Chapter 3

The elevator opened just as I reached it.

My mother stepped out carrying a carefully wrapped box, her coat still unbuttoned.

“Elena, am I late? They said the party had been delayed.”

She looked past me at the ballroom being dismantled.

“Has Mrs. DeLuca arrived? I brought her something.”

The box held a rare set of opera recordings she had spent weeks finding. She knew Mrs. DeLuca loved opera. She also knew the woman had never agreed to meet us.

“The party has been canceled,” I said.

Her smile faltered. “Did something happen?”

Luca approached from behind me.

“Teresa, there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“That’s all right,” she said quickly. “Family business comes first. I’ll explain to our guests. Please don’t argue with Elena over this.”

“Mom, nothing happened to the DeLucas.”

She turned to me.

“The engagement was fake.”

Her eyes moved from me to the flowers and place cards being carried out of the ballroom.

“This was my fault,” Luca said. “I allowed them to bet on whether Elena would believe I intended to marry her.”

My mother looked down at the gift in her arms.

“You knew, and you still let her arrange all of this?”

“I thought she would learn the truth before the guests arrived.”

“But she didn’t.”

Luca looked uncomfortable.

“I’ll make this right. When the time is appropriate, I’ll arrange a formal engagement.”

Bianca approached with the remaining place cards.

“Please don’t worry, Teresa. Luca loves Elena. Everyone simply took the joke too far. He’ll give her something better.”

My mother looked at her. “You knew?”

“I knew they were teasing her, but I told them not to go too far.”

“You ordered the crest removed,” I said.

Color rose in Bianca’s face. “A false ceremony cannot display the DeLuca emblem. I was protecting the family.”

My mother finally understood why none of Luca’s relatives had come.

She had memorized their titles so she would not embarrass me and checked Mrs. DeLuca’s gift repeatedly.

They had never intended to give her a seat.

Marco, already drunk, muttered from the bar, “She truly thought Mrs. DeLuca would attend for a Rossi.”

Luca knocked the glass from his hand. It shattered across the floor.

“Apologize.”

Marco sobered instantly.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Rossi. I’m sorry, Elena.”

Luca pointed toward the exit.

“Leave New York tonight. Don’t return until I call for you.”

Marco went pale but obeyed.

Startled by the broken glass, my mother tightened her hold on my hand.

“Don’t punish him because of me. He’s drunk. I won’t take it personally.”

Even now, she was trying to protect everyone else.

For years, whenever the DeLuca family hurt me, she urged me to understand Luca’s position. She feared one wrong word would make it harder for them to accept me.

“You don’t need to excuse him,” I said.

She studied my face and finally noticed how calm I was.

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to go home.”

“I’ll take you,” Luca said.

“You still have guests.”

“Someone else can handle them.”

My mother squeezed my hand.

“Go talk to him. I can leave on my own.”

Still holding the gift, she stepped into the elevator. Before the doors closed, she stopped them.

“Elena.”

“Yes?”

“If you’re tired of waiting, don’t force yourself to stay.”

She released the button.

I watched the floor numbers descend.

Luca came to stand beside me.

“Bianca will apologize to you and your mother.”

“And then?”

“We go home and settle this between us.”

He placed my coat over my shoulders with the same familiar care he had shown a hundred times before.

“I’m driving you myself.”

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

The project car would reach the rear entrance of my apartment in fifty-two minutes.

On the drive home, Luca kept his attention on the road.

“Nothing about tonight will get out. We’ll collect the photographs and remove the security footage.”

“What about Bianca?”

His hands tightened around the steering wheel.

“She shouldn’t have removed the crest or embarrassed your mother. But she grew up beside me, and her father once saved mine. Handling her takes time.”

I had heard that explanation too often. Whenever Bianca crossed a boundary, Luca reminded me that she meant no harm.

We did not speak again.

When we reached my building, his car remained outside until the elevator began to rise.

Inside the apartment, I changed out of my dress and packed a suitcase with clothes, my laptop, my research notes, and my passport.

Dr. Keller’s project documents were still in my desk. The rare-disease research program in Zurich would last two years. I had rejected it three months ago because Luca was taking control of the ports and I had promised to remain beside him.

I placed the documents in my suitcase, removed the fake engagement ring, and left it on the nightstand.

At eight twenty-eight, the project driver called.

“Dr. Rossi, I’m at the rear entrance.”

I took the service elevator downstairs. Two DeLuca guards sat in a car near the main lobby, watching the front doors. Neither noticed the gray sedan leaving through the rear alley.

Luca called twice on the way to the airport. I ignored him.

I know you’re hurt. Give me one night, and we’ll fix this together.

Dr. Keller waited at the terminal entrance and handed me my boarding documents.

“You can still turn back,” she said.

“I won’t.”

At the gate, Luca continued sending messages. He promised that everyone involved would be punished and that the real engagement could happen before the port vote.

He was still trying to repair a future I had already decided to leave.

I did not reply. I removed the SIM card from my phone, dropped it into the nearest trash can, and boarded the plane.

Minutes later, the plane lifted from the runway. The lights of New York disappeared beneath the clouds.

This time, I did not look back.