Chapter 2

The next morning, my mother’s call came right on time.

Her voice was calm, but even across the ocean, I could hear the pain she was trying to hide.

“How is your recovery, sweetheart? I’m getting older. All I want is for you to come home and live in peace. Ten years, Emma. You stayed by Liam’s side with no title, no protection, no real place in that family. You endured the Miller family’s cold stares and let them treat you however they wanted.”

“Your father and I are relieved that you’re finally willing to inherit the family business. The docks, underground casinos, and gray-market networks your stepfather controls are worth more than anyone could spend in several lifetimes. From now on, you’ll never have to live at anyone else’s mercy again.”

In the past, I would have defended Liam without thinking.

I would have told her that love mattered more than power.

Now, I couldn’t say a word.

“When are you coming home?” she asked. “I’ll arrange the transfer of power.”

I looked at the old calendar on the wall, the one I had brought back from the hospital.

One date was circled in bright red.

Ten days from now would mark exactly ten years since Liam and I had fallen in love.

“Ten days,” I said. “Once I finish everything here, I’ll come back to you.”

After I hung up, I turned around sharply.

Liam was standing behind me.

I had no idea how long he had been there.

He wore a dark gray shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His hair was messy, and his brows were drawn tight as he stared at the phone in my hand.

“What happens in ten days? Who were you talking to?”

I placed my phone facedown on the table.

“A friend introduced me to a new opportunity,” I said lightly.

“The Miller family will always have a place for you.” His tone carried the easy confidence of a man who had never imagined being refused. “Even if Sophia took your position, I can arrange something better for you in the inner circle anytime.”

He still didn’t understand why I was so determined to leave the Miller family for good.

“No need.”

My refusal was cold.

He was about to lose his temper when Sophia’s soft, sweet voice drifted up from downstairs.

“Liam, we need to head back to the family estate for dinner. The elders are waiting. Don’t keep them waiting too long.”

Those words tore open the deepest wound in my heart.

When Liam and I first got together, everyone in the Miller family looked down on me.

No family background.

No power.

No connections.

In their eyes, I was never worthy of marrying into a mafia dynasty.

But back then, Liam had defended me without hesitation. He brought me to every private family dinner, and once, in front of everyone, he said, “She’s the woman I chose. If the Miller family refuses to accept her, then you refuse to accept me too.”

He had promised that as long as he was alive, I would always have a place in the Miller family.

But now, his gaze shifted away.

His voice turned awkward and distant.

“After what happened at the last family dinner, my parents haven’t been in good health. If they see you, it’ll only lead to another fight. I’ll handle the engagement slowly. Sophia grew up under the eyes of both families. Once everything settles down…”

He stopped.

Because there was no anger in my eyes.

No grievance.

Only a calm so cold it could make a person’s skin crawl.

He had already forgotten that the person who shoved me down the stairs, cracked my skull, and shattered both my legs was him.

After one compromise after another, one disappointment after another, I finally saw the truth clearly.

The person Liam had always favored, protected, and chosen had never been me.

Tears slipped silently down my face and fell onto the old scarf in my hands.

He had knitted it for me during our first winter together. He had learned clumsily for weeks, and the stitches were crooked and uneven, but it had once been my most treasured gift.

I wiped away my tears.

Then I calmly ordered the servants, “Seal off every balcony. Reinforce them all.”

After that, I tore up nine years’ worth of diaries.

I flicked the lighter and watched the scarf burn into ash.

Firelight flickered across my face.

I didn’t look out the window again.

Not even when Liam’s car left in a hurry.

For an entire week, he didn’t send a single message.

He didn’t make a single call.

I quietly packed my things and moved out of his black-and-gold mansion without a sound.

He probably thought I was throwing a tantrum.

Giving him the silent treatment.

He didn’t care.

Not until three days before I was set to leave the country.

It happened to be our tenth anniversary.

For once, Liam, who had always been cold and arrogant, called me first.

“Emma, it’s been ten years. I booked the restaurant from back then. Let’s sit down and talk.”

A text came through with the address.

It was the little Italian restaurant on a quiet corner in Charlottenburg, Berlin.

The place where we had held hands for the first time.

Every year on our anniversary, I had prepared his gift with care.

This year would be the last.

I sat quietly by the window, ordered the red wine he had loved ten years ago, and wore the dress he had once said looked beautiful on me.

Time passed minute by minute.

Half an hour went by.

He still hadn’t come.

I wasn’t in a hurry.

After all, I had already waited nine years.

Then fireworks suddenly exploded across the night sky outside the window.

I looked up and saw brilliant words blooming in the dark.

Sophia, Happy Birthday.

The entire restaurant erupted.

Guests rushed to the windows, lifting their phones to take pictures.

And in the middle of the crowd, I saw Liam at once.

He wore an expensive black-and-gold suit and held a bouquet of at least a hundred roses.

Then he dropped to one knee and proposed to Sophia in front of everyone.

Across the street, a giant digital billboard looped their engagement announcement.

