He Wanted Her, He Lost Me, and I Never Looked Back

Congratulations. Youve been selected to study Fine Arts at our academy. We expect your arrival in Melbourne within the next month.

I sank back into the worn leather chair, letting out a long, shaky breath that I didnt realize Id been holding. The words on the screen swam before my eyes as memories of my graduation day flooded my mind, sharp and unrelenting.

That day, every loyal soldier of a family was supposed to be flanked by their alliesthe ones who claimed them, the ones sworn to protect and honor them. And yet, my own would-be Don, Marcello Moretti, hadnt been there.

Instead of standing at my side with pride, instead of witnessing me claim my achievement in front of the world, he was halfway across the globe, lounging under the golden sun of Monaco as though the moment of my life meant nothing at all.

In his absence came flowers, accompanied by an envelope thick with cash. Money in place of presence. Currency masquerading as loyalty. A gesture that reeked of convenience and entitlement.

Every time I dared confront him, he brushed it off like it was nothing.

Isabelle, hed say smoothly, voice dipped in charm and casual dismissal. Its just graduation. I had a critical meeting with a client in Monaco. Youll understand.

Understand.

The word had always tasted like ash on my tongue. I had spent years bending, forgiving, excusing, acting as a loyal daughter of his familywaiting for him to finally claim what was his, to honor what should have been our bond.

But that was the past.

Last night, a single post on Serafina Vitales social feed shredded the remnants of my patience. She was still in Monaco. Still with Marcello. Still laughing, the picture-perfect image of intimacy I had once foolishly believed was reserved for me.

It wasnt just a casual snapshotthe third image made my chest tighten.

Serafina straddled Marcellos lap, arms looping possessively around his shoulders, lips pressed against his in a kiss that was neither light nor friendly. It was a declaration of ownership.

Marcellos hands rested on her waist like a predator marking his territory. Even through the thin fabric of his swimwear, his reaction was evident. This was his critical meeting.

I had always known about Serafina Vitale. Marcellos childhood confidante. The shadow that had never left his side. Every time I questioned it, they laughed in unison:

Were just friends, Isabelle.

And for three long years, I had believed them. Foolishly, painfully, faithfully.

Not anymore.

At that very moment, I made a silent vowI would never tell Marcello about my acceptance into the academy. He had forfeited any right to know. He had no claim over my future, not after his betrayal.

During my graduation, the only one who had stood, eyes glinting with pride, had been my mother. Only she deserved to hear my triumph.

I set the phone down and turned to her. She had just placed a plate of warm cookies on the mahogany table, the scent mingling with the faint tang of espresso lingering from her morning ritual.

You remember the Blackstone family, right? she asked casually, nudging the plate closer.

I picked up a cookie, biting into it slowly. Of course I remember them, I murmured.

Good, she said with a faint, approving smile. Theyll be watching over you when you get to Melbourne.

My brow furrowed. Wait what are you talking about?

You wont be alone, Isabelle, she said, voice firm, leaving no room for argument. I wont rest easy unless you stay with them. Besides, you and Raffaele grew up together. Youve walked the same streets, learned the same lessons in the family ways. Nothing to be embarrassed about.

Here it comes.

Mother always had a way of weaving Raffaele Ashclaw into my lifeas though fate itself had etched our names together long before either of us had drawn breath.

Mom, I was thinking of renting a small studio. Just for the year

No, she cut me off with a wave of her hand. That wont do. The Blackstones are respected, and Raffaele hes a formidable underboss. Consider it an opportunity to understand the man before the family seals your alliance officially.

Mom! I choked on the cookie, more from frustration than food.

She laughed lightly, the sound teasing. What? Its perfect logic. Youve been accepted to a university in Melbourne, and Raffaele just happens to be there. Call it fate. Call it family guidance.

I pressed my fingers to my temples. Fine. But if things go wrong with Raffaele, this conversation ends here.

Alright, alright, she said, though the amusement in her eyes suggested she had no intention of taking me seriously.

Mother didnt know I already had someone else. Marcello. He had insisted on secrecy while I was in college, promising that once I graduated, the world would see me as his rightful partnerthe one he called his. But promises were for fools, and he had shown his colors.

That evening, I returned home, not expecting the cold knot of unease that would twist in my chest at the sight before me.

Marcello and Serafina were there, laughing like a pair of inseparable allies, comfortable and practiced in each others presence. Marcellos arm rested casually around her waist, his hand claiming space that should have been mine. The familiarity stung, sharp and unrelenting.

Serafina was packing a suitcase, pretending not to notice the subtle ownership in his touch, yet the intimacy between them was undeniable.

Isabelle, youre back, Marcello greeted with effortless charm, as if nothing had happened.

He withdrew his arm from her waist and approached me, calm, rehearsed, like a man who had rehearsed apologies for every imagined scenario except this one.

Serafinas smile was sweet, too saccharine to be sincere. I just dropped by with some gifts. We packed lightlyonly one suitcase. I hope thats alright with you, Isabelle?

As if she hadnt just intruded upon my home, my life, my trust.

I met her gaze, expression neutral. Do what you must, I said evenly.

Marcello didnt flinch. You must be exhausted. Rest first. Ill finish here with Serafina, he said smoothly.

Dont worry, Serafina added with practiced innocence. Ill be gone once were done.

I exhaled, face carefully unreadable. Take your time, I said, voice colder than steel.

I turned and walked into the bedroom, slamming the door behind me. But even there, I could hear themtheir laughter, their whispered jokes, their closeness.

Stop it, Marcello. Its late. I should finish quickly, dont want to bother Isabelle, Serafinas giggle floated through the air.

Marcello chuckled. Alright, alright. Just dont take my jacket as a souvenir.

Marcello! she shrieked in mock protest, laughter spilling like liquid.

By the time Serafina left, I was already lying in bed, eyes open to the ceiling, stomach twisting.

Not long after, the door creaked. Marcello slipped inside, climbing onto the mattress beside me.

Isabelle, he murmured, voice low, hand brushing my arm as though nothing had shifted between us. Ive brought souvenirs. Want to see them?

There was a time I would have melted at that touch, would have surrendered instinctively. But not tonight.

I pulled away, body stiff.

Whats wrong? he asked, amusement in his tone. Are you upset for some silly reason?

I didnt answer. I unlocked my phone and held the screen before him. His face drained of color.

Isabelle, its just a joke a stupid game, he tried, voice slick and persuasive. You know I only

I didnt let him finish.

I threw the blanket aside and rose abruptly. Im sleeping elsewhere tonight, I said, ice in my words.

And I left the room.

He didnt follow me. Of course he wouldnt. He only chased what benefited him, and in his mind, I was nothing more than a momentary irritation that would fade by sunrise.

But I had finally seen the truth. I had been too loyal, too hopeful, too entangled in illusions to face it before.

It didnt matter anymore.

In thirty days, I would leave his territory.

And this time I would never return.

