He must have heard the words "wedding ring," because for the first time in a long while, that calm, untouchable expression on his face cracked.

A trace of panic flashed through his eyes.

"Wedding ring?" he asked, staring at me sharply. "What wedding ring?"

His gaze was so intense that it almost felt like interrogation. Somewhere deeper in the house, I heard footsteps pause on the marble, as if even the soldiers could feel the temperature change.

Once, if he had looked at me like this, my heart would have raced. I would have panicked, explained, tried to prove my innocence before he even asked.

But now, I only looked back at him with quiet indifference.

I was just about to make up an excuse when my phone suddenly rang.

The name on the screen was Viviana Caruso.

I answered.

Her weak, tearful voice came through immediately.

"Bianca… is Adrian with you? I just had another nosebleed. I'm so scared…"

Before I could say anything, Adrian snatched the phone from my hand.

"Viviana, don't be afraid. I'll come over right now."

His voice was urgent, gentle, and full of concern.

Then he turned and left.

No explanation.

No hesitation.

Not even a glance back at me.

I stood there alone, watching his figure disappear through the doorway.

Only then did I remember that tonight, he had promised to take me on a night cruise along the harbor.

He said it was to make up for missing our tenth anniversary.

I had once waited for that promise.

Now, I only found it ridiculous.

So this was what it felt like to truly let go.

Watching him run toward another woman, I felt no pain, no anger, no jealousy.

My heart was calm.

So calm it felt almost numb.

As if even the deepest wound had finally stopped bleeding.

My phone rang again.

This time, it was Dominic.

"Bianca," he asked gently, "are you ready? I'll send someone for you in Boston tomorrow."

My thumb pressed against the inside of my sleeve hem, running along the stitching. Then I let go.

I looked out into the distance. The night outside the window was vast and silent. Somewhere below, a black sedan idled at the curb. One of Adrian's soldiers, always watching the perimeter. Even the DeLuca security didn't know what was coming.

After a while, I said, "Give me one week. I need to settle everything here first. After that, I'll come to Seattle, and we'll get married."

Dominic's voice softened.

"Alright. I'll wait for you. If anything happens that you can't handle, remember, I'm here."

After hanging up, I called Enzo DeLuca to say goodbye.

Enzo DeLuca and my grandfather had once been bound by the kind of loyalty only forged through blood and survival. They had fought on the same side, covered each other's debts, and sworn oaths that outlived them both. Because of that bond, the DeLuca family had taken me in when I was eight.

Back then, doctors had diagnosed me with a severe heart condition. My grandfather had searched everywhere for treatment, and the DeLuca family's private clinic in Boston was one of the most renowned on the East Coast, especially famous for cardiology. Old connections, old favors. My grandfather called in the last one he had.

So I was sent to the DeLuca household.

From that day on, Adrian's parents treated me like their own daughter.

Enzo cared for me even more deeply, always worrying about whether I had eaten, whether I had taken my medicine, whether I was tired.

Now that I was leaving Boston and crossing into Moretti territory in Seattle, it was only right that I say goodbye.

That night, Adrian did not come home.

Near midnight, Viviana sent me a message.

"Look at you with cake all over your face. So cute."

Attached to the message was a photo.

In the picture, Adrian was leaning down to take a bite of cake, while Viviana smiled sweetly beside him, smearing cream onto his cheek with her finger.

The two of them looked intimate, natural, and happy.

A few seconds later, the message was deleted.

Then Viviana sent another one.

"I'm sorry, Bianca. I sent that to the wrong person. Adrian thought it was cute and asked me to send it to him. You're not upset, are you?"

I stared at the screen for a moment.

Then I turned it off.

I did not reply.

Instead, I returned to my room, opened my suitcase, and quietly began packing my things.

The next day at noon, Adrian finally came home.

He was carrying a gift box in his hand, clearly something he had prepared as an apology.

"Bianca," he said, watching my expression carefully, "Viviana's condition became serious last night. I took her to the clinic."

I said nothing.

He handed me the box.

I opened it.

Inside was an elegant Van Cleef & Arpels watch. The strap was circled with diamonds, exquisite and expensive, glittering under the light.

It was beautiful.

It was also painfully familiar.

Because I remembered that not long ago, he had given Viviana a similar watch.

Mine was merely the more expensive version.

That was all.

Noticing that I did not react, Adrian's brows furrowed slightly.

"Bianca," he asked, his voice carrying a trace of unease, "are you angry?"

I closed the box and answered calmly, "No."

He seemed startled by how flat my voice was.

I continued, "Viviana is sick. You should stay with her."

Adrian looked at me for a long moment.

Perhaps he finally sensed that something was wrong.

In the past, whenever Viviana was involved, I would argue with him, cry, question him, ask why he always chose her.

But this time, I did none of that.

No accusations.

No tears.

No trembling voice.

Only peace.

After a while, he sighed in relief, as if convincing himself that everything was fine.

"I'm glad you're not angry," he said. "After all, we still have a long future ahead of us. But Viviana…"

His eyes reddened slightly.

That familiar look appeared again.

Guilt.

Pity.

Tenderness.

All for another woman.

I no longer had the patience to listen.

"Then spend more time with her," I said.

With that, I turned to leave.

But Adrian suddenly reached out and grabbed my wrist.

His grip was firm, almost desperate.

"Bianca," he said again, his voice heavier this time. "Why do I feel like you don't care anymore?"

When I lifted my eyes, my face was calm, almost empty of emotion.

"What is it?" I asked.

Adrian stared at me, a faint trace of irritation crossing his face. It was as if my indifference had offended him, though even he could not explain why.

Before he could speak, his phone rang again.

He glanced at the screen, then looked back at me. "Bianca, I have to handle some business out of town for a few days. I won't be around."

