Chapter 4

My knees caught the corner of the sofa. I drew a sharp breath at the pain.

But Sia shook her head, tears still clinging to her lashes.

"Vito, forget it. This isn't Bianca's fault. I was just unlucky to run into someone like that."

Then she let out a low, soft whimper, small and fragile as a kitten, impossible not to pity.

But what had I done wrong?

A quiet laugh escaped me. I looked over at Vito.

"I'm curious, Vito. You've confirmed I hurt Sia. I'm sorry — I won't admit to something without evidence, and I have no interest in playing out this farce with you."

Five years of living side by side. I had thought that in Vito's heart, my character needed no proof.

Yet in front of Sia, five years amounted to nothing.

His favoritism was plain for anyone to see. And I was simply the one who had lost this game.

I didn't go back to the suite. I settled the bill, sent my friends a message to say goodbye, and left.

Back home, I sank into the sofa with overwhelming exhaustion, my mind drifting back to five years ago, to the day Vito was injured.

Members of a rival family shot him while he was protecting me.

I frantically tried to help stop the bleeding, tears uncontrollably streaming down my face.

He reached up to wipe away my tears, his gaze burning intensely, like a flame trapping me within.

"No crying."

I leaned closer to examine his wound, but he suddenly cupped the back of my neck and kissed me with wild, domineering passion.

When our lips parted, he murmured in a low, husky voice by my ear:

"I saved you. Now you're mine."

From that day on, I willingly surrendered, becoming his girlfriend in everything but name.

I had heard of Sia but never seen her.

All I knew was that she had been the one to leave, having quarreled with Vito and chosen to go abroad.

For five years, I believed our love was unbreakable.

When I lingered a moment too long on a rare yellow diamond at a jewelry exhibition, it was waiting on my vanity the next morning.

When I casually said I loved the scent of lavender, he planted an entire field of it for me in the estate.

He once told me I was a gift from Cupid himself.

But the moment Sia returned, he began to doubt me.

None of it matters anymore.

I'm done with him.

I called a housekeeping company and had everything sorted and packed.

Vito didn't have much here. His home was next door, and when we started living together he had never really moved in — just brought over the things he used day to day. Returning them filled no more than a small cardboard box.

I let myself into his house, gathered every photograph of me and every gift I had ever given him, and left his key on the table.

I was almost out of the door when I remembered he still had a key to mine.

I called him. He declined it, again and again.

I didn't try a third time. I called a locksmith instead and had the locks changed on the spot.

The following morning, I boarded a private plane to Sicily with all my luggage.

...

Vito drove home and saw the key on the table, along with a cardboard box neatly packed with his belongings.

He threw on his coat and rushed to the neighboring villa, only to discover he could no longer open the door.

The lock had been changed.

Vito's heart pounded faster and faster as he pulled out his phone to message Bianca.

Meanwhile, at the Cathedral of Monreale, Sicily.

In the dressing room, I wore a custom haute couture wedding gown of pure white lace, with a diamond tiara adorning my head.

Just as I was about to take Papa's arm and walk toward the chapel, the phone screen on the vanity suddenly lit up.

About what happened yesterday, Sia said she won't hold it against you. Go apologize to her properly again.

Be a good girl and come home today. As compensation, I'll take you to pick out that yacht you had your eye on last month.

From: Vito Carlisi

Looking at these messages, I couldn't help but laugh softly.

And here he was, thinking one yacht would be the answer.

Without the slightest hesitation, I blocked Vito's number and tossed my phone back into my bag.

Time ticked by, minute by minute.

Vito stared at his phone screen, still waiting for a message from Bianca that never came.

The feeling of unease grew stronger and stronger. He vaguely sensed a voice telling him:

You are about to lose something precious.

Just then, Lucas's call came through, his tone urgent.

"Vito, did you see the photo I sent you?"

"Bianca is marrying into the Moretti family!"