The next afternoon, Luca found Maya's apartment.

He stood outside with a white paper bag from an old pastry shop, a black Bentley idling behind him. It was the same car that had once left me waiting alone on my birthday because Clara needed a ride.

Maya crossed her arms in the doorway. "She doesn't want to see you."

Luca looked past her at me. "Anna, give me two minutes."

"Two minutes?" Maya laughed. "That's what you said before you shoved Clara into her engagement gown."

"Maya, this is between me and Anna."

"Then stop saying her name like you still own it."

I touched Maya's arm. "Let him in."

Luca stepped inside and set the paper bag on the coffee table. "Pistachio cream rolls. You used to love them."

He sat across from me, controlled and patient, ready to manage the problem. "What do you want me to do?"

"I already told you. Break up."

"And I told you not to make a permanent decision because of one bad night." His voice stayed even. "Anna, leaving the ring on that table put me in a difficult position."

I looked at him. "You were in a difficult position?"

"That's not what I meant. I mean we can't keep fighting about Clara. She's my childhood friend. That's all."

"That's all?" The words almost made me laugh. "Last year on my birthday, I booked La Vittoria two months ahead. Clara called about a broken heater, and you left me waiting until the restaurant closed."

"It was snowing, and she lives in a rough neighborhood."

"You bought me earrings afterward."

"Exactly."

"You bought Clara the same pair."

He hesitated. "She was having a rough week."

"She's always having a rough week." My voice stayed low. "Her pipes burst, she's a mess. Her application fails, she's a mess. Someone looks at her wrong, she's a mess. As long as Clara cries, you can miss my birthday, our anniversary, my dress fitting, and my engagement party."

The apartment went quiet.

I kept going. "Last month, you reassigned my driver to her because she shouldn't come home from a bar alone. That night, someone followed me for three blocks after work."

Luca's face changed. "You didn't tell me."

"I called. You didn't answer. And the lace shawl my grandmother sent from Sicily? You lent it to Clara for her scholarship dinner because she 'couldn't look cheap.' When wine ruined it, you said it was old and you could buy another."

His throat moved. "I didn't know it meant that much."

"Did you not know, or did you not care?"

At that, he finally stopped defending himself. Then the familiar disappointment returned. "I always thought you were different from other girls."

I smiled faintly. "Different how?"

"You've known hard days, so I thought you'd understand Clara. She has nothing. You have me, the Moretti name, and the place of future Donna. Why cling to these little things?"

"Because I was inside those little things. I'm not counting dresses, drivers, or shawls. I'm counting every time you chose her, then demanded I be gracious about it."

"I never didn't choose you."

"You just never chose me first."

His expression darkened. "Clara has no one else."

"And me?"

"You have me."

I stared at him, suddenly exhausted. He would never understand. I had swallowed so much because I thought I had him, while he kept handing pieces of himself to Clara and telling me I had enough.

"You're right," I said. "I have everything."

His expression eased.

"So I can live without you too."

He froze. "Anna."

"Go."

At the door, his voice dropped. "You didn't use to be like this."

After he left, Maya threw the pastry bag in the trash. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," I said. "But it won't get worse."

That night, Matteo's car stopped downstairs.

I left with one suitcase. I didn't take Luca's gifts. They belonged to Anna Vale, the girl who thought patience could be traded for love, not Anna Valenti, who was finally going home.

Before I left, I placed the wedding binder on Maya's coffee table. On the cover was St. Rosalia Chapel, where I had once believed I would marry Luca.

Now it was only paper.

On the third morning, Luca texted me.

[Clara's safe house has a problem. Her cousin owes money to the Russians. I need to handle it first. Push the wedding planning meeting back a few days.]

Half a minute later, another message arrived.

[Explain it to the planner. You're going to be Donna. This is your responsibility too.]

I sat in the private terminal and read both messages without feeling anything.

Matteo sat across from me, his black coat draped over the chair. He didn't look at my phone, but he knew. "Reply?"

"No." I turned off the phone, removed the SIM card, snapped it in half, and dropped it into the trash.

Beyond the glass, an unmarked private jet waited. The Valenti family preferred quiet power.

I had left home under a false name to prove I could choose something pure. In the end, the only pure thing had been my stupidity.

With the new phone Matteo gave me, I called the planner. "Cancel St. Rosalia Chapel."

The woman on the other end froze. "Miss Vale, the wedding is less than two weeks away. That venue has a one-year waitlist, and the deposit is nonrefundable. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Does Mr. Moretti know?"

I looked through the window. "He doesn't need to."

After I hung up, I handed Matteo the old phone and the wedding binder. "Get rid of these for me."

Matteo took them, his face cold. "You really don't want father to step in?"

"No."

"Luca Moretti humiliated the Chairman's daughter at an engagement party. If word gets out, half of Chicago will expect him to kneel."

I shook my head. "I'm not leaving him because I want to watch him kneel."

Matteo studied me, then nodded. "Then we go home."

At the same time, Luca sat in Clara's safe house. Clara wrapped both hands around a mug, eyes red. "Luca, I'm sorry. I keep making trouble for you. Anna must be furious."

Luca glanced at his phone. I still hadn't replied. He frowned, but he wasn't worried. "She'll come around."

"But the wedding meeting was important."

"She's my fiancee. These are the things she needs to learn." He pulled on his coat, certain as ever. "She'll be mad for a few days, then she'll come home."

By the time he returned to the penthouse we had shared for three years, it was late. The living room was dark. At first, he thought I was asleep and even took off his shoes quietly. Then he opened the closet and saw my side half empty.

My coats, passport, bags, and files were gone. On the vanity, the Moretti emerald ring sat on the wedding binder.

[The wedding is canceled.]

Luca's face changed.