When dawn finally broke, the first thing that greeted my eyes wasnt the soft light streaming through the blindsit was Serafina and Marcello moving around the kitchen like they owned the place, like they were a perfectly orchestrated power couple running a private empire within our own walls.

As if the sight of them last night hadnt already set my nerves ablaze with fury, Serafina had the audacity to return to the household this morning. She stood by the stove, flipping eggs with an ease that suggested she had always belonged there, like this house was hers by right of some invisible inheritance. Marcello leaned casually against the counter beside her, shoulders brushing occasionally, exchanging smiles and laughter that radiated familiaritya warmth I hadnt seen from him in years.

The moment Serafina spotted me, she nudged Marcello with the slightest sway of her hip, a movement both playful and possessive, before turning to face me with a smile so sweet it could have been weaponized.

Oh, Isabelle, youre already awake? she chirped, voice light and dripping with innocence, as though she had merely popped in for a friendly visit. I forgot my bag last night in my rush to leave. Came back to grab it, and Marcello mentioned he was hungry, so I cooked him some sunny-side up eggs. Would you like some too?

Her tone was deceptively kind, a mask of civility over the power she always tried to wield over me. But I knew her far too well. Serafina had never respected boundaries, not back when we were both still navigating our territory in college. Every time Marcello would pick me up after classes, she would find a way to slip into the passenger seat, leaving me in the back, a silent outsider in my own narrative.

There was always some reason, some favor she needed, some excuse to assert dominance over himand I had kept my mouth shut. Foolishly, I had told myself I wouldnt become the jealous, possessive woman, swallowing every pang of resentment, letting every violation slide. Looking back, perhaps that silence had been my biggest mistake. Perhaps it had encouraged her to believe that nothing, not even me, could stop her from crossing lines that were mine by right.

Marcello finally noticed me, his face brightening as if nothing untoward had ever happened. He approached and took my hand, the warmth of his familiar touch a cruel reminder of what I had once trusted him to be.

You should try some, he said casually, voice smooth, the same practiced charm I had once fallen for. Serafina makes her eggs like a professional cheftruly, shes something else.

I let him lead me to the table, my body moving automatically while my mind screamed in protest, a storm of fury and heartbreak brewing beneath my calm exterior.

Soon, the three of us sat down for breakfast. Marcello claimed the center seat, deliberately placing himself between us, a human barricade. Serafina and I faced each other across the table, her every movement, every word, a reminder of my marginal position.

As expected, Serafina filled the air with her bubbly chatter, recounting memories of Monaco and moments shared with Marcello that I had never been part of. Listening to them felt like standing outside a fortress, barred from the inner circle of trust and affection. From time to time, she would direct a casual comment toward meacknowledgment just enough to avoid being rudeyet every word underscored how little I belonged here. I wasnt part of their world; I was the shadow at the table, the one who was not chosen.

When their laughter dragged on, I finally broke in, my voice soft but deliberate. Since Serafina was kind enough to cook, Ill take care of the dishes.

I rose immediately, gathering my plate and moving toward the sink before either of them could protest. Marcello followed, ever the attentive partner in appearance, collecting the remaining plates and setting them beside me.

Serafina stretched lazily, yawning as she announced, Ill just freshen up in the bathroom, her words casual, as if she owned every corner of this home.

The moment she disappeared down the hall, I seized the opportunity. Keeping my tone steady, I leaned close to Marcello. Can you take me to the U.S. embassy later? My passport is expiring soon.

He nodded instantly, unaware of the quiet challenge in my request. Sure. We can go after we finish here.

Then he stepped behind me, arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me into an embrace that should have felt safe but only highlighted the betrayal that had been etched into every fiber of our shared history. For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to feel the pull of comfort, the echoes of what I had once believed to be loyalty, until reality snapped back.

Before we could continue, a sharp scream echoed from the bathroom, shattering the fragile calm. Marcellos reaction was instantaneoushe released me and rushed toward the sound, leaving me standing in the empty kitchen, my skin still tingling from his warmth, already replaced in his priorities.

Minutes later, he returned, carrying Serafina in his arms. She looked frail, vulnerablebut as soon as his attention shifted even briefly, I caught the faint, triumphant smirk she sent my way.

She sprained her footits swelling badly, Marcello said hurriedly, snatching his car keys from the counter. Ill take you to the embassy after I make sure shes alright.

Without waiting for my response, he was gone, leaving the house silent, hollow, and empty.

I lingered, staring at the spot he had vacated, unshocked. This was nothing new. From the very beginning of our relationship, Serafina had always come first. I had believed that moving in together, witnessing him climb the family hierarchy, and sharing a life within the family business would change thingsthat he would finally choose us. But hope is a luxury the foolish cannot afford.

Whenever I tried to voice my unhappiness, he dismissed my emotions as though they were mere inconveniences. Then, as if to soothe his own guilt, he would deposit money into my account.

Use this to cheer yourself up, he would say, the same cold, practiced tone. Go shopping. Go out with friends.

I had never wanted money. I had never wanted gifts. I had wanted presence. Recognition. A partner who chose me as fiercely as he claimed to. And he had never done that.

I drew a slow, steadying breath and left the house alone, heading to the U.S. embassy under my own power. In the sterile waiting area, I mechanically filled out the forms to renew my identification. But when I reached the line for my name, my hand stilled.

A thought crystallized, sharp and undeniable. In twenty-nine days, I would leave this territory, this life, this man, to begin anew in Melbourne.

Why cling to the remnants of a past that had only chained me?

My fingers tightened around the pen. With quiet, unyielding resolve, I filled out a second formrequesting the cancellation of my old identity and registering a new one. A new name. A new beginning. A life entirely of my own making.

When I stepped back into the apartment that afternoon, silence swallowed the place like a tomb. The rooms felt empty, untouched, as if Marcello had never even been here. No laughter, no footstepsjust the hollow echo of absence.

As I expected, I muttered under my breath, sinking into the worn leather couch with a tired exhale.

He was probably still at the hospital, hovering over Serafinawhether it was genuine concern or just another way she had found to tether him to her side, keeping him away from me, keeping him away from the life we were supposed to share.

I let out a long, weary sigh, too drained to muster the anger that had once roared through me. I reached for the book Id been reading earlier, hoping to lose myself for a while, but then something on the coffee table caught my attention.

Marcellos phone.

It lay there carelessly, abandoned in his rush to tend to Serafina. I let out a humorless scoff. He never left the apartment without it. Never. That he had forgotten it now said everything I needed to know: she mattered more than anything elsemore than duty, more than loyalty, more than even his own business affairs.

I leaned back, trying to focus on my book, but the persistent vibration of the phone against the table made it impossible to ignore. Frustrated, I reached over, fingers hovering over the screen. Notifications stacked one after another, relentless.

I hadnt meant to snoop. I only wanted peace. Silence. But then I saw the sender.

It was his familys private group chatthe very same circle he had traveled to Monaco with.

My chest constricted. Without thinking further, I unlocked the phone. The password was still the samethe anniversary of our engagement.

