Chapter 3

"I'm giving you three days. Get rid of this woman."

Isabella yanked her hand from Dante’s. The sweet, clinging fiancée was gone.

Clearly, the mafia princess had little patience for her husband-to-be's affairs.

She strode out on her high heels.

As she passed me, her purse brushed against my cut hand. Hard.

A sharp pain shot through me. I bit my lip to keep from screaming.

After she left, Dante closed the office door.

He stared at me, his eyes devoid of their old warmth.

"Antonio said you want to resign? I don't approve. But after what happened today, I'll give you two options."

He walked to the bar and poured himself a whiskey. He didn't pour one for me.

"Option one: you pay the Rossi family fifty million dollars for the damage to their name."

I stared at him.

"What?"

"Last night's scandal hurt both of our families' reputations," he said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Someone needs to take responsibility."

"I didn't do anything!"

"Your presence there was the mistake." He took a sip of his drink. "Option two: you apologize. Publicly. To Isabella. To my capos. You admit you seduced me. You swear you'll disappear. In return, I'll transfer you to my estate on the West Coast. You can continue your work there."

I felt my blood run cold.

Work?

He just wanted to lock me away forever.

He wanted me to apologize... to say everything between us was my fault...

"Are you insane, Dante?" My voice shook. "You want me to apologize? For what? For loving you? You were the one who—"

"Choose, Elara."

His eyes flickered for a second, but then they turned to ice again.

"And if I refuse?"

He put down his glass and walked toward me.

"Then you'll lose everything. Even if you leave me, I'll make sure you can never work in this country again." He stopped in front of me. "You know I have that power."

I stared at him, this man I thought I knew.

"I'll take the second option," I said through gritted teeth. "But this is the last time."

"Family meeting. Tomorrow, 3 PM."

...

The next day, I stood in the Costello family meeting room.

About a dozen men in expensive suits, the core of the family, sat around a long table.

Isabella sat to Dante's right, a victorious smile on her face.

"Gentlemen," Dante stood up. "We are gathered today to resolve an...unpleasant misunderstanding."

His eyes met mine. "Elara, please."

I took a deep breath and stood.

"I... I want to apologize for what happened," my voice was a whisper. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have been there."

"Louder," Isabella commanded. "Let everyone hear you."

I clenched my fists.

"I apologize for my actions," I raised my voice, the words tasting like ash. "I was the one who pursued Mr. Costello. I acted inappropriately. It was a mistake, and I couldn't control myself."

The room was silent.

A few of the old men exchanged glances. Some shook their heads, others sneered.

"I promise... I will never bother this family again," I forced the words out. "I will leave. And I will not be back."

"Good," one of the white-haired men nodded. "It's not a crime for a young person to make a mistake, as long as they learn from it."

I remembered two years ago, in this very room, Dante had shown them a Renaissance painting I'd restored.

"Elara is a genius," he'd said then. "She can bring dead art back to life."

The pride and admiration in his eyes back then felt like a cruel joke now.

"Meeting adjourned," Dante announced.

As everyone left, Isabella brushed past me. Her shoulder knocked into mine. She leaned in, her perfume thick and suffocating. "Good girl," she whispered. "Next time, cry. It makes the act more convincing."

Soon, only Dante and I were left.

"Does the cut still hurt?" he asked, gesturing to my bandaged hand.

I stared at him, unable to believe he had the nerve to ask.

"Are you pretending to care?"

"After you finish your projects, I'll give you a week of paid leave. Then you can pack for the West Coast estate." He ignored my question. "Get some rest."

"Thank you for your mercy, boss," I sneered. "Can I go now?"

He nodded.

I turned to leave, but stopped at the door.

"Dante," I said, looking back at him. "Do you remember the 'Sleeping Venus'? I spent three months restoring it, and you said it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen."

His expression tightened.

"I finally get it." A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "You never loved me. You loved what I could do. I fix your broken things. I bring them back from the dead."

I met his eyes. "The difference, Dante, is that a painting can't love you back. And it can't cause you trouble."

I didn't wait for his answer. I just walked out.

Back in my apartment, I started packing.

I threw everything related to Dante into a trash bag.

The books he gave me, the photos we took, even the files from my work projects.

I was cutting all ties with my past.

The next day, I stood at the grand opening of a new hotel funded by the Costello Group.

It was my last project before leaving New York. I was in charge of the restoration and display of all the hotel's art.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the host's voice boomed. "Please welcome our chief art consultant, Miss Elara Vance, to introduce the hotel's art collection."

I took a deep breath and walked onto the stage.

This was the peak of my career, and also my farewell.

"Thank you all," I adjusted the microphone. "Tonight, we are thrilled to present..."

But a sudden stir rippled through the crowd.

Guests started whispering, giving me strange looks.

Confused, I looked back at the large screen behind me.

My heart stopped.