I stood frozen at the window, watching the Rolls disappear around the corner.

Night fell. The streetlights came on one by one.

Round, like the burn scars on my arm. The ones Vivian had given me with her cigarette.

She was cruel. Truly cruel.

One night she'd made me take swimsuit photos of her, didn't like the results, and shoved my head underwater in the pool.

"Isa, are you blind? Do you have any taste? Do I really look this fat in your shots? Maybe a swim'll clean out your eyes."

I walked home that night in soaking clothes, in the dead cold of the early morning.

The second Angelo saw me, he pulled me into his arms. "Just quit. I'll cover us, okay?"

I'd shaken my head. "The agency pays me three times what other assistants make. I can take it."

When I'd signed with the agency, they'd wanted to make me an actress.

But they kept pushing me toward dirty side jobs. I refused. Assistant work was all they'd let me do.

The pay was good. Much better than the others.

Getting bullied by Vivian beat the alternative.

For my mother. For me and Angelo's future. I'd put up with it.

Angelo had opened his mouth that night, but said nothing. Just held me tighter.

He'd pressed his face into my back and whispered, over and over: "I'm sorry, Isabella. I'm sorry."

After that, Vivian eased up on the physical stuff.

But her tongue got meaner.

Now I understood. Angelo must've said something to her.

Out of guilt? Or was it a new round of the game?

I wanted out.

I started packing. There wasn't much of me in this apartment.

The thrift-store bookshelf was lined with his books, sorted by spine color.

We'd painted the walls together, in the color he'd picked.

We'd both ended up with white paint on our faces, laughing till our stomachs hurt.

The tomato plants he'd put on the balcony were yellowing.

The home we'd built piece by piece.

It was just a stage. For his performance.

I dropped onto the bed, wrung out.

With the first light of morning came the click of a key in the lock.

Angelo walked in.

He'd changed.

Armani suit, silver cufflinks catching the light.

The luxury that had always been on the other side of glass was suddenly standing in my doorway.

He took in my dead-eyed stare and reached over to stroke my hair.

"Isabella, don't be angry. I'm going to explain everything."

"Three years ago, I went after Vivian. She turned me down."

"For her image, she demanded I give up being the Don. I couldn't do that."

"She got vicious. Said if I weren't a Don, no woman would ever love me."

"I wanted to prove her wrong. To get back at her. So I..."

He trailed off, like the rest hurt to say.

I clenched my teeth. My voice came out poisonous. "So the noble Don Angelo decided to throw his love at some peasant girl, Isabella."

He folded his hands under his chin and looked straight at me. "Not charity. You conquered me."

"In front of you," he gave a small smile, "I was still that broke kid. Crazy about you."

That earnest face almost made me laugh. Play a role long enough and you really do forget who you are.

His phone screen lit up on the couch.

A message from Vivian.

Vivian: [Angelo, stop sulking. Fine, this time I'll be your girlfriend. No conditions.]

He cleared his throat, embarrassed, and typed back: [You think I'd believe anything you say?]

I grabbed the phone. I wanted them to stop playing this game in front of me.

What I saw was a group chat. Vivian was the admin.

I tapped in. The group had been created three years ago.

Angelo tried to stop me. I lifted my eyes and stared him down. His hand froze.

"Look. Look, and you'll know. I really do love you."

My hands trembled as I scrolled to the top.

The first message. Vivian:

Vivian: [Angelo, if you want to spite me, can you at least pick a better girl?]

Vivian: [Isabella? Really? You that desperate?]

Angelo: [I'm going for the one closest to you. So you have to watch.]

The others piled on: [Damn, this is better than Vivian's new movie.]

Vivian: [Don't think I'm jealous. Isabella's a lapdog. Not worth my time.]

Angelo: [We'll see.]

Every time he and I got closer, the chat exploded:

Someone: [Vivian, don't underestimate Angelo's game. I bet she's in his bed within a month.]

Someone else: [Classic Don move. The assistant's even putting her own money toward his debt.]

Every line burned like acid.

I looked up at Angelo, eyes wet, trembling, no words coming out.

He sighed and looked away. "They're guys who live with guns. They talk like animals."

I wiped my eyes hard and kept reading.

Further down, Angelo's messages got fewer.

When the mockery got bad, he'd type: [Shut up.]

Or: [She's not your business.]

When someone joked the Don had actually fallen for her, he just went silent.

He let them mock me. For three years.

Was that what he called love? Not insulting me himself?

I was a prop. A trophy for his ego.

My stomach turned. My hand shook against the edge of the phone.

Angelo grabbed it and held my hand tight. "You know how I feel. That's enough."

He pulled me into his chest, his breath hot against my ear.

"It started as spite. But I meant it after. I love you, Isabella."

I shoved him off and stood up.

Every word out of my mouth felt like glass. "Angelo, my life isn't your toy."

"I don't love you anymore. Congrats. You finally got Vivian."

I walked straight out the door.

Two men in black suits blocked the hallway.

"Move."

A second later, Angelo's voice behind me.

"Isa. Calm down. Please."

I spun around. His eyes were full of something that looked like love.

"I told you. I stopped caring about Vivian a long time ago. I only care about you."

My phone chimed.

A video from Vivian.

I tapped it.