The Miller family and the Brown family.

Two powerful mafia dynasties, joining forces.

An alliance meant to shake the entire underworld.

People around me whispered.

“Liam really went all out. That prime billboard costs millions of euros by the minute, and he bought it just to celebrate his childhood sweetheart’s birthday and propose.”

“I heard the woman who’s been with him for nine years was nothing but a mistress without a title.”

“The Millers and the Browns together? That’s a real alliance. Sophia is the rightful future Mrs. Miller.”

Every word cut straight through me.

I finally understood.

He had never meant to come for our tenth anniversary.

He had simply remembered me in passing because Sophia’s birthday happened to fall on the same day.

I let out a quiet sigh.

Then I picked up the anniversary gift I had prepared so carefully, a limited-edition watch he had talked about wanting for ages, and tossed it into the trash.

I stood up to leave.

But Sophia quickly stepped in front of me.

She was wearing an engagement gown, a diamond crown glittering on her head. The innocent, fragile mask she usually wore was gone, replaced by pure provocation.

“Isn’t today your tenth anniversary with Liam?” she asked. “Let me tell you something. He didn’t remember at all. He only thought of you because it happened to be my birthday.”

I gave her a faint smile.

“Is that so? Then I wish you both a long and happy marriage. Lots of children, too.”

With that, I turned to leave.

Behind me, a sudden scream rang out.

Sophia slipped and fell to the floor, knocking over the champagne tower beside her. Pale gold liquid poured all over her white engagement gown.

A dark figure rushed toward us.

Liam had come back at some point.

“Emma! Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”

Furious, he grabbed me by the collar and slammed me hard into the corner of a table.

Broken glass pierced my palm.

Blood rushed out instantly.

“I already told you the engagement is just a family arrangement! Why do you have to hurt Sophia?”

I had just opened my mouth to explain when Sophia suddenly clutched her chest.

Her face turned deathly pale. Cold sweat dotted her forehead, and her body swayed as if she might collapse at any second. Her lips took on a faint bluish tint, and her breathing came fast and uneven.

It looked like an attack brought on by her congenital heart condition.

Liam panicked at once.

He fumbled to hold her up while roaring at me, “Are you done? Sophia has had a weak heart since she was little. She’s fragile. Precious. She isn’t tough enough to survive anything like you are. If you’re so desperate to get married, go find someone else! I, Liam Miller, will never marry you in this lifetime. Get out!”

The guests around us pointed and whispered.

The sharp pain in my palm slowly went numb.

I watched as Liam carefully lifted Sophia into his arms and carried her to the car without looking back.

Just before they left, I spoke softly.

My voice wasn’t loud, but everyone there heard me.

“Liam, let’s break up. After ten years together, this is where we end.”

The car sped away, kicking up dust behind it.

I didn’t know whether he had heard me.

I stood there, watching fireworks continue to burst one after another in the night sky, watching their engagement photos loop again and again across the giant screen.

Then I looked down at my hand.

My palm was covered in blood.

Shards of glass caught the light, glinting in tiny, broken flashes.

It didn’t hurt.

Maybe when your heart hurt badly enough, your body stopped feeling anything at all.

I didn’t go to the hospital.

I found a random pharmacy, bought gauze and antiseptic, then sat on the curb and bandaged myself.

The gauze was wrapped crookedly around my hand, just like the scarf Liam had knitted for me all those years ago.

I gave a bitter smile.

Then I took out my phone and booked the earliest private flight available.

My mother’s Gulfstream.

She replied with only one sentence.

The flight plan is cleared. Leave whenever you’re ready.

I blocked Liam everywhere.

My contacts.

WhatsApp.

Every social media platform.

With one tap, I erased him.

Nine years of messages, photos, and voice notes vanished.

It turned out letting go of someone could be as simple as pressing a button.

The night before I left, I returned to Liam’s mansion one last time.

The servants were asleep.

The entire house was silent, like a tomb.

I took down the painting hanging in the deepest corner of the walk-in closet.

It was the gift I had given him on his birthday during our third year together. I had spent two full months painting it.

It showed the street corner where we had gone on our first date.

On the back of the frame was a line of small handwriting.

The luckiest thing in this life is meeting you, Emma.

I removed the painting from the frame.

Then I slowly tore it apart, taking those words with it.

The moment the scraps fell into the trash, I heard something inside me finally snap.

Before boarding, messages from an unknown number came one after another.

Where are you? Stop being stubborn.

Emma, are you really leaving?

Can you really leave me?

I don’t believe you can let me go.

A long time passed before the final message came through.

Emma, I was wrong. Don’t go.

I stared at those words for a few seconds.

Then I picked up my phone and dropped it into the airport trash can.

The dull sound of metal hitting plastic was crisp.

Final.

As the plane taxied onto the runway, a fine rain began to fall over Berlin.

Raindrops slid down the window in long, thin trails, like the city’s last attempt to ask me to stay.

I didn’t look back.