Chapter 5

Chloe said she needed to go home to prepare for dinner and left the casino early. Alessandro, uncharacteristically, handed over his territory's affairs to his men.

He bundled me into his black Maserati, saying he wanted to get me a belated birthday present.

He took me to a boutique on the corner and picked out a cashmere scarf, a simple, dark grey style.

"Birthday present," he said, handing me the scarf. "I was going to take you to pick one out yesterday, but I really couldn't get away from that deal at the docks."

A scarf that cost barely a hundred dollars.

I looked down at the scarf, suddenly remembering a post Chloe had made.

At a Sotheby's auction last year, Alessandro had spent a hundred thousand dollars on a vintage Cartier emerald necklace, saying it was "for an important lady."

The next day, that necklace appeared around Chloe's neck.

This morning, as she sat on his lap, that same necklace dangled against her chest.

With Chloe, he never held back.

I stared at the scarf and managed a smile. "Thank you."

It didn't matter. I would be gone soon, and I would never have to face this duplicitous man again.

When we arrived at Chloe's apartment, I immediately noticed a pair of matching couple's mugs in the open-plan kitchen. They looked custom-made.

Alessandro strode in as if he owned the place, casually grabbing the black mug to pour himself a glass of water.

When he looked up and saw me staring, his movement faltered. He quickly put the mug back.

"I thought these were for guests. Grabbed the wrong one."

I said nothing, just took off my coat and walked into the living room.

The apartment was impeccably decorated, clearly renovated recently. Corinthian-style doorframes, imported marble floors, and a small Basquiat hanging on the living room wall.

I counted four security cameras at a glance.

"Sienna, come in, have a seat," Chloe called out from the kitchen. "I just moved in this past spring. I haven't had you over yet."

"One and a half million, paid in cash," she said with a casual smile. "Alessandro was with me when I looked at it. He said the security in this building is top-of-the-line for Manhattan. Guarantees no one from a rival family can touch you."

Alessandro's expression changed instantly.

"The family had just finished laundering a sum of money. I was thinking of setting up a safe house in the city center, so I helped her vet the place."

He had been handling dirty money around that time. I had once accidentally glimpsed a massive outflow of one and a half million from his private account.

I'd casually asked him where the money went. His excuse was, "One of my guys on the street needed an emergency loan. It'll be paid back with interest."

I never doubted his words and later forgot all about it. Because the old me had given this man my unconditional trust.

Now, I understood everything. All the pieces fit together perfectly.

Dinner was prepared by the private chef Chloe had flown in from Sicily. It was very authentic.

Chloe deliberately pushed an elegant tray onto the prominent coffee table. "Sienna, could you please pass me a napkin from over there?"

My gaze swept over the tray, and I saw a cufflink lying on it.

I recognized it. It was from a pair I had bought him seven years ago, the day he officially became a Soldato, with money I had saved for half a year from my painting.

Next to the cufflink, a small, torn foil wrapper lay quietly.

Apple-flavored. And used.

"Oh my," Chloe exclaimed, touching her forehead with a shy, sweet smile. "I'm so sorry, Sienna. My boyfriend and I were in such a hurry last night, we forgot to clean up."

"I hope you don't mind."

Chloe feigned embarrassment, covering her mouth, but her eyes were brimming with pride, as if to taunt me: See, Sienna? He's been mine for a long time.

In that instant, whatever image I had left of Alessandro rotted away completely.

Alessandro's ears flushed, his panic palpable. He cleared his throat. "Let's not talk about this. Let's eat."

Just then, the screen of my phone, which was on the dining table, lit up. It was a text from my gallery owner.

[So you've really decided to have your exhibition in Paris and settle there? That's fantastic! I've already rented an apartment for you by the Seine.]

Alessandro's hand shot out and snatched my phone, his eyes glued to the screen.

As our eyes met, I saw his pupils contract.

"What is this?"