Chapter 2

In high school, he had a crush on her so bad and talked about her every day. I was sick and tired of that name.

Before he got the chance to confess, she left for Italy.

Later, after one crazy night between us, we got closer and closer. I thought he'd already let go that teenage story.

Turns out, the first love he never mentioned—he also never forgot.

The ache I'd just managed to press down surged back all at once, like someone was gripping my heart tightly. My hand went limp, and my phone hit the floor with a loud "bang," hairline cracks spider-webbing along the edge of the screen.

He looked back, smiled with a lazy expression. "Just leave the room key at the front desk. I've already paid."

He picked up his jacket with one hand and walked to the door, then turned back, lips curled in a half-smile. "Serena, I've always seen you as my most loyal subordinate. Don't show me that dead-inside expression again, or I'll think you're having some inappropriate thoughts about me. Besides, you are too obedient in front of me. If we were actually together, life would get boring fast."

The door closed with a soft click, but in my chest the sound echoed on and on.

I sat down on the cold edge of the bed and started to laugh. I laughed and laughed until my tears welled up.

So this was how he'd seen me all these years.

I stayed there alone until late at night before finally going downstairs to check out.

Outside, heavy rain fell like a solid curtain. I was soaked through, but I barely felt it as I walked home through the puddles.

My parents rushed to the door to meet me, shoving towels into my hands and asked with concern, "It's pouring out there, why didn't you take a cab?"

I looked at them, my voice hoarse, exhaustion seeping out of every word. "Mom, Dad... you've always wanted to emigrate, right? I've thought it through. Let's do it. Let's move away—and never come back."

They'd been trying to talk me into it for half a year. Now I was saying yes, they suddenly froze. "You really made up your mind? Did you break up with that boyfriend?"

Thinking of the things he'd just said, my chest burned and ached all over again. I pulled out a bitter little smile. "There was no boyfriend. There never was. I made him up so you’d stop being on my case of marriage."

They half believed me, half didn't, but they were happy anyway. They immediately started handling paperwork and told me to pack my things.

I answered and went back to my room, dragging out everything that had to do with him—the thick photo albums from more than ten years together, the jewelry and dresses he'd given me, the little hand-carved figurines on my bookshelf...

One by one, I threw them all into the trash.

Our housekeeper watched, heartbroken, and carefully asked, "Miss Serena, so many nice things... you're really throwing them all away?"

I nodded, my voice so soft it felt like it was dissolving in the air. "I don't want them anymore."

And not just those.

This whole thing between us—and Gabriel himself—

I was going to throw all of it away.

The next morning, my phone buzzing woke me up.

Message after message scrolled up the screen—Gabriel had sent dozens, asking what time I was coming over.

I stared at those words, a bitter heaviness spreading through my chest like an old wound soaked and dried in the rain.

My fingers trembled as I typed: "Not feeling well. Not going."

A few minutes later, my parents knocked on my door.

"Serena, even if you and Gabriel are having a fight, this really isn’t the time," my dad said. "Change your clothes and go over there. You know how much he likes Amelie—he chased her down to confess the minute she came back to New York. He's not good with words, he specifically asked me to talk you into helping him."

Mom chimed in, "Yeah, it's not easy for that kid either. He grew up all alone in that huge villa. He finally falls for someone now."

I listened as something heavy pressed down on my chest, the pain so deep it felt numb.

They had no idea—that villa next door was nothing but his cover.

As the heir of the Celeste family, showing himself too early would only make him in danger.

He isolated himself in that house so the guns and the attention wouldn’t notice him.

And me, the fool who always thought I was 'close' to him, had actually been kept at a safe distance the whole time.