Seven years into our relationship, Lucian always told me he was working so hard for our future—that was why he was constantly busy expanding the family’s reach. He was so busy he forgot my birthday. Forgot the trip we’d planned. Forgot to bring me medicine when I was burning with a hundred-and-four fever. But the moment his adopted sister, Nora, showed up, suddenly he wasn’t busy anymore. He always managed to carve out time to take her to the movies, shopping, on trips. And today, when my grandmother wanted to see him one last time before she died, Lucian turned me down, citing “urgent family business.” Then I saw the latest post on Nora’s Instagram. Successfully dragged Don Moretti to the movies today! That was when it finally dawned on me. It wasn’t that Lucian was busy. It was that his time was never set aside for me. … The heart monitor stretched into one long, unbroken tone. I drew in a slow breath and gently closed my grandmother’s eyes—the eyes she couldn’t bear to close even in death. When I went to sign the death certificate, my hand shook so badly I couldn’t hold the pen steady. The nurse, her face full of concern, asked if she should call another family member to help. I forced a small smile and shook my head. My parents had died in a car crash years ago. My grandmother had raised me on her own. The villagers had all called me a burden, a little runt, good for nothing, and pushed her to marry me off as soon as she could. But she leaned on her cane and chased every one of them away, stubbornly scraping together every penny to put me through school. Even at the very end, the only thing on her mind was me—she just wanted to see whether my boyfriend would take care of me the way she had. Lucian never gave her that chance. In the end, I took three days off work and had my grandmother cremated. The moment I held that small urn in my hands, the loss finally became real, and I broke down sobbing. That was when Lucian’s call came through. “Why did you request leave? What’s the reason?” His tone was hard. I choked the tears back, but my voice still came out hoarse. “I’m just tired. I wanted to rest for a couple of days.” He paused, then spoke hesitantly. “Mia… were you crying?” There was a lump in my throat. I was about to explain when a surprised female voice cut in on his end. “Mia, what’s wrong? You’re not upset because Lucian’s with me, are you?” “Don’t worry, I only think of Lucian as an older brother, that’s all!” It was Nora. She was a child the Moretti family had adopted, and she was very close to Lucian. The old me would have demanded to know why Nora was with him and torn into him over it. But now, I didn’t even have the strength to fight. Sensing my unusual silence, Lucian cut off Nora’s teasing in an offhand, almost breezy tone. “Nora. Don’t talk nonsense.” Half scolding, half indulgent. Then he turned back to me. “Mia, Nora’s young, she doesn’t know any better. Don’t hold it against her.” “So did something happen? I’m free now. If there’s something on your mind, just tell me.” His voice was still soft. But I felt no warmth from it. I mumbled a few empty words and hung up. Once I’d made temporary arrangements for my grandmother, I dragged my exhausted body—three days without proper sleep—back home. The moment I opened the door, I saw Nora curled up in Lucian’s lap. The two of them were tucked into the sofa, watching a movie. My feet stopped dead. For a second I actually thought I’d walked into the wrong house. I had once begged Lucian to watch a movie with me too. He would just pat my head and turn me down in that gentle voice of his. “I’ve still got a project to finish. Next time, okay? Good girl.” Lucian Moretti was the Mafia godfather every man in the Italian underworld feared, presiding over a sprawling business empire with no shortage of things to attend to. So whenever he brushed me off, I understood. I told myself the weight of the entire Moretti family rested on his shoulders, and I shouldn’t be another problem for him. Yet here he was, watching a movie with another woman… Nora heard me come in and looked up first. She was wearing Lucian’s shirt, the hem barely covering the tops of her thighs. She came pattering over and handed me a pair of shoe covers. “Oh, Mia, you’re home. Come sit down.” I looked down. She was also wearing my slippers. As though she were the woman of the house. Lucian draped a throw blanket over Nora and warned her not to catch a chill. Only then did he spare me a glance. “Mia, Nora’s going to be interning at my company for a while. She’ll be staying here in the meantime—it’ll be easier for me to drive her to and from work.” “You’ve always been sensible. I know you won’t mind.” Sensible. I’d heard that word too many times. I lifted my swollen, red-rimmed eyes and looked at him. “And what if I do mind?” He froze. I said quietly, “Lucian, let’s break up.”
