Chapter 1

“Say that again.”

Dante slowly straightened. A few seconds ago, he had been sitting beside me on the sofa, asking why I looked upset. Now his expression had gone completely still.

I shifted toward the other end of the couch as the lines only I could see continued floating across my vision.

【Finally scared?】

【She doesn’t actually think Dante has been spoiling her for three years, does she? She’s an ordinary woman living with the Don of the Romano family. If she didn’t look a little like Bianca, he would’ve gotten rid of her long ago.】

【Bianca comes back to New York next month. That’s when the real show starts.】

My fingertips went cold. Dante watched me. “What did you just say?”

“I said I won’t check your phone anymore, and I won’t ask you to keep your location on all the time.” I avoided his eyes.

“You don’t have to tell me where you’re going or who you’re meeting. If you’re busy at night, you don’t need to come home just because of me.” The room went quiet.

“And what brought this on?”

“People in a relationship should give each other some space.”

Even to me, the words sounded ridiculous. In three years with Dante, I had barely given him any privacy.

I wanted to know where he was going, expected updates if his plans changed, and always asked about women I didn’t recognize at his private dinners. Dante was the head of one of New York’s most feared mafia families.

No one questioned his movements. No one except me. And he had never truly stopped me.

I used to think he liked it. Maybe I had simply thought too highly of myself. More comments appeared.

【Dante hates how controlling she is. He only tolerated it because Bianca wasn’t around.】

【Once Bianca comes back, she’d better know when to disappear. The With me, Dante remembered that I hated strong coffee, had the bedroom kept warmer because I was always cold, and sometimes left whatever he was doing because I couldn’t sleep.

But no one else in New York described Dante Romano as gentle. To them, he was Don Romano.

I used to believe that meant I was special. But it was easier to believe I resembled a woman he loved than to believe a man like Dante Romano had truly chosen someone like me.

Once that thought entered my mind, every kindness from the past began to look different.

A year ago, the Romano Foundation held its annual charity gala.

Dante had promised to take me, but a family matter changed his plans at the last minute, so he went alone.

When he went thirty minutes without answering me, I video-called him. He picked up. I asked where he was and who was with him.

A few minutes later, he walked out onto the terrace alone and turned the camera around so I could see for myself.

It was freezing, but he stayed outside in his formal suit talking to me for almost two hours before leaving the gala early and coming home before midnight.

Now those comments were telling me all that patience had been because of another woman. Bianca DeLuca.

The woman Dante had known since childhood, and the woman returning to New York next month. I forced down the ache in my chest.

“I was too insecure before. I won’t be like that anymore. You don’t have to cancel plans for me or rush home because I can’t sleep.” Dante studied me for a long moment.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” His jaw tightened.

“You can do whatever you want,” I said. “You’re free.”

Dante went silent. Then he stood, grabbed the jacket from the chair, and headed for the door. I blinked. “You’re going out?” He stopped without turning around.

“Didn’t you just tell me I can go wherever I want?” I had no answer. Dante gave a low laugh.

“Then I won’t interrupt you while you learn how to be an understanding girlfriend.”

The door shut behind him. I stayed where I was. Once, after I got angry over a last-minute business trip, he came home at two and went straight to the bedroom before taking off his coat. But that night, he didn’t come back. The comments immediately came alive.

【He finally had enough.】

【Bianca is coming back. Of course he doesn’t want to keep pretending with the substitute anymore.】

I stared at the closed door as something heavy settled in my chest. At least now I knew what to do. For the next month, I only needed to stay quiet and stop clinging to Dante. Once Bianca returned, I would leave on my own. Maybe after three years together, he would let me go.

I barely slept, so the next morning I got up early and started clearing things out of the living room. There were souvenirs from our trips, photographs on the shelves, and a set of pictures from Coney Island two years ago. I picked up one frame.

Dante wore a cheap paper crown I had forced onto his head, looking deeply unimpressed while I leaned against his shoulder, laughing so hard my eyes were almost closed. It used to be my favorite picture. Now I couldn’t see much reason to keep it. I had just placed it in a cardboard box when the electronic lock clicked behind me.

The door opened, and Dante walked in with the cold morning air at his back. His black shirt was open at the collar, and he looked as though he hadn’t slept. Then he saw the box at my feet. He stopped, looked down at the photographs inside, and slowly raised his eyes to me.

“What are you doing?”