“Layla.” Rico finished washing up, turning to me with a reminder. “You’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry.”

I snapped out of my scroll and bolted out of bed. I had a 9 a.m. appointment at the Seaside Estate to shoot with Vincenzo Valentino.

I was obsessively punctual. Never late, except once.

There’d been a huge transit strike in Queens. I was just about to jump out and run the rest of the way when I glanced up and saw Rico’s private helicopter flying overhead.

I was wondering where he was going when my cabbie let out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned. My wife’s a flight attendant, said there’s a real big shot on her Vienna flight today. Bet that’s him.”

Funny thing was, Seraphina was in Vienna at the time.

That’s when it hit me that I could ask him for a ride.

“Rico, I’m cutting it close. Are you busy today?”

“Got a family meeting this afternoon,” he’d said, not looking up from his laptop. “I’ll have the chopper come get you.”

I paused. “Okay. Thanks.”

Saying “thanks” was this stupid, constant thing in our marriage.

We were the perfect picture of mutual respect. Or total strangers.

Thanks to the chopper, I made it right on time.

Vincenzo Valentino, Rico’s grandfather, the former Don of the family, was sitting in the estate’s outdoor shooting range, grinning when he saw me.

We’d met at a shooting club in Brooklyn. The old man was stubborn as hell, and with his reputation, no one dared so much as breathe wrong around him. Back then, I was just doing my part-time job at the club. The other staff, knowing I was an orphan with no family, no connections, always stuck me with serving him.

Somehow, over time, we’d become friends.

I had no clue he was the top Don of New York’s underworld.

Until the day Rico showed up with an army of bodyguards to take Vincenzo here. That was the first time I’d ever seen him. I was hooked the second I laid eyes on him.

“Layla,” the old man waved a hand in front of my face. “You sick? You’re a million miles away.”

I glanced down at the gun in my hand, and realized I’d jammed the magazine into the wrong weapon.

He saw right through me, a knowing grin on his face. “So. My grandson Rico. He’s easy on the eyes, huh?”

I shook my head, trying to snap out of the stupid thoughts swirling in my head.

“You’re a good kid, Layla. Folks like us? We never know if death or tomorrow’s coming first.If he would like to settle down with a steady, good girl like you for a quiet life. That’s no bad thing.”

Rico was handsome, powerful, still carried that untamed wildness that made every girl’s heart race.

And he was a hopeless romantic. Seraphina had loved daisies, so he’d filled the entire estate with them, picked one for her every single morning. It was just my luck that I loved daisies too.

That’s when I finally understood why I’d been acting so off since the night Rossi was back.

I was scared. Scared that once they rekindled what they had, I’d be forced back to the same loneliness I’d felt in the orphanage.

Instead of sitting around waiting for the other shoe to drop, I’d make the first move.

After I left the estate, I didn’t go home. I went straight to a quiet, low-key law firm.

“I want a divorce. The agreement needs to be ironclad. Name your price.”

Once I had the divorce papers in hand, I planned to head straight to Valentino family headquarters. I’d come up with some excuse to get Rico to sign it without him reading it first.

That way, I’d be the bigger person, and save him all the messy, unnecessary drama.

The whole drive over, I ran through a million different scenarios in my head. Would he notice what it was? Would he fly off the handle if he did?

But the second I stepped into the ground-floor lobby, armed bodyguards stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

“Sorry, ma’am. No entry.”

For three years, Rico had never once publicly acknowledged who I was to him. I wasn’t about to announce it now, either. I just pulled out my phone and called him.

The line rang once before I heard his ringtone echoing from the elevators. Rico was walking out, leading a group of his men.

He glanced at his screen, his brow furrowing slightly, like he was debating whether to answer. I hung up on instinct.

He didn’t seem to think much of it, just kept talking to the men behind him.

It wasn’t until he walked right past me that I saw who he’d been shielding with his body.

Seraphina Rossi.

Years had passed, but she was still just as ethereal, just as breathtaking.

She walked shoulder to shoulder with Rico, her voice bright with delight. “Ri, you still have the same ringtone after all these years? It’s still my favorite instrumental piece.”

Rico had been a rebellious, loud-mouthed kid who only listened to rap. But Seraphina had only loved soft instrumentals.

So he’d changed his entire music taste for her. That’s what love does, I guess. Even all these years later, he still held onto it.

The two of them stepped into the VIP elevator.

The bodyguard cleared his throat, speaking to me again.

“Ma’am, if you’re here on business, you’ll need to provide ID.”

I forced a smile. “Sorry, I took a wrong turn.”