The air went still for a beat. Lucian’s expression stiffened. It took a moment before he knit his brows together. “What are you talking about?” “Exactly what I said,” I answered softly. “If the two of you want to live together, feel free to get a room at the hotel across the street.” Nora’s eyes reddened instantly. “Mia, you’ve got the wrong idea. Lucian and I aren’t like that. I—I only came to stay here because it was more convenient for work.” “If it upsets you, I’ll leave right now…” She dabbed at the corner of her eye and turned to go, but Lucian caught her wrist and pulled her behind him, shielding her. His face went cold, his eyes dark. “Mia. Watch your mouth.” “If you’ve got something to say, say it to me. What’s the point of going after a young girl?” “How many times have I told you? Nora was adopted by the Morettis. She’s the little sister I grew up with. If I don’t take care of her, who will?” Right. Ditching me to see a movie with Nora. Bringing her home. Fighting with me over her, again and again. That was what he called taking care of her. I let out a bitter laugh. “Fine. Keep taking care of her, then.” “I’ll go stay somewhere else.” I walked straight into the bedroom, dragged out my suitcase, and started packing. Lucian first coaxed the shaken Nora into the bathroom for a hot shower, then, in no particular hurry, drifted over to the bedroom doorway and watched me. “Mia, that’s enough.” “What kind of scene are you making at this hour? Where is a girl like you supposed to stay this late? And you’ve got work tomorrow. Don’t make trouble for yourself, all right?” “I promise you, there’s nothing between me and Nora.” My hands stilled. I looked up and met his eyes. “Lucian. Do you remember the phone call I made to you three days ago?” He blanked for a second. “I got caught up in things and forgot. That’s why I didn’t call you back.” “Caught up in what?” “Work.” He answered quickly—but his eyes couldn’t quite meet mine. I knew it hadn’t been work. He’d been with Nora. Which meant, on that day, he had let my grandmother die with a regret in her heart. I didn’t call him out on it. I just lowered my eyes and kept packing. Seven years, and I didn’t have much—clothes, documents, odds and ends all together didn’t even fill a single twenty-four-inch suitcase. Lucian’s frown deepened. When I finally clicked the case shut and pulled up the handle, he stepped into the doorway to block my way. “Is all this really necessary?” “Just because I didn’t call you back?” “You’re not a child. Running away from home—it’s a bit much. I don’t have the energy to coax you tonight.” I didn’t need coaxing. I moved around him. My eyes drifted to the keys hanging by the door, and for a moment I got lost in the sight of them. When we’d first become official, Lucian had brought me here to show me around, pressed those keys into my palm, and leaned against the doorframe with a smile. “Welcome home, lady of the house.” “Mia, from now on, this villa is our shelter from the world.” I pulled the keys off the hook, meaning to make things clear with him once and for all. But Lucian mistook my daze for reluctance, and let out a soft laugh. “What, having second thoughts?” My face went cold. I tossed the keys straight at his chest, turned, and yanked the door open. Something shifted in Lucian’s face. He took two quick steps forward—only to be stopped by Nora’s voice from the bathroom. Small and pitiful. “Lucian, I forgot my towel. Could you bring me one?” Without a second’s hesitation, Lucian turned on his heel and hurried off, unable to hide the worry on his face. Behind him, Nora didn’t bother lowering her voice. “Lucian, maybe I should just leave. Mia’s already so upset, I don’t want to come between—” Lucian’s tone was dismissive. “Don’t worry about it. She’s not going anywhere.” “Mia just throws these little tantrums now and then. She loves me—she’s putting on a show. She’ll be back in a day or two.” “Stay as long as you want. I’ve got you.” I smiled bitterly. So he knew I loved him. But Lucian, even love gets tired. I dragged my suitcase out and shut the door, sealing every emotion behind it. When I got to the hotel, I opened my laptop and began drafting my resignation letter.
