Chapter 3

The next morning, I heard the lock turn.

Matteo entered just as I finished sealing the final cardboard box. Nora followed him, carrying several documents bound for the new headquarters.

They both stopped in the entryway when they saw the four neatly packed boxes in the living room.

Matteo had waited all night for my call of surrender. The impatience shadowing his face visibly eased when he saw the boxes.

Clearly, he thought my resolve the night before had been an act. He assumed I had come home, obediently packed my things, and was now desperate to move into the Vitale estate and claim the position he had approved for me.

“All right. You can stop sulking.”

He walked over and nudged one of the boxes with the toe of his polished shoe.

“As long as you stop throwing the entire family into chaos over every little concern, your place as Mrs. Vitale is secure. If you can keep this up, I’ll call you myself after the next meeting. Move everything to the estate today.”

Nora stood behind him, clutching a black leather folder. Her phone rested on top, its screen facing up.

“Please don’t be angry with Mr. Vitale about the other night, Miss Rossi. He only wanted you to understand that the fiancée of a family heir must remain composed. He called me because he knew I wouldn’t panic or keep asking questions. Once he knows you can do the same, he’ll call you too.”

She sounded sincere. Her fingertip moved slowly back and forth along the edge of her phone.

Six months ago, hearing her explain why she deserved his reassurance would have broken my control. I would have demanded to know why Matteo had called her instead of me. I would have reminded him that I was his fiancée, the one who had spent the night afraid he might never come home.

Now the two of them merely looked absurd.

I cut through a strip of packing tape and stood.

“Of course. I’m not angry. You should go on to headquarters. I’ll stay here and wait for the moving company.”

Matteo was plainly pleased by my obedience.

For the first time in weeks, he reached out as if to ruffle my hair the way he once had. I tilted my head and avoided his hand.

His fingers paused in midair. A moment later, he interpreted the resistance as my final trace of petulance and withdrew his hand in a good mood.

“That’s my good girl. Nora and I need to pick up a harbor contract from headquarters. There’s an opening reception on the executive floor tonight, and representatives from several partner families will be there.”

He adjusted one cuff link.

“Come straight over once the movers finish. Don’t be late, and don’t embarrass me in front of the elders again.”

“All right,” I answered softly.

Nora left first with the files. At the door, Matteo looked back at me one final time. When he saw me standing quietly beside the boxes, the last trace of suspicion left his eyes.

The door shut. Their footsteps faded down the hall.

The smile disappeared from my face.

I took out my phone and called an international shipping company.

“You can come now. Four boxes, all bound for New York. The computer and design portfolios need reinforced packaging. Insure everything at the highest level.”

I truly was moving.

But the only things coming with me were the computer I needed to earn a living, the design work I had created over the years, and the possessions that were genuinely mine.

I left every gown, piece of jewelry, and designer handbag Matteo had given me in the wardrobe. I did not take a single item of furniture he had purchased during our five years together.

In the study, I picked up a thin stack of papers from the desk.

On top was the cancellation agreement for our wedding venue, completed late the previous night. Beneath it were confirmations canceling the dress, guest accommodations, and family banquet.

The wedding had been scheduled for the following month. Under the contracts, I owed a substantial cancellation fee.

I paid it willingly.

The shredder started with a harsh mechanical whine. The wedding plans printed with Matteo’s name and mine disappeared between the rollers and emerged as strips that could never be reassembled.

Half an hour later, the shipping crew took the four boxes.

The apartment was finally empty.

I switched off the power, extended the handle of my single black suitcase, and looked one last time at the place where I had spent five years.

Then I closed the door and left the keys in the mailbox.

Matteo believed I was moving myself into the life he had permitted me to enter.

But as the evening sun spread across the elevated highway, I was already in a cab headed for the airport.

My phone lit up.

FIVE HOURS UNTIL DEPARTURE.