The Don's Last Promise

Once the envelope was sealed, I set it quietly on the nightstand.

At one forty in the morning, the door opened.

Nathaniel came in first, cradling Victoria's ragdoll cat with exaggerated care.

Victoria followed right behind him, clutching an elegant leather cat carrier, looking terrified.

A rival gang hit near her apartment tonight. The security system triggered the alarm. Until her own detail is sorted, she stays here tonight."

He glanced at the master bedroom, lights still on.

In the guest room, my packed cardboard boxes were stacked neat and orderly.

Twelve large moving boxes, holding every trace of my seven years here.

Nathaniel spotted them the second he walked in.

He kicked the one blocking his path.

"Donating books to the church charity again?"

Every year around the holidays, I'd sort through my hardcovers and send them to the community library or the church.

He never cared. He never even bothered to read the recipient's name on the boxes.

So he never noticed that on every flap, I'd written three clear words in thick black marker: Audrey.

"Not donating."

I set the envelope down.

"Then what is it?"

The cat in Victoria's arms let out a delicate mewl, and Nathaniel immediately bent his head to check its paws.

Satisfied, he turned and instructed his assistant:

"Daniel, move these boxes to the storage room off the study."

Daniel stepped forward, crouched to lift one, and froze.

He hesitated, then said to Nathaniel:

"Don, the storage room's tight on space. I don't think it'll fit all these big boxes."

"Won't fit?"

Nathaniel didn't even look up.

"Then throw them all out."

For the Don who ran an entire underground empire, my personal belongings had never been worth a second of careful thought. Anything broken, anything discarded, was just decoration he could replace anytime with a black card.

He used to be my fiancé. Then he became my husband. And somewhere along the way, his priorities shifted, from me to someone else. His new assistant. His adopted sister.

The memories unfold slowly. I think back to three years ago, when he moved my white gardenias, three months in the growing, out to the public hallway, just to free up the sunniest spot for the tropical plant Victoria brought over.

By the time I got back from handling clan business out of town, the gardenias had long withered dead in the cold wind.

Later, he casually bought me an expensive bouquet of imported roses.

He stroked my hair with that perfunctory touch and said:

"Victoria's always so reckless. I have a responsibility to look after her, but I promise, I won't hurt you again."

But after that, the framed photos, the diffusers in the living room, the armchair I always sat in, one by one they got moved out of the sunniest spots.

Every time Victoria visited the estate, a little more of my presence in that house got eaten away.

Hearing Nathaniel's words, I set the last two books in the box, taped it shut, and looked up calmly.

"Throwing them all out is fine, right?"

Nathaniel raised a brow, surprised I hadn't argued at all.

"That's it? You're okay with it?"

I threw it back.

"Okay with what?"

He blinked, then laughed.

"Fair enough."

He'd assumed I'd blow up at him over something this small, another fiery tantrum.

Just then, Victoria walked to the guest room door with the cat.

She skimmed the boxes along the wall, her gaze landing on the name I'd written myself, "Audrey."

"Donna, you've packed so much... going on a trip?"

"Not far."

"How many days?"

I sliced the tape clean.

"Hard to say."

Nathaniel answered for me, casually.

"Where would she go? Two days at the estate down south at most. She's got a vacation villa there. Every time she gets in a mood, she runs off there to clear her head."

I'd never said I was going to the estate.

But in his eyes, my whereabouts and my decisions were always a script he'd already written.

Like the third year of our marriage, when my mother had a sudden emergency and needed major surgery, and he took it upon himself to book me a same-day round trip.

"There's an important gala tonight. Show your face, then fly right back."

By the time my mother came out of the OR, I barely had time to kiss her forehead before his bodyguards hustled me out.

That night, she developed severe post-op complications. They couldn't save her.

Later, Nathaniel donated a huge sum to the cemetery and gave her a grand, imposing funeral.

In his mind, that astronomical donation had bought off all the regret. The whole thing was settled, done with.

"Where's the storage room key?"

Nathaniel held out his hand.

I slipped the brass key off my ring and dropped it into his palm.

He took it, tucked it into his suit pocket without a thought.

And never noticed that my keyring now held only a single key. The front door.

Victoria leaned against the doorframe, smoothing the cat's fur, her voice sweet with just the right measure of manufactured concern.

"Don, cats are sensitive to unfamiliar places, and she's still shaken. I'm a little worried she'll get stressed—"

Nathaniel cut in immediately.

"Then she sleeps in the master bedroom."

Victoria looked surprised.

"But then Donna, she might—"

Nathaniel cut her off.

"She won't mind. As my Donna, protecting core members is our duty."

Nathaniel turned, bent down, and pressed an affectionate kiss to my forehead, his voice low and tender.

"I know you'll always be the best donna, won't you?"

I bent over, pushed the last box gently into the corner.

"Fine."

The tight furrow in his brow finally smoothed out completely.

In his eyes, I'd always be that Audrey who obeyed his every word.

Give me a kiss, or a little tender attention, and I'd swallow every grievance and every thorn right back down.

I turned and went to the bedroom to grab my coat.

On my way out, I heard Victoria's voice from the master bedroom.

"Don, why is half of Donna's closet empty? She's not actually angry, is she?"

Nathaniel was busy arranging a soft plush bed for the ragdoll cat, not even looking up.

"She gets like this sometimes."

"Give it a couple days. Once she's bored out there, she'll hang everything right back up."

I opened my phone and confirmed the lease on the new apartment.

Two days until I left.