Chapter 3

Seraphina’s POV

Kael and I had built so many memories over the years, I’d lost count.

On his birthdays, I always baked him a cake—burned at the edges, lopsided, barely holding together. But it became our thing. Our ritual. And every time, without fail, he’d cup my face, smile like I’d just handed him the moon, and say it was the most special birthday he’d ever had.

There was the night we got caught in the rain, laughing as we ran through the empty streets, soaked to the bone. He grabbed my hand and didn’t let go until we reached his vineyard just outside the city. We curled up under a single blanket in the cellar, shoulders pressed together, hearts even closer.

And then there was the moment—maybe the hardest to remember now—when my parents asked me to leave with them. To start fresh in Italy.

I said no for so many times. All because I had a promise to keep.

I wanted to be here when I turned twenty-seven. For Kael, for us.

And Kael did take care of me since mom and dad left.

I thought that meant he loved me. I believed it meant he loved me.

But now? Now I see it clearly.

Maybe he liked me. Maybe he even enjoyed the way I looked at him like he was the center of my world.

But he never loved me.

That part? That sacred, real, terrifying part?

He’d always reserved that—for Vivienne.

…

As soon as I got back to my apartment, I started packing.

There wasn’t much to bring, really. Once I’d gone through my closet and pulled out the things I no longer wanted—half of which reminded me of him—I realized everything I truly cared about fit neatly into a single suitcase.

The rest? Clothes, keepsakes, gifts Kael had given me over the years—they were going to be sold or donated. Every cent would go to charity.

That part, at least, felt good. Clean.

I sat on the floor and let myself breathe for a second.

Then my phone rang. Lila. My best friend in New York. Also a fellow mafia heiress, though with far better taste in men.

“Hey girl!” she chirped, her voice spilling through the speaker like sunshine. “Ready to go shopping? Sorry we’re not doing a joint party this year—blame my boyfriend. He’s insisting I host it separately. I think he’s planning something. Maybe a proposal? I mean, it has been two years and he’s been acting all weird and romantic…”

She kept going, breezy and excited, until she finally paused—probably realizing I hadn’t said a word.

Lila knew me. She knew how much I loved Kael. How much I’d been looking forward to this birthday, thinking it would finally be our moment.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Her tone shifted. “Did Kael do something stupid again? I swear, if he—”

“It’s over, Lila,” I said quietly. “I’m done with him.”

The line went silent.

“Wait. What?” she asked, gentler now. “What happened? Weren’t you two… going to make it official on your this year’s birthday?”

I hesitated. For a second, I considered keeping it all to myself. But then I exhaled and said it out loud. “I’m not spending my birthday in New York this year. I’m flying to Italy to be with my mom and dad.”

“You’re leaving?”

Her shock wasn’t unexpected. She was one of the few people who knew just how many times I’d turned down my parents’ invitations to join them abroad.

I stayed—for Kael.

“Yes,” I said.

We didn’t speak for a while after that. Then Lila’s voice came through, soft and steady. “I respect your decision, babe. If that’s what makes you happy…”

“It will.”

She hesitated. “Are you going to tell him you’re leaving?”

She didn’t say his name.

“No,” I replied. “And I’d rather you didn’t either. I want to keep this quiet. I don’t need the drama.”

“Of course,” she promised. Then, a slight pause. “Wait—can you still come to my birthday party? I know Kael might be there and—”

“I’ll come,” I cut in gently. “You’re the only person I still care about here. And besides, I’ve had your gift picked out for months.”

After we hung up, I let myself sank onto the sofa, head tipped against the cushions, eyes fluttering shut.

I wasn’t sure how long I stayed like that before my phone buzzed again.

A message. From Kael.

“What’s your plan for your birthday party this year?”

I stared at the screen. Said nothing.

Then another ping.

“I might miss it this time. I’m getting married. Same day.”

My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

I typed one word. “Congratulations.”

And hit send.