HR didn’t approve my resignation. She called and told me to come to the office the next day to talk it through in person. The next morning, a downpour hit just as I came up from the subway. I didn’t have an umbrella, and I was going to be late. So I just put my head down and ran through the rain. By the time I reached the office, I was soaked through. I was still wringing water out of my clothes when a Bentley pulled up behind me. The door opened. A bodyguard held an umbrella over Lucian, who walked in with Nora cradled in his arms. When he saw me, he paused. His eyes lingered on the water dripping from the ends of my hair, and his brow creased. “Why didn’t you ask me to drive you?” Beside him, Nora covered her mouth in exaggerated surprise. “Mia, looking like that really doesn’t reflect well on the company.” Lucian was still watching me, as though he expected an answer. The truth was, I had asked him. Plenty of times. On more rainy days than I could count, I’d stared helplessly at my Uber app, watching hundreds of people ahead of you on the screen, and asked Lucian if he could pick me up. Lucian would only answer, coldly, “I’ve got a meeting. No time.” “Besides, if I drove you in, people at the company would say I was playing favorites. Figure it out yourself.” After a while, I stopped asking. I lifted my eyes and met his. “Lucian, we’ve already broken up. You never drove me to work before. I’m not going to let you drive me now.” Nora’s face lit with quiet triumph. Lucian’s eyes turned to ice. “Fine.” “Let’s see how long you keep this up.” “Nora, ignore her.” He turned, Nora still in his arms, ignoring every curious look from his subordinates. I looked away and headed back to my desk. Soon after, Ms. Smith, the HR manager, called me into her office. She kept her eyes down, flipping through my paperwork. “The resignation forms are all in order. But, Mia—are you sure about this?” “Back then, you turned down other offers just to come here for Lucian. I always thought that was a shame. You’ve finally worked your way up to team lead. If you’re leaving in a fit of anger over a fight with him, it isn’t worth it.” Ms. Smith had been my senior in college, and was one of the few people who knew about Lucian and me. I gave her a small, helpless smile. “It’s not a fit of anger. We broke up.” “My grandmother passed away. I want to take her back to our hometown. Thank you, though.” She looked genuinely startled, then sighed and told me she was sorry. “All right. I respect your decision.” “But at least see the current project through. It’s years of your work, it’s substantial, and it’ll look good on your résumé.” She was already thinking about my next job for me. I nodded gratefully and agreed. My flight out was booked for the following Wednesday. Wrapping up the project in the days I had left would work out just right. To finish sooner, I stayed at the office late. I didn’t hear Lucian approach until his knuckles rapped against my desk. The assistant behind him held out a cup of coffee. The cup was stamped with a small gold logo—the mark of the Moretti family’s private beverage line. Only five of those shops existed in the world. It didn’t come cheap. “Why aren’t you answering my messages?” he asked. I frowned and finally looked at my phone. Two hours ago. Do you take sugar in your coffee? At that very moment, a new post from Nora popped up on Instagram. I tapped into the photo. There were more than ten drinks lined up on a table—milk tea, whiskey, coffee, everything imaginable. The caption had a coy little pout to it. Lucian is such an idiot. Who orders this many different drinks because he doesn’t know what I like? He’s going to turn me into a piggy! Also spilled one of the coffees. I don’t really drink coffee anyway, but it still made me sad. I stared, silently, at the coffee the assistant had just set in front of me. Up close, there was a smear along the rim. Maybe it was the one that had been knocked over. Expressionless, I pushed the cup into the trash. “Sorry. I’m allergic to caffeine.” Lucian froze. His brow drew tight. “Since when?” “Always.” “Sorry. I’ve been busy. It slipped my mind.” Silence hung between us. I had no intention of continuing the conversation, but Lucian spoke again. “Mia. That project you’ve been leading—let Nora have it, to cut her teeth on.”
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