CHAPTER 3

The next morning at dawn, a sharp pounding shattered the silence.

I opened the door to find Matteo in full black tactical gear, his expression carrying its usual cold severity.

"You were gone all night. The estate had no one on watch, and logistics fell apart. Do you have any idea how close we came to a security crisis?"

Instead of scrambling to apologize the way I always had, I kept my head down and continued organizing my design instruments.

Seeing that I didn't react, Matteo's gaze swept over the equipment in my hands, his tone dripping with contempt. "Why are you still holding on to this outdated junk?"

Junk?

"Matteo, have you forgotten that this so-called junk is exactly what turned the tide for you?"

Matteo's face darkened. He had no understanding of my restraint or my heartbreak. He pressed impatiently, "Did you finish preparing everything I assigned you yesterday? I'm leaving soon."

"No." My voice was flat as I continued packing my things.

"Serena!"

His tone turned sharp, carrying the full weight of the Don's authority. "This deal determines the Family's survival. Can you afford the consequences of holding things up?"

"Handle it yourself." I straightened and met his gaze, my eyes holding nothing but indifference. "I'm tired. I don't want to clean up after you anymore."

Matteo stared at me in disbelief, as if seeing me for the first time. "You sit around in logistics all day with everything provided for you, and handling a few small tasks wears you out? Stop throwing a tantrum."

He turned and sat down on the sofa. A servant came in from outside, wheeling in a three-tiered buttercream cake. The moment the servant noticed me, his expression tensed, as if he were hiding something.

It obviously wasn't meant for me. Bianca Falcone's name was written across it.

I remembered ten years ago, right after we'd survived the most dangerous faction siege, hiding out in a border town just to stay alive.

A bakery window on the street had displayed cakes of every kind. Matteo had pulled a burger from inside his jacket and pressed it into my hands. His voice was quiet. "Do you want some cake?"

We'd just barely escaped with our lives. We had no money.

I shook my head quickly. "Just looking. I like burgers better anyway."

Matteo slammed his fist into the snowbank on the roadside and swore to me, "Rena, once I've made it, I'll buy every bakery on this street and have them all bake for you."

But later, when we were out and passed a bakery and I was about to bring it up, he'd cut me off with irritation. "How old are you? You still want kid stuff?"

Those promises had just been empty words to keep me going.

I took out my phone and calmly called the Family's ceremonial office, canceling the engagement ceremony that was supposed to formalize our ten years together.

Matteo's eyes went cold. "Why are you canceling the engagement ceremony?"

"It's off. Our engagement is void."

Matteo studied me for a long time, dismissing it as a tantrum. His reassurance was half-hearted at best. "We've been together ten years. A title is just a formality. There's no need to make an issue of it."

I looked up at him suddenly.

"If I left one day, walked away from you for good, what would you do?"

Matteo froze for a moment, then laughed out loud, dripping with arrogance. "Serena, everything you have came from me. Without my protection, where would you even go? You wouldn't dare leave, and you couldn't if you tried."

The last of my attachment went quiet. He had mistaken my devotion for dependence.

After everything I'd given him over ten years, he saw it as nothing more than a way for me to cling to him for survival.

I was about to speak when a commotion erupted outside. "Princess, you can't go in there. This is Ms. Conti's private residence."

Bianca Falcone ignored my bodyguard's attempts to stop her and barged straight in.

Matteo immediately rose to greet her, a tenderness in his eyes I had never seen before.

"Matteo, I'm here!"

Matteo never allowed anyone in the organization to address him as anything but "Don."

Even in front of the staff, I could only call him "Don Rinaldi."

Bianca Falcone's eyes lit up at the sight of the buttercream cake. "Matteo! You actually made me a cake yourself!"

Matteo was allergic to eggs and never went near anything made with them. A cook who'd joined the staff once made the mistake of asking about it, and by the next day, the cook had vanished.

Bianca Falcone ignored my presence entirely, smiling as she drew a revolver from the holster at her hip. "Matteo, I've been practicing my aim. It's gotten so much better. Want me to show you?"

She scanned the room for a target, and her gaze landed on me. "How about her?"

My bodyguard stepped forward. "Watch yourself. This is Ms. Conti. She's the underboss of this organization."

Tears spilled down Bianca Falcone's cheeks. "I'm sorry! I just got here. I didn't know. It's just... Matteo told me I wouldn't have to answer to anyone once I joined the organization."

Matteo raised a hand to stop her apology, his tone indulgent. "It's fine. Not your fault. Serena's tough. A few bullets won't kill her."

Ten years of taking bullets for him. Ten years of surgical pins holding my bones together.

Bianca Falcone winked playfully, deliberately glancing my way. "Someone with skin as delicate as mine definitely can't compare to a battle-hardened veteran like Serena."

Matteo sneered. "She's as rough as they come. Nothing feminine about her. Why would you even compare yourself to that?"

One careless sentence erased ten years of sacrifice and restraint. I clenched my jaw, fighting back tears, grabbed my bags, and walked to the door.

This might be the last time I'd ever see him. I turned and said quietly, "Matteo, I'm leaving."

But he was too busy cutting cake with Bianca Falcone to spare me even a glance.