Chapter 3

"Don't be scared."

Damiano's voice softened the instant he heard Sofia on the other end of the encrypted line.

"I'm on my way."

Whatever guilt he'd felt moments earlier vanished without a trace. He grabbed the first dress shirt within reach, shrugged into his jacket, holstered the pistol he never left behind, and strode toward the front door of the villa.

His movements were hurried, almost impatient.

Only when his hand rested on the doorknob did he seem to remember that I was still standing in the living room.

He paused and glanced back.

"Weren't you going to tell me something?"

By then, every word I had wanted to say had already been swallowed.

"It can wait," I replied quietly. "We'll talk when you get back."

He gave a brief nod before disappearing into the night.

I never saw him again that day.

**

The next morning, the other side of the bed remained perfectly untouched.

He hadn't come home.

Only three days remained before I returned to the Vitale family, and there was no point continuing to work for the Valenti organization.

For the past several years, I'd managed one of the family's underground medical facilities, treating wounded soldiers after firefights, stitching up men who couldn't risk going to a public hospital, and keeping more secrets than I could count.

That morning, I submitted my resignation to the chief physician who oversaw the clinic.

He tried to persuade me to reconsider.

I simply smiled and declined.

After clearing out my office, I packed the designer clothes and jewelry I no longer intended to keep. Most had been gifts from Damiano over the years.

I arranged for them to be donated to the younger widows and children of men who had died serving the Valenti family.

As I carried the boxes toward the courtyard, voices drifted from the neighboring villa.

I looked over instinctively.

Several movers employed by the family were unloading custom-made Italian furniture from armored delivery trucks. Others carried marble sculptures, antique cabinets, and crates of expensive artwork through the front entrance while a team of interior designers checked everything against architectural plans.

Among them, Damiano stood out immediately.

One arm rested lightly around Sofia's shoulders while he calmly directed the workers, making sure every piece was placed exactly where she wanted it.

He inspected the security cameras himself.

Adjusted the positions of the guards.

Even reminded someone to replace the bulletproof glass in the upstairs windows before sunset.

That meticulous side of him wasn't new.

Years ago, when we first renovated the villa we were supposed to spend our married life in, he'd personally reviewed every blueprint, every security route, every hidden panic room, and every reinforced wall.

He'd smiled at me then.

"A home should be the one place where you never have to feel unsafe."

Now the house we'd built together barely contained any trace of him.

"Miss Vitale?"

An elderly woman from the family charity foundation approached with a warm smile.

"Are these the things you wanted to donate?"

Her voice pulled me back to reality.

Before I could answer, Sofia stepped out of the neighboring villa.

She wore one of Damiano's oversized shirts, the sleeves rolled carelessly to her wrists.

"I've been having nightmares every night," she said with an embarrassed smile. "Damiano was worried about me staying alone, so he bought this villa for me."

She looked around happily.

"Now we're neighbors."

She blinked innocently, every bit the helpless young woman everyone believed her to be.

No matter how hard I tried, I could never bring myself to like her.

I turned to leave.

I had barely taken a few steps when a frightened cry rang out behind me.

Sofia suddenly stumbled backward as though someone had shoved her.

Her lower back slammed into the sharp corner of a heavy wooden crate one of the movers had just set down.

She gasped in pain.

Before anyone else could react, Damiano rushed forward.

Without sparing me so much as a glance, he wrapped an arm around Sofia's waist, carefully checking where she'd been hurt.

The concern on his face was unmistakable.

"Viviana."

His voice carried unmistakable disappointment.

"Has your jealousy really gone this far?"

I stared at him.

For a moment, I genuinely wondered whether I'd heard him correctly.

Beside him, Sofia immediately shook her head.

"No, don't blame her."

She forced a weak smile despite the tears filling her eyes.

"This is my fault. Maybe I never should've moved here."

"I've only caused trouble for everyone."

Damiano's expression softened at once.

"Don't say that."

He gently squeezed her hand.

"You're family."

A dull ache settled behind my eyes.

Watching the two of them repeat the same performance had become exhausting.

I turned toward my own front door.

Before I could step inside, Damiano caught the door with one hand.

"Apologize to Sofia."

The last thread of patience inside me snapped.

"For what?"

My voice remained calm.

"For something I didn't do?"

"You've targeted her before."

His gaze turned cold.

"This wouldn't be the first time."

A bitter laugh escaped me.

Damiano had never been interested in the truth.

He believed whatever fit the version of events he wanted to accept.

Sofia lowered her head like the perfect victim.

"Please..."

Her voice trembled.

"Don't fight because of me."

"I just lost my balance."

Damiano tightened his grip around her shoulders.

When he looked back at me, there wasn't the slightest trace of warmth left in his eyes.

"I never realized you could be this petty."

"You can't even tolerate someone who's already lost so much."

Each word landed like another knife twisting deeper into an old wound.

Even so...

I refused to apologize.

Sofia quietly complained that her back still hurt.

Without another word, Damiano slipped one arm beneath her knees and lifted her into his arms as though she weighed nothing.

He carried her straight toward the family's private medical clinic.

I watched until they disappeared beyond the gates.

Only then did I remember I had intended to go there myself.

For months, sleep had become something I could only remember.

Night after night, I lay awake until sunrise, unable to remember when the insomnia had first begun.

The prescription sedatives the clinic had given me no longer worked.

I wanted another examination before leaving the Valenti family for good.

The underground clinic was quieter than usual that morning.

After collecting a new prescription from the chief physician, I stepped into the lobby.

Almost immediately, I saw Damiano and Sofia again.

I wasn't surprised.

This was the Valenti family's private hospital. Everyone with enough status came here.

Sofia leaned comfortably against Damiano while he carried the medication the doctors had prepared for her, listening patiently as the physician explained how often she should take each one.

As they walked through the lobby, people instinctively stepped aside.

Several wives of high-ranking capos watched them with unconcealed envy.

One heavily pregnant woman gently rested a hand over her stomach before smiling wistfully at the man beside her.

"Look at that," she whispered.

"His wife is so lucky."

"If my husband cared for me half as much as Mr. Valenti cares for his fiancée, I'd have nothing left to ask for."