We have nothing to hide from each other, Marcello had said once, grinning lazily when I hesitated to touch his phone. Back then, I had trusted him without question. That trust died the day I discovered the truth. I was done living under the carefully constructed lies of a man who couldnt even defend the bond we shared.

I scrolled through the messages, each word hitting me harder than the last, until one exchange made my stomach drop:

[That Monaco trip was insane. Cant believe Marcello almost skipped it because of that clingy girlfriend.]

[LMAO, imagine him using the client meeting excuse just to sneak away with us.]

[Marcello, youre a legend. Should hand her a trophyMost Gullible Girlfriend of the Year.]

My breath caught. Even Serafina, supposedly injured and at the hospital, was chiming in.

[Nah, call it Most Pathetic Girlfriend.]

[I think Serafina deserves an award. Truth or Dare was her idea, right?]

[Well, hes my childhood sweetheart. Whats a little fun between us?]

[Careful, babe. Isabelle might flip out if she finds out.]

[Nah, even if she does, shell cry a little, sulk for a few days, and then forgive Marcello. Hes trained her well.]

[Damn thats kind of sad, actually.]

Even through the quiet of my apartment, their laughter echoed.

It wasnt just their mocking words that cut meit was their absolute certainty that I would remain, that I would forgive him as I always had. That I would let myself be sidelined, relegated to the background while Serafina paraded herself in his life.

And the photosthey were even worse.

Every snapshot confirmed it. Serafina pressed close to Marcello, laughing beside him, resting her head on his shoulder as if the empire he shared with me had already been hers to command. In one particularly cruel image, she had drawn on his sleeping face while his friends snapped pictures, commenting on how cute they looked togetherlike they were the heirs of some perfectly scripted love story. And me? The woman who had been promised loyalty, partnership, a place at his side? I was invisible, a joke they all shared without shame. Marcello said nothing. Not a single word.

A few moments later, my own phone buzzed. A new message.

[Hi, are you still taking freelance photography jobs? Id like to hire you for an event.]

I blinked. Photography had been my escape, my passion, the skill I honed in college while earning my Fine Arts degree. Over the last few months, I had paused freelance work to focus on finishing schoolbut curiosity drew me to check. More inquiries were waiting, requests for shoots piling up.

Something stirred in me. A quiet, steely resolve anchored itself in my chest. If Marcello could pour himself into distractions, favors, and everyone else, then I would pour myself into mine. Into work. Into my future. Into building a life that didnt depend on him.

---

A week passed in a blur. During that time, I barely noticed Marcello. Not because I was avoiding him, but because I was too immersed in my work to even think of him. My days and nights were packed with events, photo sessions, and client meetings. My camera became my shield, my escape from everything I no longer wanted to face. I stopped wondering if he had eaten, slept, or spent the day with Serafina. None of it mattered.

Then one evening, after a particularly long shoot, I returned home to find him waiting.

Marcello sat just outside the apartment door, arms crossed, his expression unreadable yet sharp, as if he had been standing there for hours. The moment I stepped inside, his gaze locked onto mine.

So, finally done avoiding me? he asked, voice edged with mockery.

I didnt even look at him, slipping off my shoes as I walked past. Im not avoiding you, I said simply.

Then explain why you leave early in the morning and only return when Im asleep, he pressed, frustration creeping in.

Because Ive been busy, I answered flatly, moving toward my room.

Before I could reach the door, his hand shot out and gripped my wrist.

Fine. If youre still upset because I couldnt take you to the embassy last week, just say it, he snapped. Serafina was in the hospital, her parents were away What was I supposed to do? Ignore her?

I turned to face him, my expression calm and distant. Different priorities, Marcello. Mine was my passport. If Id waited for you, it would have expired, wouldnt it?

His grip tightened. You always have time to argue, but dont you see Ive been exhausted too? Working, taking care of Serafina at the same time.

Then his tone sharpened further. The least you could do is welcome me home, cook breakfast, or have something ready before I leave. Is that really so hard?

I froze. The truth landed like a sledgehammer. He hadnt asked me to move in because he loved me or wanted a shared lifehe wanted a servant, someone to wait while he spent his days with Serafina.

For the first time, I raised my voice. I told you, Im busy too!

Marcello let out a frustrated exhale and released my wrist. Fine. Forget it. Tomorrow get ready. Were going to Serafinas birthday party.

I laughed bitterly. She just got out of the hospital and shes already throwing a party? Thats impressive.

Its a celebration for her recovery, he corrected, as if that justified everything. Then he frowned. Isabelle, you really despise Serafina, dont you? You always act like this when its about her.

I dont despise her. I just dont like her. Theres a difference, I shot back, turning away. Go alone. I have plans tomorrow.

I slammed the door to my room behind me, leaving him standing there.

The irony struck hard the next morning. My first client of the day? Serafina herself. She had booked me through her butler, which meant I had unknowingly agreed to photograph her birthday celebration.

And there I wascamera in handforced to watch her cling to Marcello, feeding him cake, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, all while laughing sweetly in front of the entire family and their circle of allies. Around them, whispers traveled.

Isnt that Marcellos girlfriend?

Wow look at her. So professional, watching her man be kissed by another and still snapping pictures like nothings wrong.

I tightened my grip on the camera. Let them watch. Let them think I was powerless. I had work. I had control. And one day soon, they would seenothing about me was disposable.

Marcello barely spared me a glance the entire evening, his indifference slicing through the room sharper than the cut of a Dons finest blade. The tension in his posture was unmistakablehe was still irritated that I had prioritized work over attending Serafinas grand birthday gala, an event he seemed to worship like a ritual of family honor.

The absurdity of it nearly made me laugh. How could he harbor resentment toward me when he had spent months, subtly and deliberately, proving that I was not meant to belong at his side?

Naturally, Serafina stepped in with her practiced grace, acting the concerned mediator.

Marcello, Isabelle has a professional obligation tonight. She shouldnt be blamed for keeping to her duties, Serafina said, her tone soft and measured, each word dripping with that meticulously rehearsed charm, the kind trained to disarm anyone in the room. She turned toward me with that flawless, almost theatrical smile. It actually works in your favor that shes the photographer for the event. Why dont you two pose together for a picture, just like the rest of our distinguished guests?

I tightened my grip on the camera.

It was a calculated performance. Every word, every gesture was designed to place me in a spotlight of humiliation, to remind everyone that I was, as usual, the outsider in this carefully choreographed display of wealth, power, and inherited privilege.

I glanced down at myself: a simple blouse, faded jeans, my attire a stark contrast to the silk gowns and tailored suits that defined the hall. And there she wasSerafinain a designer dress that glittered under the chandeliers, commanding attention effortlessly. Marcello, in his tailored suit marking him as heir to the Moretti empire, looked perfectly at home beside her, as though he had never belonged to anyone else.

Before I could respond, Serafina had already snatched my camera from my hands, her laugh light but insistent.

Come on, just one photo, she said, brushing off my protest with the ease of a seasoned socialite.

