Chapter 3

I emptied the lowest drawer of the safe, clearing out my personal seals and identification documents.

The study door swung open. Adriano strode in, reeking of gunpowder and bitter almond.

He looked exhausted, and his tie was crooked. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me standing next to the paper shredder.

"Something came up in the southern district last night. I stayed at the safehouse the entire night until everything was settled. That's why I didn't come back."

It was the first time in six months that he'd explained why he hadn't come home without me asking.

Many years back, someone had tried to assassinate Adriano by poisoning him with bitter almonds. Since then, he had found sweet-smelling cigars and scents repulsive.

For the past seven years, I'd been using an unscented hand lotion instead of my usual one. Yet now, he didn't even realize he reeked of Viviana's gun oil scent.

I unplugged the paper shredder and placed the brown document file on the desk, betraying no hint of emotion. I hummed in acknowledgment and said, "It must've been exhausting."

Adriano walked closer, and his gaze fell on the sealed document. He frowned, asking, "Why are you sealing away the master keys?"

He sounded anxious, and his fingers subconsciously went to his gun.

Unruffled, I returned a pen to its holder as I said, "It's the end of the year—time for our routine review of accounts and archiving. I'm updating the encryption codes to prevent discrepancies in the districts' financial records."

His tensed shoulders relaxed, and the wariness in his eyes gave way to his usual confidence.

"You can always ask the others to do things as trifling as this. You worry too much. I've had the butler handle every detail of tomorrow's wedding. It will definitely go smoothly this time."

Heels clacked in the corridor. Dressed in tactical gear, Viviana walked right into our private study without even knocking.

Adriano didn't seem to be bothered at all. He walked over to the hidden compartment behind the bookshelf, entered the password, and retrieved a gold-plated, customized Beretta.

Three years ago, he specifically had a Syissian gunsmith make that gun. A thorned rose, the symbol of a Famiglia's Donna, was carved onto the gun handle. He'd originally said it was meant to be my 30th birthday present.

Viviana came forward and took the gun. When she turned around, the metal clasp on her belt swept an old bronze pocket watch off a corner of the bookshelf.

The pocket watch dropped on the floor, and its glass face shattered. It was the pocket watch that was dented after Adriano took a bullet for me for the first time seven years ago.

Viviana looked down at the cracked glass, and a mocking smile formed on her lips.

"Oh, dear. Donna, the antiques in your study seem to be from a different time altogether. It's time you replace them, like how the Don uses only the newest firearms. Don't you agree?"

Adriano stepped between us and urged her flatly, "Take the gun and head to the shooting range. Stop dawdling."

He didn't even bother glancing at the broken pocket watch before following her out.

I crouched down and steadily picked up the watch, which had stopped ticking, and tossed it into the trash can along with the shards of glass on the floor.

In that moment, our seven-year promise shattered into pieces as well.