She and Angelo were lying on a bed. She was curled into his chest, white gauze around her wrist, blood seeping through.

He was holding her tight, stroking her back, slow.

"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Don't do anything stupid."

Ten seconds.

When it ended, my eyes felt scraped dry.

Angelo's voice: "Isa, let me explain —"

"Don't bother." I waved the phone at him. "I saw enough. You don't owe me an explanation."

His face changed. He grabbed my wrist.

"She was threatening to slit her wrists last night. What was I supposed to do? Let her die?"

His jaw tightened. "Can you calm down? Can you be a goddamn adult about this?"

I met his eyes and pried at his fingers.

"Let go. I'm quitting. Right now."

"And both of you. Stay the hell out of my life."

He didn't let go. The grip on my wrist ached.

"Isa... I need you. You can't leave."

"Sure, Vivian was hard on you. But she tipped you well, didn't she? And she stopped going after you eventually."

"For three years, I gave you everything. Without me, you can't make it out there."

I almost laughed.

So everything I'd put up with had a price tag.

Those tips. Those hush-money tips. Was that Vivian buying off her own guilt?

The two of them already had everything. And they chose to sit at the top of the hill and watch me crawl up.

My chest hurt again. Sharp.

This time for me.

I didn't want to argue anymore. Couldn't.

I looked him in the eye. Quiet. "Let go. Or I'm calling the cops."

He looked down at me. "What about your mother? You leaving her too?"

I went still. After a moment: "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like."

His voice went cold. "Your mother's a lot worse than you know. Your paycheck doesn't cover her meds anymore."

"For the past three years, I've covered the difference. Clear enough now?"

I couldn't move.

He reached up, tucked a stray hair behind my ear, and snapped the fingers of his other hand.

The black Rolls-Royce slid up without a sound.

He got in and patted the seat beside him. "Don't be silly, baby. Time I showed you your real home."

My mother's medical bills.

I swallowed every shred of pride and got in the car.

The car turned into a private estate.

Angelo led me to a bedroom door.

He opened it, smiling. "After the wedding, this is where you'll live with me. You like the way it's done?"

A voice cut in, sharp.

"You? Living here? Don't make me laugh."

I turned. Vivian was standing behind me.

Red silk slip, the kind that left half her chest bare.

Angelo's brow knitted. He stepped forward. "How'd you get in?"

She dangled a key. "You gave me the code. Forgotten already?"

He didn't answer.

She looked me up and down and laughed. "Look at yourself. You're a walking cartoon."

"Hope the reporters don't write that you couldn't even compete with a cartoon," I said.

"You bitch."

She swung at my face.

I flinched.

The slap never landed.

Angelo caught her wrist.

He dragged her out of the room. Their voices leaked back through the wall.

"Angelo, wake up. You think she doesn't know who you are?"

"You only went for her to piss me off. You're really gonna take this all the way and marry her? It's me you love."

"Enough. It's Isa I love."

"Are you stupid? She's a gold-digging slut."

I listened. Felt myself falling, with nothing under my feet.

Then a gunshot.

From the hallway. One round.

Smoke and gunpowder drifted through the hallway.

Angelo was holding a black Browning, the barrel aimed at Vivian.

"I said shut up." His voice was flat. "Don't test me. Next time I won't miss on purpose."

Vivian bit her lip, scrambled to her feet, and stumbled down the stairs.

"Sorry. Did that scare you?"

Angelo pulled me into his arms and stroked my back.

"It's handled, Isa. Done."

He whispered against my ear. "You stay here, where it's safe. Your mother will be in the best private hospital. For as long as she needs."

The wave of helplessness drowned me.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood. The word came out anyway. "Thank you."

"Sweetheart, don't thank me."

He tapped my nose and pulled out his phone.

"Sonny's got the planners lined up. Here's the concept they sent over, take a look."

"You should eat light for a few days. You want to fit in the dress."

"And the honeymoon, Europe or Asia? Whatever you want..."

Angelo wouldn't shut up. Planning, planning, planning.

The sound of his voice turned into static.

There was no way Vivian would let it go.

That night, she held a press conference. Front-page headlines by morning.

Eyes red, voice trembling, she laid into me.

"I always treated her like a sister. I never imagined she'd bite the hand that fed her."

"On set, she was using my name to line her own pockets."

"Now my fiancé is pulling his investment from my movie. Who knows when it'll come out."

Her fans were furious. Within thirty minutes of the press conference, my socials were dug up, drowning in hate mail.

I looked at Angelo, cold.

He looked annoyed. But when he looked at Vivian, there was no real anger.

"She's just fighting for me."

"Don't worry. I'll talk to her."

He went downstairs, was on the phone with her for over ten minutes, came back and looked at me. "Vivian says if you apologize publicly, she'll back off. Leave us alone."

"Isa, this is a clean way out. Solves both of your problems."

"For my sake. Apologize. Okay?"

I turned my phone off.

Looked at him, cold.

The only "problem between us" was that she wanted to grind me into the floor.

And I was supposed to apologize.

Right. I'd made him fall in love with me. I'd ruined what they had.

What a joke.

"Angelo. Do you actually love me?"

He looked at me, eyes more serious than I'd ever seen them. "Of course. I love you, Isabella."

"Then I've got a better idea than an apology."