I stepped beside Marcello, every movement stiff, as she lifted the camera. Whispers immediately began to ripple through the crowd, subtle murmurs that carried the sting of gossip:

Marcello must be ashamed to stand with her.

Clearly, he prefers Serafina.

Did you see their Monaco trip pictures? He kissed her like she already owns him.

If I had someone as cunning and charming as Serafina, Id choose her too.

Soft laughter followed. Each word punctured my skin, a thousand invisible daggers. Marcello remained silent, his expression unreadable. Not a single defense, not a single acknowledgment of my presence.

I reclaimed my camera from Serafina, my face neutral, calm, the professionalism masking the fury inside.

This is your celebration, Serafina, I said evenly, raising the camera to my eye. You deserve the spotlight. Just let me know if theres anything else you want captured.

Serafina tilted her head, as if trying to read beneath my mask, but before she could respond, the grand doors swung open.

Marcellos parents had arrived.

The moment they stepped in, their presence filled the room with unspoken authority, commanding respect as they moved toward Serafinas family with smooth, practiced gestures of greeting and alliance. The subtle political undertone was not lost on anyonethe joining of two powerful families in public display, framed by Serafinas orchestrated charm.

Serafinas eyes sparkled with satisfaction. She turned to me, her smile sharp, controlled. Now, take a picture of Marcello and me with our families, alright?

Marcello didnt hesitate. He slipped an arm around her waist with an ease that was infuriating, as though he had been waiting his entire life for this photo opportunity. Parents positioned themselves on either side, forming a tableau of perfection.

Through my cameras lens, I saw everything with brutal clarity: Serafina leaning into him, Marcello accepting it without hesitation, the proud smiles of their parentsa family already envisioning the union as inevitable, as though my existence was irrelevant.

It struck me, hard and unyielding: this had always been the pattern. I had always been the outsider, merely tolerated, never truly claimed.

When the photo session ended, Serafina approached me again, phone in hand, smugness barely concealed beneath her veneer of politeness.

Ive already transferred a partial payment for your work, she said lightly. The rest will be sent once I review the final images. Her tone held a subtle edge.

She added casually, almost as an afterthought, Originally, I only booked you until the main celebration ended, but with Marcellos parents here, theres a secondary gathering. Youll stay a bit longer, wont you?

Her eyes danced with amusement, a silent acknowledgment of the control she wielded. I simply nodded, retreating into the safety of my professionalism, camera in hand.

But as I followed Serafina to capture candid moments, fragments of a conversation reached me. My heart constricted with each word.

They were discussing Marcello and Serafinas engagementright there, openly, as if it were already finalized. My hands shook slightly around the camera, but I forced myself to keep shooting, to maintain the illusion of professionalism, even as everything within me fractured.

Cheers erupted around me. Glasses clinked, voices shouted encouragements. One of Marcello and Serafinas friends from Monacothe same group that had mocked me mercilesslycalled out, urging them on:

Kiss! Kiss!

Serafina blushed, lowering her gaze, letting out a soft laugh. Everyone, dont tease us. Our parents are watching.

Marcello only tightened his arm around her, leaning close. Why not, my love? he murmured.

The crowds excitement intensified, a roar of approval. Their parents laughed, pleased by the image of perfection. And then it happened. Serafina leaned in, and Marcello kissed herlong, deliberate, and intimate. The kind of kiss reserved for power, possession, and public display.

The guests cheered. Glasses raised.

I walked toward the pyramid of wine glasses on the table. Instead of lifting the top glass like the others, I grabbed one from the middle. The entire tower collapsed instantly, crystal shattering across the floor as gasps echoed in the hall.

I did not flinch.

Raising the glass calmly, I allowed a faint, knowing smile to curve my lips. Congratulations, I said coolly, voice steady. Two shameless heirstruly a perfect match.

I drained the glass, set it down, and turned on my heel. Without a backward glance, I walked out of their charade of celebration, leaving chaos in my wake.

---

Back at the apartment, Marcello was waiting. The moment I stepped inside, he erupted.

What the hell was that, Isabelle? he roared, anger radiating from him like the weight of a family empire. Do you have any idea how you humiliated me in front of everyone tonight?

I let out a humorless laugh. Really? And you kissing your so-called childhood sweetheart in front of mewasnt that humiliating at all?

Marcello ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. It was an act, Isabelle. Our families are intertwined. Our alliances are bound through business. We had to maintain appearances.

I scoffed, arms crossed, tilting my head. An act?

I met his gaze, voice sharp and cold. Then explain this, Marcello. Explain to me why you lied about Monaco.

His jaw clenched. The room seemed to grow colder as silence fell between us, heavy and absolute.

You really want to bring this up again? Marcello snapped, the sharp edge in his voice slicing through the room like a blade. His frustration wasnt just irritationit carried the weight of a Don displeased with a lieutenant questioning his orders. Fine. If this is eating at you that much, Ill have Serafina remove the post. Happy now?

I let out a quiet, bitter laugh that barely rose above a whisper, tasting of iron and disillusionment. He still didnt get it.

Its not about the post, Marcello, I said, my voice calm on the surface, but my heart burned with betrayal beneath it. Its about the lie. Its about why you deceived me. Its not the meeting with Serafina, not the kiss not even whatever private indulgence you think excuses yourself with.

Marcello smirked, like a Don whod just solved a puzzle. Ah, I see now, he said, his tone mockingly smooth. Youre jealous. Thats all this is. Jealousy over Serafina. That explains why youve been giving me the cold shoulder this past week. Typical.

He leaned against the polished mahogany desk of his penthouse office, arms crossed, posture casual, but every syllable was sharpened with condescension.

I had always told myself to stay patient, to be understandingthe loyal partner who didnt cause ripples in calm waters. But since he had broken his promise on my graduation night, a fissure had formed inside me, growing steadily until it finally yawned open.

And what if I am jealous? I shot back, my voice cutting, laced with fury and heartbreak. Will you finally do something about it? Will you finally stay away from her?

Marcellos eyes flickered, a flash of impatience masked by his usual charm. No, right? Youre still accusing me, still questioning me. But you know the truth, Isabelle. I never went to Monaco for a client. That was just an excuse. A cover. For Serafina.

The words fell like bullets. I felt the tears slide down my cheeks despite myself. I didnt try to stop themthey were the release of months of bottled resentment, a bitter acknowledgment of everything Id suppressed.

So I think its best if we end this, I whispered, my voice trembling but resolute. The family doesnt even know the full story between us, and soon enough, youll be officially bound to her anyway.

Marcellos expression shifted instantlythe first crack of panic I had ever seen in him. His amber eyes darkened with desperation as he stepped toward me. No, Isabelle. Dont say that, he pleaded, hands gripping my shoulders with a strength that belied the vulnerability in his voice. I cant function without you. Dont leave me.

He swallowed hard, voice trembling as he continued, I know its complicated now, but Serafinaeverything with heris for appearances. For the families. The one I want the only one I care for its you. Only you.

