away.

Alexander happened to turn.

Their eyes met.

Recognition came quickly.

”Gio?”

Dozens of people surrounded them, but for a moment, Giovanni heard none of them.

He walked over.

”Alex.”

Alexander looked him over once, then glanced toward the Mercer Group identification clipped discreetly to his jacket.

”So that’s where you’ve been.”

”Working.”

”Apparently.”

Before either could say more, the event coordinator returned to the microphone.

The room quieted.

Alexander turned toward the stage.

Giovanni did the same.

”The contract is hereby awarded to...”

A pause followed as the envelope was opened.

”...Mercer Group.”

Applause broke out around them.

Alexander looked sideways.

Giovanni met his gaze.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then Alexander extended his hand.

”Congratulations.”

Giovanni took it.

”Thank you.”

No resentment.

No excuse.

No reminder that Vance Holdings had also wanted the project.

Just the same Alexander he’d remembered, now standing across from him as an equal.

Giovanni released his hand.

He had spent years wondering what it would feel like to return.

And discovered that he wanted to do it again.