The next day, I went to the Luccarelli office as usual.

No one would have guessed anything was wrong.

I spent the morning going over reports and signing papers, handing off my projects to Antonio one by one. The other employees whispered among themselves.

“Did she and Vincenzo fight again?”

“They always fight. They’ll make up by the end of the week. We all know they love each other!”

“Vincenzo’s probably just busy with that Seraphina girl. You know how he is.”

Antonio pulled me aside at lunch.

“Elena, are you sure about this? Vincenzo and his family will be furious if you cancel the engagement.”

“I’m not marrying him.”

Antonio sighed. “Alright. But take some time off, okay? You’ve been working too hard. The office will be here when you get back.”

That afternoon, a delivery arrived at the office: a dozen red roses and a black American Express card.

The note was in Vincenzo’s messy handwriting: “Stop being a brat. Come home when you’re done pouting.”

I handed the roses to my assistant. “Throw these away.”

I gave the card back to the delivery man. “Return this to sender.”

I knew Vincenzo would be furious when he got the card back. He would tell his men I would come crawling back when I realized I could not live without him.

That afternoon, Seraphina was loitering in the Luccarelli lobby.

When I walked out, she ran up to me, waving the marriage license.

Marco stepped between us immediately, blocking her path.

“Vincenzo says he’ll divorce me in a week,” Seraphina said, her voice sweet and poisonous. “But I think you should just give up. He loves me, not you. You’re just a business deal to him.”

I stared at the marriage license in her hand, a cold, heavy ache settled in my chest.

I knew Vincenzo had loved me once, but that was long gone. He had someone new now.

Seeing my blank expression, Seraphina’s irritation flared. She went on: “Oh, and you probably haven’t heard—I’m carrying Vincenzo’s baby.”

Those words hit me like a thunderbolt.

Of course. They had been fooling around for three years; a baby was inevitable.

That was probably why they had gotten married in the first place.

My face remained impassive.

“Okay, then, congratulations.”

I did not even look at her. I walked past her and got into the car. The Bentley pulled away, leaving her standing in the street, red-faced and furious.

That evening, my phone rang.

It was Vincenzo.

“I’m having a birthday party for you at the Long Island estate tonight,” he said, his voice still arrogant.

“All the family’s there. Don’t be late. Show up, apologize, and this whole thing is over.”

I hesitated.

It was my twenty-seventh birthday. We had been planning this party for months.

“Fine,” I said finally. “I’ll come.”

I did not go to apologize. I went to say goodbye.

To say goodbye to the seven years I had spent loving him.

The man who had risked everything to save me five years ago had died the day he met Seraphina three years prior.

The Long Island estate was ablaze with chandeliers and floodlights when I arrived. Cars lined the driveway, and music drifted through the open windows.

I walked into the ballroom, and the room went quiet.

All the Ferraro and Luccarelli cousins were there, staring at me.

I heard the whispers.

“Seraphina’s so much nicer than her.”

“Vincenzo made the right choice. Elena’s too cold.”

“She’ll never be a good Ferraro wife.”

Those words landed like a lead weight in my stomach.

Once, all they had ever given me was flattery.

Seraphina walked toward me, wearing the red silk dress I had picked out for my own birthday. Around her neck was the diamond necklace Vincenzo had given me for our anniversary.

I had designed that necklace myself, and now he had given it to someone else.

Fine. It didn’t matter anymore. We were over.

I didn’t care who he gave it to.

“Elena!” she said, holding out a small gift box. “I’m so sorry about everything. This is for you. I hope you can forgive me.”

I did not take the box. “I didn’t come here for presents. I came to tell everyone that Vincenzo and I are no longer engaged. I wish you both the best.”

A dead silence fell over the entire room.

Vincenzo walked up behind Seraphina, his face dark. “That’s enough, Elena. You’re embarrassing yourself. Come with me.”

He grabbed my arm. I pulled away hard.

“Don’t touch me.”

Seizing her chance as Vincenzo stumbled back from my pull, she stumbled backward, tripping over her own feet. She fell to the floor with a cry, clutching her stomach.

“Ah! My stomach!” she wailed. “Vincenzo, it hurts!”

Vincenzo ran to her side, lifting her into his arms. He turned to me, his eyes blazing with rage.

“Elena! What the fuck is wrong with you? She’s pregnant!”

The room erupted in murmurs. Everyone was staring at me, their eyes full of judgment.

I looked at Vincenzo, holding Seraphina like she was the most precious thing in the world.

The last bit of warmth in my eyes died.

I replied. “I did not touch her. I hope she's alright.”

Then I turned and walked out of the ballroom, without looking back.

Vincenzo shouted after me.

“Elena! Get back here!”

I kept walking.

I heard one of his men ask if he should follow me.

“No,” Vincenzo said. “Let her go. She’ll come back when she cools off. Just make sure she gets to her car safely. Call doctors!”

I got in my car and drove toward the private airstrip.

I sat in the back of the private jet as it lifted off the ground, watching New York City shrink beneath me.

Marco sat across from me.

I pulled out my phone and removed the SIM card, breaking it in half and dropping it into a glass of champagne.

I had left the engagement ring Vincenzo had given me on the kitchen counter of the Manhattan apartment. It was the only thing I had left of him, and I did not want it.

For three years, I had built my life around him. I had put my dreams on hold, I had forgiven every betrayal, I had loved him even when he did not deserve it.

But not anymore.

I closed my eyes, and for the first time in three years, I felt free.

Back in New York, Vincenzo spent the entire night at the hospital. Seraphina cried and clung to him, saying she was scared she would lose the baby.

The doctor told her she was fine, just a little shaken up, but she insisted on staying overnight.

Vincenzo turned his phone off silent, not wanting to be bothered.

The next morning, Seraphina was finally asleep. Vincenzo pulled out his phone and texted me.

“I know you’re throwing a fit. I’ll come for you when Seraphina’s settled. Don’t do anything stupid. Wait for me.”

The message failed to send.

Not delivered.

Vincenzo frowned. He called my number.

“The number you have reached is no longer in service.”

His heart skipped a beat.

He called Antonio.

“Where is Elena?” he demanded.

“Miss Luccarelli finished her work yesterday and left,” Antonio said, his voice polite but distant. “She said she was going back to Sicily. I don’t know anything else.”