Im sorry, he whispered again, softer now, almost fragile. Im sorry for missing your graduation. Im sorry for the embassy. Im sorry for all the times I let you down. From now on youre my priority. My first thought every morning. I swear it.

I sneered silently. Another empty promise. I caught myself, wondering why I still felt anger. In less than three weeks, Id be gonefar from his familys empire, far from him. Why waste energy on someone who had spent years proving he didnt deserve me?

So, as I always had, I forgave him. But this time, it was a performance, a mask I wore for my own protection.

Marcello exhaled in relief, pulling me into a warm, deceptive embrace as if nothing had changed. Then tonight well be together? he asked, hope glinting in his golden eyes.

I pulled away sharply. No.

Without another word, I turned and retreated to my room, closing the door with finality. His low chuckle trailed beneath the wood, casual and careless.

Take your time, my girl, he called softly, the words hollow, confident in his control.

---

The next morning, I prepared breakfast and packed a lunch for him, playing the obedient role he always demanded. Marcellos lips curved into a grin when he saw it, sharp and predatory.

Thanks. Looks like if this is how its going to be, everything runs smoothly between us, he said, smug but satisfied, as if I had no choice but to comply.

I mirrored his smileperfectly practiced, hollow.

For five days, I continued the act. All the while, I quietly packed my belongings, my heart already halfway across the ocean. I even attended a friends wedding alone. In the bridal room, I shared my plan with her. She cried, clutching my hand tightly.

Dont cry todayyour happiness matters, I whispered, forcing my own tears back.

She nodded. Promise me well meet one last time before you leave for Melbourne.

Of course, I said, straightening my shoulders.

Watching my friend walk down the aisle, a sharp pang of jealousy cut through me. Marcello could have been beside me if he had honored his promises, if he had respected me as his equal. But he hadnt. I shook my head and immersed myself in the celebration, swallowing my resentment.

---

Later that night, as I prepared to leave the party, my phone buzzed. Serafina.

Isabelle, her voice was silky, sharp as a dagger. Marcellos completely drunk at our friends gathering. Youre going to pick him up, arent you?

I wentnot out of concern, but because this was the last time I would perform the role of compliant partner.

Outside the private box, I overheard their conversation clearly.

So what happens to Isabelle once you marry Serafina, Marcello? one of his associates asked, voice casual, laced with cruel amusement.

Marcello laughed, lazy, the sound carrying the entitled confidence of a man who believed he owned everything. Isabelle? Shes just here to follow orders. To be on standby when I need her. Isnt it amusing? A loyal little shadow waiting at home.

Marcellos associates erupted into laughter, their voices sharp, cruel, and biting enough to make the skin crawl.

Yeah, Serafinas perfect if youre looking for a wife to tie you down for life, one sneered, the smirk on his face dripping with mockery.

So whens the wedding? I want front-row seats, another added, grinning like the outcome had been decided months ago, as if it were already etched into the ledger of their family alliances.

I froze in the shadow of the private office, my pulse hammering like the engines of a getaway car. Marcello had never truly seen me as an equal partner, someone to care for, someone he couldnt just discard when convenient. To him, I had always been a placeholdera temporary presence, summoned when it suited him and discarded the moment another interest distracted him.

I refused to step forward. I refused to give him any acknowledgment, any measure of my attention.

Yet the second I returned home, my phone buzzed with a notification. Serafina had posted photos from the evening. One captured them laughing, another had Marcello leaning heavily on her shoulder, intoxicated and entirely at ease, as though he belonged there.

A fierce, white-hot rage surged through me, scorching every nerve. I packed not just my essentials but stripped the apartment of every trace of myselfevery book, every photograph, every little token of presence. In a fortnight, nothing of me would remain here, and nothing would link me to this life.

In the days that followed, I ignored him completely. By day, I immersed myself in photography, chasing angles, shutter clicks, and light, losing myself in the rhythm of my work. By night, I retreated to editing, to the quiet precision of my own worldone that had no place for him. Whether he returned drunk from yet another night with Serafina, whether he noticed my absence or not, it no longer mattered.

A week before my departure, the apartment was almost bare. If Marcello had even an ounce of sensitivity, he might have realized just how empty my presence had left the place. But I doubted he did.

That evening, I slung my bag over my shoulder, ready to deliver client photos and meet a friend afterward. Just as my fingers grazed the doorknob, Marcello entered, a plastic bag of beer swinging from one hand.

For the first time since that night at the bar, we were face-to-face.

His amber eyes darkened, narrowing as they locked onto me. A bitter laugh, rough and sharp, escaped his throat. Well, well. Look who finally decided to show up. Even though we share this roof, we havent bumped into each other all week. Not once.

I didnt answer. I refused to play his game.

Havent we already settled things a week ago? he pressed, sarcasm dripping like expensive liquor. You even made me breakfastlike you always do. And then nothing. Silence. You act as if the past week never happened. How long, Isabelle? How long are you going to keep this up?

Im busy, I said flatly, adjusting my bag as I stepped forward, determined to leave.

Before I could move, his hand shot out, gripping my wrist and yanking me back. My breath caught, pressed against the wall by his sheer presence, the room suddenly small and suffocating.

Isabelle, he murmured, the stench of alcohol heavy on his breath. If you keep this up Ill end up marrying Serafina for real.

I turned my face aside, refusing to meet his burning gaze. My wrist throbbed beneath his grip, but I would not yield. Then do it. I dont care.

His eyes darkened further, frustration coiling through his tense frame. Dont care? he growled. When did you stop caring about me? Avoiding me doesnt prove anythingyoure jealous, and it shows.

He leaned closer, the menace in his voice sharp and dangerous, like a blade against silk. Oh, right. I havent shown enough of my loyalty? My love? Fine. Ill make sure you never dare avoid me over something so insignificant again.

The beer bag slipped from his hand, cans clattering across the floor with metallic chaos. Before I could react, he grabbed both my wrists, pressing them above my head against the wall with an unrelenting force.

Marcello, let go! Youre drunk! I warned, voice steady despite the rising panic. But he ignored me.

His left hand found my chin, forcing me to look at him. His fingers dug into my skin, claiming my lips with a possessive, bruising kiss that stole my breath and left me trembling.

I twisted and kicked, but my strength was nothing against his. His raw, commanding forcethe man I had once lovedwas shocking and terrifying.

Marcello it hurts, I whispered, voice breaking. Was your promise not to hurt me just another lie?

Something inside him snapped. The drunken haze evaporated instantly, leaving only the brutal clarity of what he had done. His grip slackened. His eyes widened, searching mine, as if finally seeing the wreckage he had caused.

Isabelle I he began, voice faltering, desperate.

I didnt let him finish. The moment I could, I shoved him back and fled the apartment, heart hammering in my chest.

In the elevator mirror, I froze, staring at my reflection. Hair disheveled, face pale and raw, eyes wild.

Bastard, I muttered under my breath, scowling at the man I had loved too long.

