Eight Years of Love, One Day to Walk Away

Lorenzo Marchetti and I had been bound by a betrothal pact for eight years. He poured everything into the Family. When the territory grew restless, he wouldn't even answer my calls, and more often than not, the Family's business made him forget every name-day we ever shared.

Everyone in our circle would tell me:

The Marchetti heir is handsome and powerful, devoted to the famiglia and not the type to dishonor a betrothal. Isn't that a good thing?

He's just cold by nature, raised to give nothing away. That's how I kept comforting myself.

But three days before the alliance union, I found tens of thousands of photos of the same woman saved on his computer.

Each one carefully labeled with a date.

My birthday, the saint's feast we'd marked, the anniversary of the night our families sealed the pact

That night, I searched through every corner of his machine and found a hidden account buried beneath layers no monitored line was meant to reach.

Thousands of posts inside, delicate words and photographs documenting every story between him and another girl.

So it turned out Lorenzo hadn't been carrying the weight of the Family at all. He'd simply been keeping another woman behind my back.

I faced the fact that he didn't love me, and quietly arranged passage to an allied family's overseas territory for the day of our union.

Then I watched, calm and still, as he went on performing like nothing was wrong.

Until, on the day of the union itself, the bride was gone, and he was the one who came undone.

Lorenzo Marchetti and I had been bound by a betrothal pact for eight years.

Three days before the alliance union, I found tens of thousands of photos of the same woman saved on his computer.

I quietly arranged passage out of the territory for the day of our union.

I watched, calm and still, as he went on performing like nothing was wrong.

On the day of the union, the bride was gone, and he was the one who fell apart.

"Don Bruno, is that placement in the overseas territory you mentioned still open? I've made up my mind. I want to go."

When the old Capo heard me agree to the relocation, his voice filled with relief.

"Of course, cara. I'll see your papers moved tonight. Only, I heard your union was close"

"It's fine. There's no union anymore. Don't trouble yourself over it."

There was a faint tremor in my voice.

To keep him from hearing it, I ended the line the moment I finished speaking.

My eyes stayed fixed on the tens of thousands of photos of that woman on Lorenzo's screen, lost somewhere far away.

After our families brought us up into the life, we'd both come to serve under the same crest, the two of us in different corners of the operation.

Tonight he'd gone to a send-off his men were throwing for him, his line switched dark.

His own people couldn't reach him and needed word on a shipment urgently, so the call finally landed on me.

And so, for the first time, I opened his computer, only to find these photos.

In an instant, eight years of memories came flooding into my mind.

In all the time the pact had bound us, there had never been a single photo of me on his phone, never any record of the two of us at all.

No matter how much I cried, no matter how I carried on, all he ever said was that we saw each other every day, so there was no need to keep mementos.

Only in this moment did I finally understand. It wasn't that there was no need. It was that I had never been a necessity to him.

For eight years, I'd found every excuse for his coldness.

My stubbornness looked like a joke.

The words his man had let slip when he learned of the union suddenly rang in my ears:

"Well, well. I thought you'd carry the torch for Adriana Falcone to your grave. You're really sealing the pact? This isn't out of spite, is it?"

Back then I hadn't noticed the flicker in Lorenzo's eyes as he struck his chest and swore:

"We're doing this for love."

Only now did I understand why his man had asked that question, and now I no longer had any conviction left to say those same words.

I drew a few deep breaths and closed the laptop.

I opened my phone meaning to tell Lorenzo I wanted to break the pact, only to see he hadn't even answered the message I'd sent the day before about choosing my gown for the union.

I tapped into his feed. The background was pitch black, not a single post.

Just one lonely word beneath his picture.

Wait.

A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, and I sank weakly into the couch.

Before, I hadn't known he was hiding someone else in his heart. I'd only thought he was cold, raised to give nothing away.

Thinking about it now, I'd been laughably naive.

I'd asked him about that single word so many times, and he had never once answered.

Now I finally knew who he'd been waiting for.

Three days until our quiet, modest union. I'd set the countdown as my phone's wallpaper, a daily reminder to myself.

