Chapter 3

Adrianna’s POV

The birthday party was in three days now. Everything in the house was either packed or thrown away. I wasn’t worried about Marco finding out—he barely came home anymore.

I still had a few things left at the casino. I didn’t want to go back, but I went anyway.

The moment I walked in, something felt off. Staff were gathered in small groups, whispering.

I stepped closer. A girl I knew waved me over. “Adrianna! You’re finally back. Where have you been?”

“What’s going on?”

“The boss is back.”

Marco.

She nudged me. “Go to your office before he sees you slacking.”

To everyone here, I was just his assistant. Nothing more.

I shook my head. “I’m not worried about that. Actually… I won’t be working here anymore.”

Her eyes widened. “Then where are you going? The boss treats you pretty well. You’ve been with him longer than anyone.”

I smiled faintly. “I’m going home.”

“I thought you were—” She stopped herself.

Everyone knew my past. Marco made sure of that. The orphan he took in. The girl he “protected.”

“I found my real family not long ago. And now—”

“What family?”

I turned.

Marco stood a few steps away, his brows drawn together.

“Nothing,” I said lightly.

He started toward me—but then a pair of arms wrapped around his. “Babe, what are you talking about?”

Bianca.

I’d seen her face all over the tabloids, but this was the first time we stood in the same room.

Soft curls, sharp eyeliner, a dress that clung just enough to draw every eye.

I studied her quietly. And Bianca studied me back. She looked at me because she knew what I was to Marco.

I looked at her… Because I couldn’t wait to see that confidence shatter when she learned the truth.

“Who is this?” she asked, smiling at Marco, though her eyes were already on me—sharp, taunting.

“My assistant. Adrianna.” Marco didn’t disappoint.

His gaze flickered toward me, almost pleading—don’t make a scene, just accept it.

Bianca tugged lightly on his arm, pulling his attention back. “Won’t you introduce me to everyone?”

The way he looked at her… the softness in his expression.

I thought I had accepted it—that he never loved me. But seeing it like this still hurt.

“Bianca Conti,” he said smoothly, “my fiancée.”

Whispers broke out instantly.

“The Conti heiress?”

“Our boss is marrying into the Conti?”

“They look perfect together…”

Bianca met my eyes, then walked toward me. “Adrianna?” she said, smiling.

“Yes.”

“I’ve heard about you.” Her smile deepened, but there was no warmth in it—only something cold, sharp. “Now that I’ve met you… I have to admit, you’re not what I expected.”

Her gaze swept over me, slow and deliberate. “Too ordinary. The way Marco described you, I thought you’d be prettier.”

I said nothing.

“You don’t mind, do you? I’m very straightforward.” She tilted her head slightly, still smiling. “But really, it’s not a bad thing. At least now I know you’re not a threat. We can be friends… right?”

Friends.

I had underestimated just how arrogant Bianca was.

But the higher someone stands… the harder they fall.

So I smiled. “My pleasure.”

For a split second, something in her expression tightened—then she smirked and turned away, slipping her arm back through Marco’s.

He glanced at me once, then turned back to her, smiling like nothing else mattered.

“Is this a Cartier ring?” One staff asked

“Silly,” anther staff added lightly. “It’s worth a hundred times more than Cartier.”

“When’s the wedding, boss? Where are you holding it?”

The whispers around them never stopped.

And slowly, some of those whispers drifted toward me.

I caught the looks, the smirks and the fingers pointed in my direction.

“And you thought that orphan was the boss’s girlfriend?”

“I told you—she was never enough for him.”

Orphan. That word—I’d heard it so many times it almost felt like my name now.

I don’t know how I endured it before—letting them gossip, letting them praise him like he was some perfect man while I was nothing more than something he picked up out of pity.

I bit down hard, tasting blood.

Not now. If I broke now, it would be too easy for them, too easy for Marco.

I turned and walked away, letting their voices fading behind me.

…

I didn’t stop until I reached my office. It was smaller than I remembered.

I walked to the desk and picked up a page filled with my notes and plans.

How foolish I’d been—to think Marco was the one, to believe we were building something real.

I tore the paper in half. Then I swept everything off the desk, papers scattering across the floor.

I picked up the photo frame—Marco and me standing side by side, one of the few things he allowed me to keep, and threw it into the trash.

It hit hard, glass cracking. A few shards bounced out and scraped my leg.

It stung. But it was nothing compared to what I’d been through these past few days.

“What the hell happened in here?” Marco pushed the door open.

I didn’t stop—I kept tossing papers and files into the trash. “Just cleaning up,” I said, dropping another stack in.

He grabbed a file from the bin. “Why are you throwing this away? This is the contract for— If this is about Bianca being here, stop this right now. I already told you I have to—”

Before he could finish, I picked up the handmade mug he gave me when I said yes to help him with his business—and threw it in.

It hit with a dull crack.

Marco stared at it. He knew that mug. He knew I’d kept it for all these years.

And now, I’d thrown it away without a second thought.

His voice turned sharp. “Adrianna… the handmade mug I gave you.”

I couldn’t stand being in the same room with him anymore. Even the air felt suffocating.

I turned for the door. “Since you’re here, I might as well say it now—I quit.”

Marco’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist and yanking me back. “Adrianna!”

I tried to pull free, but his grip was too tight. I stopped struggling and looked straight at him. “What?”

“I told you everything already. What is all this supposed to mean? You—”

The door opened. Bianca stepped in.

The moment she appeared, Marco released my hand and took a step back.

“Marco, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just my assistant—”

“I quit,” I cut in.

“I won’t allow,” Marco snapped.