I swallowed the words on the tip of my tongue, hung up, and told the doctor to begin.

"Are you sure, miss?" the doctor asked softly. "The baby is very healthy. Perhaps you should talk to the father first?"

"There's no need. He doesn't care about this child."

...

After leaving the clinic, I returned to our penthouse apartment to pack my things. The space was cluttered with wedding gifts from various families, stark reminders of the ceremony that never was.

Clearly, Lorenzo hadn't been home. He wouldn't have let these monuments to our failed union sit here, mocking me.

Halfway through packing, my mother called. "Juliana, have you appeased Lorenzo? Has he forgiven you?"

Her voice was filled with anxiety and hope, but not a trace of concern for me.

I told her I was calling off the engagement.

After a brief silence, a tearful tirade came pouring through the phone. My mother told me not to be so willful—that to become Lorenzo's wife, I had to endure any humiliation, that it was my duty as a Rossi.

I swiped my thumb across the tear-streaked screen and ended the call.

After composing myself, I went to the De Luca family's art appraisal firm and submitted my resignation.

As I was leaving work, Lorenzo appeared. In the ten years we had been together, this was the first time he had ever waited for me.

I tried to stride past him, but he caught my arm and shoved me into his armored car.

"It was just a ceremony, Juliana. Was it really necessary to make such a scene? You're not a naive girl anymore. Why are you still threatening to call it off just to get my attention?"

Lorenzo took a lacquer box from the glove compartment and tossed it into my lap. I opened it to find an exquisite antique dagger, a traditional engagement gift.

"What's this?"

Lorenzo, who had already started driving, replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "Scarlett thought the other one lacked taste. She got rid of it for you and picked this one out herself."