Chapter 4

Dante was a man who lived by rules, but for Scarlett, he broke them again and again during the "Month of No Masters."

The night of the party, he never returned to the apartment.

I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Manhattan, and in a way, it was peaceful.

Time seemed to slow as I methodically erased all traces of us from the penthouse apartment.

I called the family's legal advisor on his encrypted line. Within forty-eight hours, I initiated the liquidation process for all our joint assets.

On the fifth day, Dante called, the roar of a sports car in the background.

He asked, breathless, where I had put the ivory-gripped Browning pistol engraved with the Corinni family crest.

At that moment, I was tossing a framed photo of us into the fireplace. I told him where it was in a cold, detached voice.

On the tenth day, he sent a man to pick up a few custom suits.

I went into the music room, where the limited-edition vinyl records that had once chronicled our shared tastes were stored. I snapped each one over my knee.

On the twentieth day, he sent roses from afar to wish me a happy birthday. I was busy watching the auction house take away our pair of custom-made pianos.

Those musical legends from Vienna. A famous composer and his wife were said to have played duets on them their entire lives, creating countless moving pieces.

On the thirtieth day, I had them dismantle the nursery I had secretly spent two months preparing. The soft cradle, the expensive pacifying toys, even the warm-toned wallpaper was scraped clean from the walls.

Just as the last truck was leaving the underground garage, the keypad on the door beeped.

Dante was back.

He was wearing a black shirt, slightly unbuttoned, the scent of perfume still lingering on him.

It was a scent I despised.

He opened his arms with a smile, assuming I was still powerless to resist him. "Aurora, the month is up. I'm back. Thanks for waiting."

I didn't throw myself into his arms as I usually did, whether to pout or to cry.

He laughed again. "So happy you're speechless, Aurora?"

"Missed me that much?"

I thought for a moment before answering. "No."

I wasn't happy, and I hadn't missed him.

The smile on his lips faltered. He tugged at his cufflinks in frustration and strode inside.

"Why does it feel so empty in here?"

His sharp eyes scanned the hallway, then his gaze landed on the recently emptied room.

A flicker of curiosity crossed his face as he walked quickly towards it.

"Finally decided to unlock it? You always kept it locked, said it was a secret." He chuckled, his tone flippant. "What, did you paint a room full of nudes of me in there?"

I couldn't ignore the dull ache in my heart.

It was my secret. A hidden shrine to a love that was dead.

Now, my love was gone. I had nothing left.

He pushed the door open, and his smile froze. "Huh? Why is it empty?"

Because you were too late.

Just as he was about to ask me what I wanted for dinner, his phone rang.

The sound echoed in the now-cavernous apartment.

And I heard the voice on the other end clearly, tinged with static, crying weakly.

"Dante! Help me! Those bastards from Brooklyn have me cornered at the docks... they have guns!"

Dante's expression changed in an instant, a visible panic washing over him.

I crossed my arms and watched him, waiting for his choice.

He didn't even hesitate. He turned and walked straight to the door.

As his hand closed around the doorknob, he looked back at me, his tone casual and entitled.

"Aurora, this is life and death. Give me one more day. July has thirty-one days, so it doesn't break the rules."

I found it darkly ironic. His rules usually demanded he drain every last second of those thirty days, but now, for her, he was scrambling to claw back just one more.

"Aurora, you have to wait for me! You have to wait one more day!"

This wasn't about a life being in danger. With the Corinni family's intelligence network, a few soldiers could have handled it. There was no reason for him to go personally.

There was only one answer. He wanted to go.

For her, he would fight for even a single day.

I watched him go, a soft, hollow laugh escaping my lips. "Goodbye."

The moment the door slammed shut, I was right behind him, suitcase in hand.

I would not wait another day. Not even another second.