Watching the numbers tick down second by second on the screen, I rubbed my aching eyes and pushed down the exhaustion crowding my chest.

Just as I was about to confirm my passage, one of Lorenzo's men called me.

"Francesca Russo, Lorenzo's had too much to drink. Maybe you could come get him and take him home. I'll send you where we are."

Through the receiver, I faintly heard Lorenzo's familiar voice calling out, "Adriana."

My heart was wrenched up without warning. My thumb pressed to the bare place on my ring finger, the space where no ring had ever sat, and turned against it the way it always did.

The other end immediately muffled the phone and the line went dead.

I shook my head and shook off the feeling I had no right to feel, changed my clothes, and walked to the entryway, only then noticing Lorenzo's half of the matched keychain I'd so carefully chosen, tossed carelessly onto the cabinet.

I'd had it made at a quiet little shop off the books, the design drawn from our own story.

He'd said it was too sentimental and never once carried it.

After a moment's thought, I picked up the keychain and dropped it into the trash.

When I looked up, I caught sight of the matched cups under the table, still sealed in their packaging, never opened.

As if silently mocking my one-woman show.

A helpless irritation surged through me. I took up the bin and dropped every paired thing we owned into the bag.

After setting the trash out, I called a car to the address his man had sent.

I want to see with my own eyes what the person I've been waiting for for eight years really looks like.

The place was one of the Family's quieter rooms above a social club, the kind where a wrong word ended men and the wine was always too good. The moment I reached the door, laughter and teasing drifted out from inside.

"How come Adriana's back today? Don't tell me she heard our Lorenzo's sealing his pact and started having regrets?"

I drew a deep breath, tugged a smile to the corner of my mouth, reached out, and pushed the door open.

The laughter inside cut off instantly, every face turning away, every hand going still.

The man who was meant to stand beside me in three days lay in a woman's arms, his face soft and tender with an affection I had never once been given.

That woman's face, I had just seen countless times on his screen.

Lorenzo's man hadn't expected me to reach the back room so fast. He scrambled to pull Lorenzo off Adriana.

But Lorenzo had clearly poured down more than his share. He didn't react at all.

He only slurred out a curse. "Get off me. Don't touch me."

I'd never seen him this far gone.

His associate leaned close to his ear, voice low and urgent, the way men spoke when something delicate was about to break in front of witnesses. "Francesca's here to take you home. Pull yourself together. The alliance union's only days off now."

Two more soldiers moved in, and after a great deal of effort they finally pried Lorenzo's hand loose from Adriana's.

His body dropped heavily back into the leather, his face flushed scarlet.

Only then did the man let out a breath and turn to make the introduction.

"This is Adriana Falcone. We came up together. She went overseas years back and only returned today, just in time for our sit-down. Lorenzo's had too much, so don't read anything into it."

The old me might have lost it right there and demanded answers.

Every soul in that room knew Lorenzo and I were promised, the betrothal pact sealed between bloodlines. So why let a Falcone daughter walk in? Why not close the door?

But now I only gave an indifferent little smile.

Off to the side, Adriana watched me with a look of amused curiosity.

Then the man started to name who I was.

The moment the word "betrothed" left his mouth, Lorenzo, who had been silent in the cushions, snapped upright, his voice furious.

"She's a friend."

In that instant the hand hidden beneath my sleeve clenched tight.

My nails dug into my palm until it ached, and a faint tremor ran through my fingers.

The faces around me shifted. Their eyes told me how awkward this had become, how badly a made man had just shamed the woman pledged to him.

It wasn't the first time Lorenzo hadn't wanted my place at his side made known.

I'd read the ending of us long ago, back when he refused to let us be seen together at the social club, refused to speak my name to his soldiers, refused to summon either bloodline or a single friend to the union.

I'd just been unwilling to accept it, wanting to gamble once on eight years.

And I'd lost anyway.

I held the smile in place and gave Adriana a nod.

"Hello. I'm Francesca Russo, Lorenzo's friend. You're even lovelier than they say."