Meeting my friend afterward gave some relief. Her laughter, the warmth of normal conversation, grounded me, reminding me of life outside this toxic web. I was happy for her honeymoon, her joy untied to Marcello in any way.

But the respite was short-lived. One of my clients for the day was Serafina. I couldnt hold her final photo rolls indefinitely, so I made my way to meet her.

She greeted me with her trademark smooth, sharp smile, flipping through the images. These are excellent. Youve got real skill. She tapped her phone. Oh, Ive already sent the payment, including the bonus.

Thanks, I muttered, ready to leave.

But she added, casually, deliberately, as if savoring every word: By the way since you didnt pick him up that night, I did. Not yoursmine. We enjoyed that night together, Isabelle.

I froze, eyes narrowing as my stomach turned.

Serafina tilted her head, her smile cruelly sweet. That night, when he stayed at my place, he mistook me for you, she said softly, tauntingly. He was out of control. Desperate, even.

My body went rigid.

Her grin never wavered. So Im sorry, Isabelle. But an accident happened between us. I assume Marcello told you?

My chest tightened, hollow and leaden.

Leaning closer, her voice dropped almost to a whisper. I know our arrangement is only for appearances, only for the families. I know youre the one he truly wants. But Isabelle I saw how much he enjoyed that night. The next morning, he laughed about it, saying it was the most incredible night hed ever had.

I swallowed hard, every breath bitter and ragged.

Her eyes gleamed, triumphant and sharp. So why dont you just give up? Your relationship is already crumbling.

A final, poisonous smile. Oh, and one more thing Id like to hire you as my wedding photographer. Awkward, isnt it? Especially since youll still be involved with him when the time comes.

Finally, Serafinas mask fell away completely, revealing the raw, unmasked truth beneath the polite fa?ade she had worn for weeks.

Youve always had feelings for him, havent you? I asked, my voice calm, even, but heavy with the weight of years spent swallowing frustration and resentment. Every syllable carried the bitterness of being sidelined in a game I had once believed we played together.

Serafina met my gaze without hesitation, her poise radiating confidence, as if daring me to challenge her.

Well, she began lightly, tilting her head in that insufferably self-assured way of hers, Ive always considered him a friend, someone I grew up with, someone close. But after all thats happened these past few days I think my feelings may have shifted. Maybe its more than friendship now.

I let out a scoff that I tried to hide behind a neutral expression.

Love isnt a crime, is it? she continued, her tone deceptively casual, as if fate had simply placed her in this position. Even if youre still involved with him, theres no guarantee that things will last, that youll be the one standing beside him forever. So why not let me have him now?

I couldnt help the humorless snort that escaped me.

At last, she was honest. No games, no careful fa?ade. Just pure, unfiltered selfishness, elegantly wrapped in sweet words.

Interesting, I murmured, a small, almost amused smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. I was actually considering letting go myself. Be my guest. Take him. Hes clearly yours typenothing more, nothing less.

Her confident smile flickered ever so slightly, a fraction of uncertainty, but I offered her no time to recover.

However, I added smoothly, tilting my head in deliberate, measured calm, I make my own choices, too. My clients, my work. And youll need someone else to capture your wedding. I wont be part of your big day.

I didnt wait for her to respond. I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving her frozen, words stuck halfway out of her mouth, speechless.

---

After everything Marcello had done earlier that morning, the thought of returning to the apartment filled me with hesitation. I had even gone so far as to block his number. Serafinas words had confirmed what I had already known in my heartI had no reason to linger in that space any longer. Only seven days remained before I left the city for Melbourne, and most of my belongings were either packed or sent ahead. The apartment was little more than a temporary storage space now, holding only the absolute essentials.

That evening, I decided to head back to my mothers house.

When she opened the door and saw me standing there with my bags in hand, the initial shock on her face softened almost immediately, replaced by a warm, welcoming smile that seemed to melt away months of tension.

I missed you, I whispered, stepping forward to wrap her in a tight, lingering embrace. Can I stay with you until I leave for Melbourne?

Her arms enveloped me firmly, grounding me. Of course, darling. Youll always be my little girl, no matter how far you go.

Her warmth, her gentle voice, reminded me of something I had long neglectedthe need for comfort, for security. Since college, I had insisted I was independent, self-sufficient. Yet here I was, seeking refuge in my mothers embrace, craving the safety I had pretended I didnt need.

The next morning, as we sat over breakfast, I finally voiced my plans.

Im going to start over, Mom. A new identity. I might even take your last name while Im at it. Is that okay?

She listened quietly, her gaze soft and understanding. When I finished, she simply smiled, nodding without hesitation.

If this is what youve truly decided, I wont question it, she said gently, her tone steady and comforting.

Thanks, Mom, I murmured, feeling the weight of her unwavering support settle over me like armor.

---

Three days later, my mother had to leave on a sudden business trip.

Since youre here, can you stay and keep an eye on things while Im away? she asked, sipping her coffee casually. The housekeeper will be here, but I need someone to feed the dogs and watch over the house.

Her two tiny, energetic terriers yipped and bounded around, spoiled and mischievous. I laughed softly.

Of course, Mom. Ive got it covered, I replied.

She nodded, satisfied, then added another request, her voice quieter this time. Also I need your help relocating your fathers grave.

I froze, taken aback by the sudden weight of her words.

The cemetery is being renovated, she explained. I thought it would be better to move him to a larger plot, somewhere more central in the city.

I hesitated, considering my plans for Melbourne. Originally, I had intended to stay there for only a year, but perhaps I could settle long-term, make it my new base.

Should we move him to Melbourne, then? I asked cautiously, unsure if it would feel right.

My mother reached over, squeezing my hand gently. No, sweetheart. This is where he was born, where his life began. He would have wanted to stay here. If you miss him, you can always come back.

I nodded, a bittersweet heaviness settling in my chest.

After dropping her off at the airport, I drove straight to my fathers gravesite. I carefully gathered his urn, framed photos, and the small keepsakes left behind, cradling them like fragile treasures. Then, with my mothers car, I decided to swing by the apartment one last time to retrieve the few remaining items I hadnt sent ahead. I wanted him to see the place I had called home during college, even if only in memory.

But as soon as I opened the apartment door, I froze.

Marcello and Serafina were there.

Marcellos eyes widened the instant they landed on me. He stepped forward, curiosity and something more flashing across his features.

Isabelle where have you been staying these past few days? Your rooms empty. What does this mean?

I shrugged casually, my tone carefully detached. Oh, I heard from Serafina that you two have already set a wedding date. I guess its about time I moved out, isnt it?

Marcello whirled toward Serafina, confusion and alarm crossing his face.

Serafina dropped her gaze immediately, putting on the mask of innocence. Sorry, Marcello. My butler was planning to hire her as our wedding photographer. Maybe thats how Isabelle found out. She turned back to me, smiling apologetically, her voice sugary and calculated. But I already told Isabelleits all just an act, nothing real.

