Chapter 3

At three o’ clock in the afternoon, Dominic returned to the villa.

The heavy mahogany doors swung open, and he froze the moment his eyes fell upon the two aluminum Rimowa suitcases sitting prominently in the center of the marble foyer.

"What the hell are you doing, Aria?"

He strode toward me, his brow furrowed into a sharp, dark line.

"Are you separating your wardrobe for the season change?"

I pressed the final layer of industrial tape onto the seam of the box containing my medical journals.

"Just sorting out old relics."

Dominic’s icy blue gaze dropped to an open velvet box resting inside one of the cases.

Inside were the matching silver chalices we had bought during our college years in Palermo, alongside a small, faded porcelain angel he had gifted me when he was still a low-level enforcer.

His handsome face completely darkened.

"Aria, enough of this fucking drama!"

He growled, snatching the chalice from the case and slamming it hard onto the glass coffee table.

"You’ve been throwing a tantrum since last night just because of a single antique brooch!"

He leaned over me, his presence suffocating.

"Now you’re throwing away our past? Are you going to tell me next that you’re packing up and abandoning my roof?"

I stood up straight, meeting his burning gaze with absolute calm.

"Yes."

Dominic let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, his jaw tight with fury.

"Fucking brilliant. Look at you, growing a spine."

He brutally yanked his silk tie loose, throwing himself onto the leather sofa, his eyes cutting like glass as he stared at me.

"And where exactly do you think you’re going? To your little doctor friend Susan’s apartment? Or back to that desolate, unheated village in the mountains of southern Italy?"

"Aria, you are twenty-seven years old."

His voice lowered into a dangerous, condescending drawl.

“Stop playing the naive little girl who runs away the moment things don't go her way.”

“Do you honestly believe that if you hide in some rat-hole for a few days, the Don of the Cacchini family will crawl on his knees to beg you back?"

He was entirely certain that I belonged to him.

He was convinced that this was merely a pathetic, desperate gamble on my part to force him into a compromise.

I didn't offer a single word of explanation.

I simply bent down, picked up the silver chalice, placed it carefully back into the box, and sealed it with tape.

"Think whatever pleases you, Dominic."

Watching my systematic, unbothered movements, a flicker of genuine irritation and anxiety flashed across his eyes.

He abruptly stood up, closed the distance between us, and his harsh tone softened slightly.

"Alright, drop the attitude. That’s enough."

"Tomorrow marks our fifth anniversary together."

"I’ve already reserved the private salon at that Michelin-starred terrace overlooking the coast. After dinner, we will go straight to the family jeweler to select your diamond brooch."

“As for the Como estate, I’ll have my underboss wire the deposit tomorrow morning and put the entire deed under your name.”

“Will that satisfy you?”

To him, this concession was the ultimate display of grace, an immense honor granted from a King to his Queen.

I looked up at his face. That’s a face so intimately familiar, yet now entirely alien.

I managed a faint, bloodless smile.

"Alright."

I nodded.

"I’ll see you tomorrow night."

Dominic let out a visible breath of relief, gently tousling my hair.

"That’s my good girl."

He had no idea that nestled deep within my hidden jacket pocket lay a one-way flight ticket to Geneva, scheduled to depart in exactly fourteen hours.

Dominic left for the family headquarters early the next morning.

Before he stepped out, he leaned down and pressed a firm, branding kiss onto my forehead.

"I’ll have my driver pick you up at six o'clock sharp," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.

"Wear that pink silk haute couture gown I bought you. You look beautiful in it."

The moment the heavy security doors clicked shut, I turned and walked straight into the sprawling walk-in closet.

The pink gown hung in the most prominent position.

It was the same one worn by Bianca.

I didn't even touch it.

Instead, I pulled out a simple white button-down shirt and a pair of washed-blue denim jeans.

It was the exact, no-nonsense outfit I used to wear during my residency years, and the same style I wore on the fateful night I accidentally met Dominic for the very first time.

I dragged my two sealed suitcases out to the service elevator and contacted a trusted contact within the city’s underground network, a fence who handled discrete asset liquidations.

"Dr. Aria, these designer pieces and diamond sets are practically untouched," the man’s voice crackled suspiciously over the burner phone.

"Are you certain you want them cleared out?"

"Get rid of them," I replied coldly.

"Liquidate everything and wire the funds to my anonymous Swiss account. I don't want to see them again."

After hanging up, I leaned against the kitchen island and surveyed the grand villa.

Once, I had poured my entire soul into making this cold fortress feel like a home.

The vintage medical diagrams I had framed myself, the rare botanical specimens I had painstakingly nurtured on the sunlit terrace, the handcrafted espresso cups from Florence.

Everything was still perfectly in place.

Yet, my personal essence had been completely erased.

It was as if I had already become a ghost under his roof.

Right then, my encrypted phone buzzed with a notification.

It was a text from Dominic.

【Aria, I’m sorry. Tonight’s dinner is canceled.】

【Bianca’s vehicle was targeted by a rogue faction's drive-by shooting right outside the Valentino Enterprises skyscraper. She wasn't hit, but she severely twisted her ankle while sprinting for the security bunker. It’s badly swollen.】

【I have to personally escort her to the family hospital and oversee the retaliation.】

【We will pick out the more pretty brooch in a few days, alright?】