The moment I finished, the private room went dead silent. Even the low clink of glass at the far table stopped.

Everyone traded glances, each face wearing a different look.

Adriana smiled, unbothered, and reached for the fruit plate on the table.

But Lorenzo, who had just slumped down, sat bolt upright again.

"Adriana, you're allergic to mango. You can't eat that."

Her hand froze midair. His earnestness seemed to amuse her. She tilted her head, and her voice dropped soft and wounded a half-second too soon.

"How are you exactly the same as ten years ago? You silly thing. That's watermelon. You're drunk."

In that moment something seemed to detonate inside my head.

The shards tore my heart to a bloody pulp.

So it wasn't that he couldn't remember. He just didn't care about me.

In eight years I'd reminded him countless times that I couldn't touch seafood, yet a seafood house was always his first choice when he troubled himself to take me anywhere at all.

I went from angry at the start, to giving in later, to even lying to myself.

He was simply worn down by the weight of the Family. There was no room left in his head for anything else.

But tonight reality jolted me awake all over again.

Every small thing laid the truth bare. He didn't love me.

I hauled him up off the couch, my face blank, and went down to the street to flag a car. Adriana came after me.

Her tender eyes crinkled with a smile as she looked at Lorenzo's face.

And she gave me careful instructions.

"Lorenzo can't hold his liquor, and the ingredients in the hangover remedies don't agree with him. When you get him home, make him a cup of honey water. The water can't run hotter than a hundred and forty degrees. He'll come around soon. Otherwise his head will split when he wakes."

These were things Lorenzo had never once told me.

I clenched my teeth and said nothing, turning to get into the car.

But she called me back again.

"Oh, and let me give you my line. If anything's wrong with him tonight, you can reach me."

"Lorenzo sleeps badly after drinking. You'll have to watch him all night. If he kicks off the covers, put them back at once, or he'll run a fever tomorrow for certain."

My nails pressed so hard they nearly broke the skin, my lashes trembling without stop.

I stared into her innocent eyes for a long moment, then finally nodded.

We traded contacts. Only then did I see that the photo behind her name was one of her and Lorenzo together.

In the picture, the two of them ten years younger looked fresh and unmarked by any of this, their eyes resolute, fingers laced tight.

The moment the car door shut behind me, tears slid silently from the corners of my eyes.

I used to hear people speak of a first love, the one that got away, and I scoffed at it.

Sincerity, held onto long enough, always earns sincerity back.

But in this moment, that belief of mine wavered. My fingers found the bare space on my ring finger where no ring had ever sat, and twisted at nothing.

On the way back, Lorenzo's phone buzzed against the leather seat more than once. Every message was from Adriana, asking whether he'd made it back to the compound safely.

I unlocked the screen, meaning to send some polite reply for him.

Instead, I saw the thread he kept with one of his own circle.

The sham betrothal is my last play. If she still won't cross back over, then I really will have to let her go.

Put the word out in the family that the alliance union is happening. Don't say anything more to anyone else.

My finger stopped where it pressed against the screen, and I shut the phone off all at once.

My breathing turned ragged before I could stop it.

No matter how wide I opened my mouth, the air wouldn't seem to reach my chest.

The tears slid down from the corners of my eyes, freer and fiercer now.

No wonder he'd suddenly offered me the pact three days ago.

No ring, no home behind the family walls, no betrothal gift laid before our fathers.

Only one line: don't breathe a word of it to my family.

I'd thought he felt some shame for denying me the proper rites, thought eight years of devotion had finally moved something in him.

I never imagined the union I'd waited eight years for was nothing more than a chip thrown on the table to bait Adriana Falcone back across the line.

The last thread of reluctance I'd held onto for this betrothal finally burned out completely.

All I could do was keep comforting myself.

Since I'd already decided to slip away to the family's overseas territory, none of what they did had anything to do with me anymore.

By the time the car rolled through the gates and we reached the house, Lorenzo had sobered some. He walked straight to the bathroom to wash up.

I made him the honey water Adriana had described, every step the way she'd laid it out.