I walked out of the building, my bones aching with exhaustion. All I wanted was to go home and sleep.

When I was arriving home, a friend forwarded me a post from a private underworld group chat.

“Holy fucking shit! Guess who I just spotted at that rooftop restaurant in Manhattan? Rico and Seraphina!”

“No way! Are they still there? I’m heading over right now!”

Seraphina had also posted a picture on her Instagram.

I noticed a man’s forearm holding a glass of water.

His face wasn’t in the frame, but I’d know those strong, defined forearms anywhere. And that million-dollar Patek Philippe on his wrist.

It was Rico. No question.

The caption read: “Savoring each meal together, sharing love and laughter.”

I zoomed in on the photo. Then zoomed in again. Rico had beautiful hands.

I’d stared at them a hundred times, when he pushed his glasses up his nose, flipped through case files, signed his name on contracts.

So it didn’t take me long to notice. The wedding band on his ring finger was gone.

Rico came home early that night.

Instead of coming to the bedroom, he stepped out onto the terrace and lit a cigar. He’d never smoked inside the house after we got married.

Seeing Seraphina again had clearly knocked him off his axis.

I clutched the divorce papers in my bag so tight my fingertips went white. I finally steeled myself, walked out onto the terrace, and handed them to him.

He raised an eyebrow at the document in his hand. “What’s this?”

I tried to make my voice steady, “It’s the...”

I didn’t finish my words, he returned the document to me.

“Forget it. Just sign it yourself. You’ve handled my paperwork before, you forge my signature better than I do. Just get it done. I’m beat today.”

He probably didn’t even care enough to look at what the papers were. Didn’t want to.

That night, as we lay in the dark, he suddenly spoke up. “Why’d you call me earlier today?”

I had no choice but to lie. “Butt dial. Accidental.”

He kept talking, his voice low in the dark. “Yeah. You went to see a lawyer today, didn’t you? For that document. Then you showed up at headquarters. You looking for my signature?”

My heart dropped into my stomach, racing so hard I thought it’d burst out of my chest. My hands shook so bad I could barely control them.

But Rico didn’t seem to pick up on how freaked out I was. He just kept going. “I didn’t have anyone dig into what the agreement was. I trust your call. You’ve handled my shit well enough in the past. Just… family business doesn’t leave the family. From now on, I’ll tell the guards to let you into headquarters whenever you want. Just shoot me a text before you come.”

I forced myself to calm down, and replied. “I understand.”

That night, I dreamed he kissed me, softer and more tender than he’d ever been in real life.

He never showed any real emotion with me. Always cold. Always distant.

And because I’d seen how he loved someone else, I knew for a fact he didn’t love me.

The only person in this whole family who ever listened to me was Vincenzo.

Early the next morning, I sat on a bench outside the shooting range, numb and empty.

Vincenzo saw me there that early, and knew something was eating at me. He walked over slow and sat down next to me.

He saw the mess in my eyes, but didn’t ask what was wrong. He just started talking.

“I’ve been fighting my way through rival crews since I was a kid. And I learned one thing along the way: sometimes, ignorance is bliss. You think there’s no secrets in family? No betrayal?”

“You gotta know when to look the other way, and when to open your eyes and see what’s right in front of you.”

“Right now, you’re stuck between the two. I won’t push you. You’ll figure it out on your own. When you do, go home.”

With that, Vincenzo turned and went back inside.

Yeah. If I just kept my eyes closed, ignored what was right in front of me with Rico and Seraphina, all this hurt would go away, right?

But I knew the truth now. Facing it head-on was better than lying to myself.

I packed my bags that morning and booked a one-way flight out of the country.

Rico glanced at the half-empty closet that night, his voice sharp with a rare note of curiosity. “Where’d all your clothes go?”

I lied, told him I had too many, donated the rest to the orphanage I grew up in. The truth was, I didn’t want to be scrambling at the last minute when I left.

That night, Rico locked himself in his study until dawn.

I stood outside the door, and heard him on the phone, his voice soft in a way it never was with me.

“Seraph, I can wrap things up here whenever. It’s been too long…”

I didn’t stay to hear the rest. I walked back to the bedroom, my face blank, my heart already gone.

He was more eager to end this than I was. He was just waiting for Seraphina to say the word. The second they got back together, he’d hand me the divorce papers, and “handle” me quietly and cleanly.

I’d been an idiot. I’d cared about this unspoken marriage more than he ever had.

The next morning, I dragged my suitcase out the door and headed straight for JFK.

He’d never asked where I was going before. I’d always just sent him a quick text to let him know.