Chapter 4

The air in the room went dead.

Wyatt hated my calm reaction.

He hated losing control over me.

He scanned me.

His eyes locked onto my left hand.

His brow snapped together. "Where is your ring? Why aren't you wearing it?"

My mouth opened to speak.

His phone rang again.

Sarah's custom ringtone.

Wyatt picked up instantly.

The girl's whiny, soft voice leaked from the speaker. "Boss, where's my dessert? I've been waiting forever."

He had just glared at me.

Now, he melted instantly.

His eyes went incredibly soft. "On my way. Be a good girl and wait for me."

He hung up.

He grabbed the pink dessert box without a second thought.

He looked at me.

His eyes turned impatient and dismissive again.

He adjusted his suit jacket. He dropped a heavy, absolute order. "We'll talk about the ring tonight. I'll be back tonight. Wait for me at home."

With that, he marched out and slammed the door.

The door shut tight.

I didn't scream.

I didn't even look back.

I walked to my closet.

I threw on a simple black trench coat.

I took zero luggage.

I drove alone to an abandoned church on the outskirts of Chicago.

We survived our first major hit there.

Under that broken cross, we made a vow.

We would visit every anniversary.

We would never forget where we started.

I pushed the doors open.

The church was totally empty.

I sat on the front wooden pew.

I pulled out my phone.

[I am at the church. Waiting for you.]

This was his final chance.

The absolute last chance of his life.

One hour later.

Wyatt replied. [Emergency sit-down with the capos. Almost done. Wait.]

Another hour passed.

Instagram popped up with a special notification. A photo.

Sarah's legs wrapped in sheer black tights.

Propped up right on Wyatt's desk.

The pink French dessert box sat next to her boots.

Caption: [Dessert just tastes better on the Don's desk.]

I stared at the screen with a dead face.

I tapped the screen.

I gave her a like.

Dusk fell.

The sunset completely faded.

The church sank into a dead, silent dark.

My phone finally rang.

It was Wyatt.

He sounded exhausted.

"Alessia. Sorry, I can't make it. The old capos are pressing Sarah about last night. I have to stay. I need the Famiglia to know I protect what's mine. No one disrespects her."

He declared his protection so righteously.

He dropped his heavy Don command. "Go home first. I promise. I will make this up to you tomorrow."

I listened to his pathetic lies.

He wrapped them up in "Famiglia politics" and "protecting the weak".

I let out a soft laugh.

I whispered into the phone. "Okay. I understand."

No tears. No fights.

I just hung up.

I looked at my screen.

My hands were perfectly steady.

I blocked his number.

I blocked his texts.

I blocked every single social media account.

One by one.

I stood up and walked to the altar.

I picked up a pen.

I wrote my final message in the yellowed guestbook.

[I'm gone, Wyatt. We will never see each other again.]

I turned around and walked out of the church.

I left twenty years of memories behind.

I left the man in that swirling dust forever.

He once swore his life to me.

A black Maybach was already parked outside.

My grandfather's underboss opened the car door.

He bowed his head with deep respect. "Donna Alessia. The jet is ready."

I slid into the leather seat.

I stared out the window with cold eyes.

Chicago faded into the distance.

Goodbye, Wyatt.

We rule our own empires now.

We owe each other nothing.