These were the last three days. I didn't want to leave myself any regrets in this betrothal.

I'd just sat down on the couch when Don Bruno called. The line was a clean one, the kind the family kept for matters that couldn't travel on the open air.

He wanted to talk about handing off my standing here before I left for his overseas operation.

The moment the call ended, Lorenzo's irritated voice cut in out of nowhere.

"Leave? Where are you going?"

He was toweling his dripping hair with one hand, his face blank as he questioned me.

I handed him the honey water and answered evenly.

"It's nothing. Family business out of town."

He couldn't be bothered to think about it, or maybe he simply didn't care about anything that touched me.

He took the cup and lowered his head to drink, only to find the honey stirred into it.

His brows knotted instantly.

He snapped at me, his voice angry.

"Who taught you that?"

"Don't go listening to whatever you hear from the wrong people. What works for one doesn't work for everybody."

He set the cup down hard on the table, deliberate enough that the sound carried, and turned to go back to the bedroom.

A bitter smile rose to my lips before I could help it.

Of course. The Falcone girl's method wasn't something I was allowed to borrow.

The next day was the date we'd set for the alliance photographs, the ones meant to be passed between the two bloodlines as proof the union was real.

Lorenzo woke acting like nothing had happened, his manner toward me as cold as ever.

But after seeing how tender he turned with Adriana in that private room, I could never again believe the coldness was simply his nature.

The moment we finished eating and made ready to go out, he glanced at his phone.

He spoke up suddenly. "Let's not take the photographs at the park. Let's go to a school instead. I hear that's the fashion now."

My hands froze over the dishes I was clearing.

"Sure, whatever. We'll do it your way."

I knew exactly why he'd changed his mind at the last hour.

Because that morning Adriana had let it slip across her circle that she was visiting her old school, missing the place where she'd grown up before the families sent her abroad.

I didn't call out the childish lie to his face. I simply didn't want to shame myself with the betrothal this close to its end.

There was only a day and a half left before I crossed over to Don Bruno's territory. I wanted to leave us both some dignity.

I'd already guessed how the day would go before we left, so I'd chosen an alliance gown I could actually walk in.

The photographer led us out onto the school field. Lorenzo gazed off into the distance for a long while, until at last he found a familiar figure waiting in the shade beneath the trees.

He didn't say a word to me. The next second, he turned and walked straight off to find Adriana.

I looked at the bewildered photographer and gave him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry to bring you all this way for nothing. Let's call it a day. You'll still be paid in full."

The gown I'd chosen was cut for movement, but crossing that schoolyard track in heels was nearly impossible, the thin spikes catching in the grit between the lanes.

By the time I finally reached Lorenzo, he was deep in conversation with Adriana, all animated smiles and easy chatter, the kind of ease our families had spent eight years pretending didn't cross bloodlines.

His groom's jacket lay tossed carelessly on the ground.

The moment his eyes landed on me, his brow furrowed hard.

As if terrified I'd let something slip and expose what the betrothal pact between us really was, right there in front of a Falcone.

He spoke quickly.

"What are you doing here? I'm just talking with an old friend for a bit."

My face froze. I forced my lips into a smile.

"There's business at the club I didn't finish, so I have to head back. I'm in the gown and didn't bring my phone, so I came over to tell you in person."

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.

The old me would have soured on the spot, but this time I didn't say a word more. I had no wish to be an eyesore in front of him.

His expression eased. He gave a nod and said nothing.

I turned and walked off, my ankles rolling with every step.

The voices behind me grew faint, hard to make out.

"Don't read into it. It was just a photographer's setup, and they insisted on shooting me with her"

I wasn't lying. After I got back, I spent the whole day at the social club, signing off my obligations and handing my work to the associates who'd cover for me.

But when I came home that night, he'd unexpectedly set out dinner and was waiting for me.

The instant I walked in, he tucked his phone away, his expression a little awkward, the cufflink at his wrist turning slow between his thumb and finger.

"You're back. Why so late today? Dinner's ready. This morning, seeing you in that gown, you looked like you'd lost some weight..."