I smirked internally. So this was the web of lies they had spunperfectly synchronized deceit.

Marcello exhaled sharply and turned back to me, frustration written all over him. Isabelle Ive explained. Everything is a charade. Why wont you believe me?

Oh, I understand perfectly, I said innocently, tilting my head. Thats exactly why I made it easy for you to pretend. Imagine if your parents had walked in and seen you still living here. What chaos that would have caused.

Marcello ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. Isabelle, my parents would never come here. I wouldnt allow it. What more do you need from me?

His desperation bordered on absurdity.

Right now, he continued, trying to regain control, Serafina and I are figuring out a way out of this arranged union. Can you just calm down?

Serafina seized the moment, stepping forward with honeyed words dripping with manipulation.

Thats right, Isabelle. Weve even considered going abroad with you, she said, eyes glinting with faux sincerity. Then you could marry Marcello in secret, without his parents ever knowing.

I blinked, incredulous.

We? I asked, voice flat, dark with disbelief.

Marcello jumped in, as if rehearsed. Yes. The three of us. My parents will think I married Serafina, but in truth it will be you.

I let out a humorless chuckle, the corners of my mouth twitching.

The three of us, huh? I repeated, voice laced with mockery. How convenient.

Serafinas confidence faltered, replaced with theatrical desperation. She fell to her knees, clutching my hand with an exaggerated grip.

Isabelle what about me? she whimpered, her tone thick with calculated distress. My parents would be furious. Id have nowhere to go.

As she spoke, she shook my arm deliberately, her grip tight.

I yanked my hand back instinctively. The urn I had been holding slipped from my grasp, falling with a soft but jarring thud.

Time seemed to stretch, almost to the point of distortion, as the porcelain urn slipped from my grasp and crashed onto the marble floor, exploding into a constellation of jagged fragments. The ashes that had been contained within scattered across the tiles like gray dust caught in a sudden storm, drifting as if carried by invisible currents of betrayal.

For a moment, the world stilled. Even the hum of the city outsidethe honking cars, the distant voices, the clatter of lifefelt muffled, insignificant.

Then Serafina let out a shrill, theatrically pained scream, flailing backward as if performing for some unseen audience. Her body landed directly on the scattered shards.

Argh! she shrieked, the sound sharp and deliberate, a mixture of genuine pain and carefully feigned suffering.

A few pieces of glass pierced her wrist, leaving thin, crimson lines that caught the light. Before I could even process the scene, a shard found its way to my foot, sending a scorching spike of pain through my nerves. But nothing, absolutely nothing, matched the ache of seeing my fathers asheshis final legacysplayed across the floor, desecrated.

Marcello reacted instantly, surging toward Serafina with the frantic energy of a man desperate to control a situation spiraling out of his grasp. He scooped her into his arms, his grip tight and possessive. Serafina! Stay with me! Dont close your eyes! Are you with me? His tone was sharp, urgent, almost panicked.

And then, almost violently, his gaze snapped toward me. Rage contorted his otherwise handsome features into something raw and dangerous.

Why would you bring something so volatile into my home? he spat, his voice coiling like a whip. Look at the mess! Did you intend to hurt her, Isabelle? Did you?!

I froze.

Did he justcall my fathers urn dangerous?

He didnt inquire about the shard embedded in my foot. He didnt glance at my trembling hands or the pain etched across my features. His concern, as always, was directed entirely at Serafinathe girl who had engineered the entire incident for attention. I was invisible in that moment.

Serafina whimpered softly, curling into him as though seeking protection. Her chest rose and fell sharply, breath hitching, before she finally collapsed, fainting into Marcellos arms.

Serafina? Serafina! Marcellos voice cracked as he shook her gently, his desperation raw. Without a glance in my direction, he hoisted her higher and stormed toward the door, urgency propelling his every step.

Before he disappeared from sight, he threw me one last, venomous glare.

If anything happens to her, he hissed, teeth clenched, you will answer for it, Isabelle. Do you understand me?

I stood frozen, surrounded by shattered porcelain and my fathers scattered ashes. The cold marble pressed against my knees, cutting through my dress, yet Marcello didnt see me. He didnt see the blood trickling from my foot or the tremor in my hands. His world consisted solely of Serafinathe girl who had orchestrated her own disaster.

A hollow emptiness crept into me, heavy and suffocating. Slowly, trembling, I crouched and began to gather the pieces of the urn, treating each shard as if it could absorb my grief, as if it could somehow stitch together the fragments of my broken heart.

Tears blurred my vision, relentless and hot, as my throat tightened with unspoken sorrow. Im sorry, Dad, I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my own pulse.

It was impossible to tell which cut deeper: the violation of my fathers memory or Marcellos unyielding betrayal. After everything, why did it still sting so sharply to watch him choose Serafina over me? Why did the familiar ache of disappointment gnaw at my chest, unrelenting, cruel?

As I collected the last shards, the bitter truth hit me like shards of glass themselves. I had spent days away, hiding at my mothers house, and Marcello hadnt come once to find me. He knew exactly where I wasbut he didnt care enough to show.

From the start, I had known the truthhe never intended to make what we had permanent. That was why he insisted we conceal it from my mother. But I had been foolish, desperate enough to trust him. I had believed he would make things right on my graduation day, finally claim me, finally honor what we had shared.

The last twenty-four hours shattered that illusion. I had been the one always reaching, always mending, always begging to salvage something broken. But no more. I was done.

Hands trembling, I gathered the remaining urn fragments and ashes, inhaling shakily before straightening. I packed the final pieces of my belongings into the car, steeling myself for the last journey to my fathers resting place.

The following day, I visited the U.S. Embassy to collect my approved visa, passport, and newly issued identification. Stepping out onto the streets, a peculiar lightness filled my chesta fragment of the weight I had carried for so many years lifting, though the ache lingered stubbornly.

Night fell, and with it, a gnawing emptiness. The countless years spent bending to Marcellos whims, my silent loyalty, the endless compromisesall crashed down over me in an unrelenting wave. For the first time, I went to a club, a place I had avoided my entire life. I had spent years performing the role of the perfect girl, the dutiful partner, and none of it had mattered. Marcello had abandoned me too many times; tonight, the tables had turned. Tonight, it was I who walked away.

Initially, I was cautious. Every man who approached was met with measured distance, a defensive armor built from years of careful observation. But as the hours passed, as alcohol coursed through my veins and dulled the sharp edges of my vigilance, I allowed myself to loosen. The music wrapped around me, drowning out the days pain, letting me drift free, if only briefly.

Someone drew closer, a tall figure with dark, unreadable eyes and a smirk that hinted at both mischief and understanding. He didnt touch me. He didnt need to. He simply studied me, assessing, waiting.

Are you new here? he asked finally, his voice low, casual, but edged with something dangerous, something knowing.

I turned toward him, narrowing my eyes. Why do you ask?

You look around too much, he replied, a faint chuckle tugging at his lips. The regulars dont do that. They already know whats what. You seem like someone trying to forget.