"You take care," I replied lightly.

His absence was convenient. It would give me time to visit the DeLuca estate and say my goodbyes without having to deal with him.

The next morning, I gathered the gifts I had prepared and drove to the DeLuca family residence. The iron gates opened slowly, as they always had for me, the guard nodding once before waving my car through. Ten years of coming here, and the gravel drive still smelled like boxwood and old stone.

When Sofia DeLuca heard that I was returning to Seattle, worry immediately filled her eyes.

"Bianca, what happened? Haven't you been doing well here in Boston? Why are you leaving so suddenly?"

Vincent DeLuca's reaction was far more direct. He removed his glasses and folded them with exact care, then set them on the table beside his coffee. His expression was dark with anger.

"And where is Adrian? Why didn't he come with you? Did that boy mistreat you?"

My throat tightened.

For a moment, I almost wanted to tell them everything.

I wanted to tell them that Adrian had married Viviana behind my back, in a church ceremony I was never meant to know about until it was too late.

I wanted to tell them that he had abandoned me when my heart condition flared up.

I wanted to tell them that the boy who once promised to protect me had become the person who hurt me the most.

But in the end, I swallowed it all down.

"No," I said quietly. "Nothing like that. I've just been away from home for too long. I want to go back and reconnect with my family."

Sofia still looked unconvinced. "Does Adrian know you're planning to return?"

To avoid further questions, I nodded. "Yes, he knows."

After that, they seemed to understand that I had already made up my mind. They tried to persuade me a little longer, but when they saw that I would not change my decision, they could only sigh and let it go.

After exchanging a few more words, I stood to leave.

But just as I reached the door, it suddenly opened from the outside.

Adrian stood there.

And beside him was Viviana.

Her expression was calm and composed, as if entering the DeLuca family home was the most natural thing in the world. Her fingers drifted to the base of her throat, a small, practiced gesture, before she spoke.

"Bianca," Viviana said with a smile. "What a coincidence. I didn't expect to see you here."

The way she spoke made it sound as if she were already part of the DeLuca household, while I was the outsider who had appeared uninvited.

I looked at her steadily, my voice cold and even.

"I don't need to explain to you why I'm here."

After saying that, I brushed past Adrian and headed toward the door.

The moment Adrian realized I was leaving, he quickly followed me.

"Bianca," he said urgently, "you've misunderstood. I only brought Viviana here because I wanted my parents to help her find a better doctor. Someone with the right connections."

He paused, then added in a tone that sounded almost reasonable, "Besides, she's your best friend too. You're not upset, are you?"

I stopped for a brief moment.

His words drifted past my ears, but what rose in my mind was another scene entirely.

Years ago, when Adrian was eighteen, he had stood beneath the cherry tree in the DeLuca estate garden and told me that marrying me was his lifelong dream.

He had said he would bring me home one day and introduce me to his parents as his future wife. That the families would bless it. That it was always meant to be us.

Back then, I had believed him so completely.

But now, he had brought another woman to meet the DeLuca family while lying to me that he was away on business.

How ridiculous.

How painfully ridiculous.

Adrian looked at me, waiting for my answer.

I met his gaze and said calmly, "Why would I care? I've never been the type to hold grudges."

People who no longer mattered were not worth my anger.

Adrian froze for a second.

"Bianca," he asked slowly, "do you really not care at all?"

I almost laughed.

He truly was impossible to satisfy.

When he and Viviana acted intimate in front of me, he accused me of being petty and narrow-minded.

Now that I no longer cared, he still seemed displeased.

I had no desire to explain myself.

Without warning, Adrian leaned down and kissed my forehead lightly.

"Be good," he said softly. "Wait for me at home."

The elevator doors closed between us.

The moment he disappeared from sight, I raised my hand and wiped my forehead hard.

That gentle gesture, which once might have made my heart flutter, now only made me feel sick.

On our tenth anniversary, Adrian had also used a so-called business trip as an excuse to avoid me.

That night, Viviana sent me a video call request.

When I answered, the first thing I heard was music, laughter, and the lively noise of a wedding celebration.

At first, I did not understand.

Then the camera shifted.

I saw the flowers. The guests. The altar with its crucifix and white candles.

And finally, I saw Adrian standing beside Viviana.

Only then did the truth crash down on me.

It was their wedding. A church-sanctioned union, with Family witnesses, with vows spoken before God and the old men of the neighborhood. Not a civil formality. A real marriage.

Three months earlier, Viviana had posted about her terminal diagnosis on social media. Her caption had read, "Before I die, I want a wedding with the person I love most."

At the time, I had not noticed anything strange between her and Adrian. I had even left a comment asking who that person was.

She had replied, "You'll know when the time comes."

So that was what she meant.

The realization was like a blade twisting deep into my chest. The pain was so sharp that I could barely breathe.

I called Adrian again and again, desperate to ask him why.

Why did he agree?

Why did he hide it from me?

Why did he let me watch the man I loved marry my best friend through a screen?

But that night, he did not answer a single call.

Not one.

I cried until my vision blurred, until my chest ached, until my body finally gave out and I fainted.

And while I lay unconscious, Adrian was spending his wedding night with Viviana.

Thankfully, it would all be over soon.

After I returned home, Viviana called me again.

"Bianca," she said softly, "I'm really sorry. I honestly didn't expect to run into you today."

I let out a cold, bitter laugh.

I said nothing.

Viviana took a slow breath. When she spoke again, her voice was filled with envy, but also with a faint, unmistakable provocation.

"Sofia is such a wonderful person. She was so gentle and caring toward me," she said. "They even promised they would do everything they could to find the best doctor for me. Vincent said he'd make some calls personally."

She paused, then lowered her voice.