Chapter 3

Before I could answer, Aido cut in.

"My former private secretary," he said flatly. "She stayed here for a while to handle business more efficiently."

My fingers tightened around the suitcase handle until the metal dug painfully into my palm. It wasn't the first time I'd heard something like that, but every time felt like someone was twisting a dull blade into an old wound until I couldn't breathe.

Before I could say anything, Leo stepped out from behind me. He looked up at Aido, his voice soft but unnaturally clear.

"Good evening, Don Derocchi."

Aido went completely still. He stared at Leo as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

"What did you call me?"

I felt a bitter smile tug at my lips. Wasn't this what he'd always wanted? From the moment Leo learned to speak, Aido had corrected him over and over.

Never Papa, never Father, always "Don Derocchi"—Aido had drilled that into him from the start. Now Leo was using it by choice.

Something complicated flickered across Aido's face. He grabbed my wrist, his grip hard, his voice low and strained. "Give me some time."

He stared at me. "I'll explain it to him."

I glanced down at his hand on my wrist.

"Isabella's waiting for you," I said. "Let go."

He seemed to snap out of it and slowly released me. I took Leo's hand and started walking away.

"Wait."

Aido hurried back to the car, pulled a cake box from the back seat, and held it out to Leo. "Merry Christmas."

Leo's eyes lit up instantly.

"This is the limited Christmas cake from the artisan bakery on East Street, no. 98. Aido had someone reserve it for me two days ago." Isabella looked at Leo, her smile laced with barely concealed mockery.

"Signorina Conti, you should take your son to places like that more often. Oh, don't worry. Compared to your generous salary from the Derocchi family, it won't cost you much."

Leo was too young to catch the sarcasm. He bit his lip, then asked me quietly, "Mamma, can I have just one bite?"

I wanted to refuse, but seeing the hope in his eyes, I smiled and nodded. I opened the cake box and cut a small piece, but the moment I caught the sweet scent, my smile froze.

It was pistachio.

"Don't eat it!"

I snatched the fork from Leo's hand so fast I barely registered my own movement, but it was already too late. He'd swallowed that bite and was clutching his throat now, bending over as violent coughs racked his small body.

Aido's face darkened, his voice sharp. "Viola, what the hell are you doing?"

I pulled Leo into my arms and looked up at him, my eyes burning.

"He's allergic to nuts," I said, each word deliberate. "Didn't you know that?"

Aido froze. Several seconds passed before he spoke in a low voice. "I didn't know."

That phrase again. Leo leaned against me, his face pale, the light in his eyes slowly dimming.

"It's okay, Mamma," he said, his voice trembling faintly. "It's normal that Don Derocchi wouldn't know."

In that moment, the last shred of hesitation inside me disappeared completely. I picked Leo up and turned to leave.

This time, Aido didn't try to stop me. He stood there, watching us go, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't get a single word out.

I didn't look back. I hailed a cab straight to the airport.

Before we boarded, Leo rested his head on my shoulder and asked quietly, "Mamma, will you be sad if we never see him again?"

I paused mid-step. "Will you?"

He thought about it seriously, then shook his head gently.

"No," he said, wrapping his arms around me.

His voice was soft but firm. "I just want to be with you."

My throat tightened, and I held him closer.

Before the plane took off, I pulled out my phone and blocked every way Aido had to contact me. Text messages, private numbers, the secretariat backup email, and encrypted communication apps—I deleted everything.

Goodbye, Aido. The Derocchi family didn't need a Madre who couldn't be acknowledged. I didn't need an absent husband. And Leo didn't need a father who had to stay hidden.

From this moment on, Leo and I were gone from his life for good.

…

At the same time, in the Don's study, Aido woke earlier than usual. He'd barely slept, too busy replaying Leo's painfully distant "Don Derocchi" and the image of me walking away with our son without looking back once.

He'd just sat down at his desk when the butler, Giorgio Rossi, brought in a document. "Don Derocchi, Antonio Romano sent someone early this morning. He said you need to review this personally."

Aido frowned slightly and flipped it open. The next second, the bold letters at the top hit him like a punch to the gut—"Resignation Letter".