I let out a humorless laugh. Arent we all?

Understanding flickered in his gaze, subtle but unmistakable. He extended a hand. Then maybe we can forget together.

I hesitated, then, without overthinking, took it. Even swayed by the alcohol, I maintained control, aware of my boundaries. As the room began to tilt and spin, I stepped back carefully, a small, deliberate measure of self-preservation.

The last thing I remember before everything blurred was him asking if I needed a ride home, calm and patient, a hint of care threading through his voice.

The next morning, I woke in an unfamiliar bed, sunlight cutting across crisp, foreign sheets.

I slowly pushed myself upright, pressing my palms against my temples, trying to piece together the fractured memories of the previous night. My dress clung to me in uneven folds, crumpled from sleep, and my heels had been abandoned near the door, a silent testament to my exhaustion and recklessness. The room had clearly been booked under my namemy own choice, my own mess. No one else to blame but me.

The pounding in my head wouldnt allow me to linger. Every nerve screamed for relief, for something warm and grounding. I dragged myself toward a nearby caf, each step heavy and deliberate. By the time I arrived, the place was packed with the lunchtime crowd, the murmur of voices pressing against my senses like a tide I couldnt escape.

A bowl of steaming broth arrived before me, the rich aroma sharp against the dull fog in my mind. I stirred it slowly, hoping warmth might revive my scattered thoughts.

Then, a voice cut through the buzzlow, deliberate, and impossible to ignore:

Isabelle.

I froze, my hands tightening around the bowl. The tone was familiar, weighted with authority and expectationthe kind that always demanded attention. What are you doing here?

I let out a snort, not looking up. Eating. What does it look like?

He ignored the sarcasm entirely, his dark eyes scanning me as if measuring my worth, my fragility, my state of mind. Youre not well. Whats wrong?

Why do you even care? I muttered, stirring the soup with calculated indifference, hoping my disinterest would drive him away.

Marcello slid into the seat beside me with the casual confidence of a man used to commanding every room. Isabelle, I

Save it, I cut him off, my voice sharp, slicing through the din. Go back to your colleagues, Don Marcello. No need to waste your performative concern here. Everyone knows youre set to marry Serafina. Dont pretend for me.

His jaw tightened, ready to fire back, but the words caught in my ears as a wave of dizziness swept over me. My vision blurred, the spoon slipped from my fingers, and then darkness claimed me, the last thing I registered being the panic etched across his face.

When my eyes fluttered open, I was somewhere familiarthe apartment. The faint scent of his cologne lingered on a damp towel pressed to my forehead. Slowly, I turned my head to find Marcello sitting close by, brows furrowed, his expression tense with concern.

Youre awake, he murmured, adjusting the cloth carefully.

What? I croaked, still disoriented.

You fainted at the caf, he explained quietly. High fever. I brought you here before anything worse could happen.

I attempted to push myself upright, but his hand pressed gently against my shoulder, halting me. Dont move too much, he instructed. Just rest. Thats an order.

I wanted to argueGod, I wanted tobut the softness of the blanket, the gentle pressure of his hand, and the exhaustion clawing at my bones rendered me silent.

For hours, he tended to me like a man protecting something precious, though I despised myself for letting any part of me feel comforted by him. He coaxed me to sip warm water, dabbed my forehead with the damp towel, and tucked the blanket around me each time I shifted.

A dangerous, nearly forbidden part of me felt safe again, and I hated it.

He prepared a small bowl of porridge, blowing on the spoon before lifting it to my lips. Eat, he coaxed.

I hesitated, then allowed a tiny bite. Relief softened his features, and for a brief, almost cruel moment, I felt it againthat magnetic pull that had kept me tethered to him for so long. That perilous sensation of being wanted, of being essential

But which Marcello was this? The one who treated me with care, whose gaze seemed to measure me as more than just a pawn? Or the Marcello who had abandoned me, traded me for Serafina, and silenced me with every betrayal?

A part of me wanted to believe in him, the man I had first fallen for, the man I had trusted completely.

Isabelle, he whispered, concern thick in his voice, youre burning up.

I shivered despite the warm afternoon sun outside the caf window. Its just a mild cold, I said, attempting to downplay it.

Just a mild cold? He crouched in front of me, calm but decisive. Without hesitation, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

I forced a weak laugh. And you? Dont you feel cold?

His smirk was dangerous, confident. Do you think Id ever let someone I care about freeze while I stay warm?

Back then, he had made me a priority. Picking me up after meetings, leaning against his sleek car with that infuriating grin, waiting with patience that bordered on indulgent. Wed wander the streets of the city, invisible to everyone else, steal moments no one would understand, linger in dim cafs for hours, as if the entire world had been folded just for us.

I blinked, returning to the present, as he brushed a stray lock of hair from my face.

You should rest, he murmured. Ill be here when you wake up. No one else matters right now.

My body surrendered, weighed down by exhaustion too heavy to resist. Sleepor something like itclaimed me, letting me drift into the orbit of his dangerous gravity.

Morning arrived. I found myself curled against him, his arm serving as my pillow. His eyes fluttered open as I stirred, and a small gasp escaped him.

Isabelle, he murmured, voice thick with sleep, hand instinctively reaching to my forehead.

Feeling the fever had broken, he exhaled sharply, pulling me into a protective embrace. Thank God, he whispered into my hair. You scared me yesterday.

I searched his eyes, desperate for the truth. Did loyalty, or love, still bind him to me? Could I ever trust him again?

Then his phone rang, the ringtone slicing through the fragile calm. The name on the screen twisted my stomach: Serafina.

I clenched my jaw, words slow and deliberate. Marcello can you stay here with me? Ignore her.

He shook his head without hesitation. I cant. Shes probably in the hospital. I need to answer.

Grabbing his jacket, phone pressed to his ear, he left me staring at the empty apartment. There it washis truth, unchanged and unforgiving.

I let out a bitter, humorless laugh, curling my fingers into the blanket. A small, grim smile spread across my lips. Yesterday I must have lost my mind. Well no regrets remain. Nothing to hold me back now.

I retrieved my bag, pulled out a sheet of paper, and wrote my final words to him. Placing the letter on the nightstand beside the old token he had given mea relic of trustI felt a subtle weight lift from my shoulders.

That afternoon, I met my mother at the airport, freshly returned from her business trip.

You parked the car? she asked, her usual carefulness in every movement.

Yes, Mom. Valet.

She smiled, adjusting my coat as though I were still a child leaving for school. Take care of yourself. Dont forget to call me, okay?

I swallowed, hugging her tightly. Through every move, every dream chased, every risk taken, she had remained my anchor.

Stepping back, I met her teary gaze, reminiscent of my graduation daybut this time, I didnt cry. This time, relief washed over me.

Because finally, irreversibly, I had erased him from my life.

From this day forward, I would chase my own sun, free from Marcellos shadow, from the chaos of his empire, from the dangerous pull of his loyalty to anyone but me.