Chapter 4

Making a scene.

In my last life, Dominic had used those words whenever I asked him for anything.

On our wedding day, after he had already told three hundred guests that this wasn’t the wedding he wanted. I was still trying to hold myself together when his phone rang.

Angela.

He answered before the officiant could finish speaking.

Then he let go of my hand.

“I have to go.Angela needs me.”

I caught Dominic’s hand.

“Please. Just let us finish.”

He pulled away without looking at me.

“Angela needs me more right now. Emilia, can you stop making a scene?”

He left me standing beneath an arch of white roses.

That night, I called him until my phone died.

Not once did he answer.

I sat on the edge of our bed, still in my wedding dress, surrounded by rose petals the staff had scattered for us.

At some point, I started laughing.

Then I couldn’t stop crying.

After that, everything became a scene.

Asking whether he would be home for dinner.

Telling him I was sick.

Wanting him beside me on our anniversary.

He heard only another attempt to drag him away from Angela.

“Emilia—”

Dominic’s voice brought me back.

Before he could finish, Angela doubled over, coughing hard enough to shake.

He released my wrist immediately.

“Angela?”

She pressed a hand to her chest.

“I’m okay. I just—”

He crouched in front of her, then turned to the guard.

“Bring a wheelchair. Have the car brought around.”

Angela sank weakly into the chair.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

He wheeled her out without another glance at me.

I stood there until the elevator doors closed.

Then I went back to my room. I zipped both suitcases.

My flight left that afternoon.

It was finally time to go.

A few minutes later, as I wheeled my luggage into the hall, an Instagram notification appeared.

Angela had tagged me in a post.

In the photograph, she was leaning against Dominic’s shoulder while he studied a medical report.

His arm was behind her on the back of the chair.

The caption read:

Some people always show up when you need them.

It was all so familiar.

We hadn’t lived those five years yet, but nothing had changed.

He loved me. So what?

He would still put Angela first and expect me to live with it.

I’d already spent one lifetime finding out how much that hurt.

I wasn’t going to put myself through that again.

I scrolled down to the comments.

Called it. Dom could never say no to Angie.

Look at him. She’s still got him wrapped around her finger.

I recognized every name.

Sons of capos. Daughters of our families’ closest allies.

In my last life, comments like those had worn me down one at a time.

I used to wait for Dominic to say something.

Anything that reminded them I was the woman he was marrying.

He never did.

When I finally asked, he told me I was reading too much into it.

Now I looked at the photograph again. I felt nothing.

Angela seemed pleased. Dominic was where he wanted to be.

That was exactly what I wanted.

I tapped the heart.

Less than two minutes later, Dominic’s voice message arrived.

“Unlike the post, Emilia. Everyone can see what you’re doing. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

He sounded tired. Certain.

I closed the message.

My phone rang before I could put it away.

Grandfather.

“Are you ready to tell me what happened last night?”

“Nothing happened.”

“You canceled a wedding in front of two families.”

“I know.”

“Then I need more than that.”

I looked back into the penthouse.

The housekeeper had removed the donation boxes. Without them, there was almost no sign I had ever lived here.

“Do you still want to marry him?” Grandpa asked.

I remembered standing alone in my wedding dress.

The anniversaries I’d spent waiting for Dominic.

The dinners that had gone cold before I finally stopped hoping he’d come home.

I tightened my grip on the suitcase.

“No, Grandpa. I’m not marrying Dominic.” I said. “I’ve thought about it. I’m young. There’s a whole world outside New York, and I’ve barely seen any of it.”

He had told me that before the engagement.

I could have spent a year abroad. Studied somewhere new. Found out what I wanted before taking my place in the family.

Instead, I had chosen Dominic.

“I want to go,” I whispered.

Then Grandpa said, “All right.”

My eyes burned.

“The alliance,” I began. “I know there are agreements—”

“Those are for me and his father to handle. You’re my granddaughter, Emilia. You’re not collateral.”

For the first time since waking up in this life, I nearly cried.

“I’ll speak to the Morettis,” he said. “Go where you need to go.”

I took a car to the airport.

Halfway there, I opened Instagram again.

There were new comments beneath Angela’s photograph.

Both from Dominic.

I’m getting married.

Emilia and I will see you all at the wedding next Monday.

I had waited five years for him to say something that simple.

Now, when I no longer needed it, there it was.

A few minutes later, the post was deleted by Angela.

At the airport, When I joined the check-in line, my phone began vibrating.

Messages filled the screen, all asking about the wedding.

Two stood out, both from Dominic, sent just five seconds earlier.

I could practically hear his voice.

Emilia, what did you tell your grandfather?

Why the hell is the wedding canceled?

I deleted his contact, then removed my SIM card.

As the plane lifted off, I watched New York disappear beneath the clouds.

In my last life, he had died keeping me warm in the snow.

This time, I hoped he would live a long, happy life.

And I would finally learn how to live mine without him.