My steps paused for a beat.

Had I lost weight?

It seemed I'd barely eaten since the moment I saw those photos.

Now, looking at the table piled with heavy, oil-slicked dishes, my brow drew tight.

"You eat. I have no appetite. I'm going to rest."

As I turned, the heel-blistered, broken skin on my ankle came into Lorenzo's view.

I'd just stepped into the bedroom when he came up to me carrying the first-aid kit, the same one the Family doctor kept stocked in every safehouse, the one men reached for after worse nights than this.

In all my memory, this seemed to be the first time in eight years he'd shown me any concern.

A pity the wound had already scabbed over, and I no longer needed him.

I gently declined his kindness. Lorenzo's face darkened a shade.

He went back out and brought a slice of cake, setting it on the nightstand.

"I'm sorry. This morning I really didn't expect her to show up at that school. Someone you've known that long, you can't just not say hello when you run into them. Don't overthink it, I"

Before he could finish, I glanced at the cake on the nightstand and cut him off.

"I quit sugar a long time ago. I only eat boiled vegetables now. Did you forget?"

To be in peak shape for the alliance union, I'd lived almost like a cloistered nun for nearly a week.

He hadn't cared in the slightest.

After all our years bound by the pact, his first attempt to bend was met with one refusal after another.

Lorenzo's expression finally hardened, settling back into its usual cold remove, the cufflink going still between his fingers.

This time he turned and walked out of the room, and didn't come back in.

By the small hours, my stomach was growling.

When I got up and tiptoed out for water, I caught the faint glow of his phone screen in the dark of the living room.

The light fell across Lorenzo's face. His fingers flew across the keys, his eyes crinkled with a smile, the kind he never wore for me.

I remembered him saying he never stayed up late, which was why he wouldn't see in the New Year at my side, and my heart cooled a few degrees more.

I didn't get the water. I just turned and went back to the room.

The last day was the one we'd set for the families to sanction the union, the signatures that would have made it as binding as a blood oath.

The moment I walked out of the room, he was already nowhere to be found.

Not a word of explanation. Not a single message.

Out of habit, I opened Adriana's feed, and sure enough, she'd posted an update: laid up at the Family doctor's safehouse, an IV line in her arm.

When will you ever learn to take care of yourself? Ten years gone, and you still have to lean on him.

A grown woman who knew exactly what she was allergic to, and somehow she ends up on a drip. I knew how that trick was played. Tilt the head, drop the voice to a wounded whisper a half-second before the tears come, and let a man rush in to catch her.

I had no way of proving it, and no wish to waste more time on her.

I spent the whole day packing my bags.

By evening, Lorenzo still hadn't appeared.

He'd only sent one message about being held up on business.

I looked at those few words on the screen, full of scorn.

He wouldn't even bother to think up a decent lie.

The day before, I'd reached his capo on a monitored line, and the man had gone out of his way to say they'd cleared Lorenzo's obligations so he could take his wedding leave with peace of mind.

I supposed he was "held up on business" at the safehouse right about now, holding her hand.

In the dead of night, the countdown on my phone screen finally turned to zero.

I made do on the couch for the night, and the next morning, after washing up, I headed straight for the airport, to the plane that would carry me to the allied family's overseas territory.

On the way, I couldn't help feeling relieved.

Thank God the union was a sham and I hadn't told my own bloodline. Otherwise I really wouldn't have known how to explain fleeing an alliance to my father, what dishonor it would have dragged across our name.

The moment I stepped into the terminal, I called Lorenzo to end it.

The phone rang exactly once before he cut it off.

Then he sent a voice message.

His tone dripping with impatience.

"I'll be there soon, what's the rush? I said we're having the union, what, you think I'm going to run off?"

"Adriana checked out early just to make it, and got caught in a wreck on the way over. Can't you be a little more reasonable?"

"You keep my people entertained for now. I've got something to tell you today."

When the message finished playing, I tapped out a text to him, my face blank.

Let's end it. I'm leaving the wedding to the two of you.