Dante Valieri, the most sought-after mafia lawyer in New York, had just signed his own name on my divorce papers.

But he had no idea.

Because while he was signing them, his eyes never left Camille.

The second Camille walked in, Dante had already looked up.

He watched her disappear into the lounge before finally turning back to me.

“What did I just sign?”

“Nothing important. You never really look at the things I hand you anyway.”

He started toward the lounge.

“Next time, just send it to my phone. Don’t make a special trip.”

As he closed the door behind him, I heard him say to Camille—

“You came so early. I was worried I’d miss you.”

And just like that, I was shut out on the other side of the door.

You won’t miss anything anymore, Dante.

In ten days, I’ll be going home.

After that, no one will interrupt the two of you ever again.

“Dad, I’ve decided to come home.”

“Finally ready to come back?”

My father let out a low chuckle.

“Come home, Serafina.”

“A Vescari daughter shouldn’t have to hide in New York and cry alone.”

Five years ago, I told my father I wanted to study in New York.

The truth was, I only came here for Dante.

Everyone said the Vescari princess was obedient and well-behaved.

They only saw what I let them see.

Dante had always worked for my father.

He was his man in New York.

Powerful. Untouchable.

Every day, he drove me to class and picked me up afterward.

He wouldn’t let me go to frat parties.

Wouldn’t let me drink with college boys either.

So I grabbed a bottle on purpose and drank with some handsome stranger in a nightclub.

Right in front of him.

Dante only watched from the dark.

Then he snapped the guy’s wrist for touching me.

Pressed one of his business cards against the man’s forehead.

Then he threw me over his shoulder and shoved me into the car.

He carried me back to my apartment.

I shoved him against the door and kissed him.

He didn’t push me away.

Two months later, I found out I was pregnant.

He proposed to me beneath the golden ginkgo trees in late autumn.

He said having a wedding while I was pregnant would be too exhausting.

We could go back to Chicago and do it after the baby was born.

Four months later, I lost the baby.

Looking back now, Dante always said,

“I’ll protect you.”

But he never once said,

“I love you.”

Then I found the photo album hidden in the attic.

From the time he was ten until twenty-five, every single page was Camille Arden.

And even after our marriage, he was still adding new photos.

That was when I finally understood.

The secret marriage was never about protecting me.

And it definitely wasn’t because he was afraid my father would kill him.

He was afraid Camille would find out.

Dante never drank.

In three years of marriage, I only saw him drunk once.

The night Camille got divorced.

I sat beside him all night taking care of him, hugging my knees until sunrise.

When I walked out of his office, I looked down at the divorce papers in my hands.

Then I laughed.

Dante, some people really don’t have to try at all to get your love.

When I got home, I slowly started packing my things.

Then I turned around and saw our wedding portrait hanging on the wall.

It looked almost ridiculous now.

Back then, I thought Dante just didn’t like smiling.

Now I realized it wasn’t indifference.

It was reluctance.

I took the photo frame down.

And threw it into the giant trash bin outside.

Later in the night, I slept badly.

Half-awake, I felt Dante climb into bed beside me.

His arm wrapped around my waist.

Usually, I was always the one to reach for him first.

But this time, I pulled away.

“Going to sleep already? We still haven’t handled tonight’s business.”

His voice was rough as he brushed his lips against my ear.

“Not tonight.”

Dante could flirt.

I just never knew it until our marriage was already over.

He didn’t force me again.

He only held me tighter.

But instead of comfort, all I felt was suffocation.

“What was that thing I signed today? Let me see it.”

I immediately slipped out of his arms and went to find the papers.

Right before I could place the divorce agreement into his hands,

Camille called.

Dante looked at me.

“Her ex-husband got his hands on a gun. I’m worried something might happen.”

I still hadn’t lowered the papers.

But he was already gone.

He never came home that night.

And I never slept.

While scrolling through Camille’s Instagram, I saw a sunrise by the ocean.

Beside her was the unmistakable outline of Dante’s broad shoulder.

【Darkness is finally over. Everything feels new again.】

I stared at those words for a long time.

Her new beginning was my exit from the story.

For the past few days, I had been busy packing my things.

Sealing boxes. Shipping them one after another back to Chicago.

Dante helped me tape the boxes shut himself.

“You’re only going back to Chicago for ten days. Why are you sending so much stuff?”

“My father bought a new house. I want to bring a few extra things.”

That was the excuse I gave him.

Dante only nodded after hearing it.

“Tell the staff to plant more ginkgo trees in the yard.”

“You like them.”

Every year, I used to make him take me to that row of ginkgo trees.

And all this time, he thought I loved the trees themselves.

It never even crossed his mind what that proposal meant to me.

“No need.”

He paused what he was doing and looked at me.

“I like sycamore trees now.”

He let out a quiet laugh and nodded.

I smiled back at him.

So this whole time, Dante never argued with me not because he spoiled me.

He simply never took any of it seriously.

A while later, he finally seemed to notice something.

“Why are all the boxes yours?”

“You’re not making space for me there?”

I had already prepared an answer.

“Not yet.”

“My dad’s blood pressure has been bad lately. Let’s wait a little longer before telling him you’ll be staying there too.”

Dante narrowed his eyes and wrapped his arms around my waist from behind.

“You’re not demanding I go back to Chicago to meet your father anymore?”

I pretended to reach for something and slipped away from him.

“I don’t feel like watching the two of you point guns at each other.”

He laughed softly.

“He’d never kill me.”

Then he added,

“Whenever you want to tell him, I’ll go along with it.”

That afternoon, I drove out to buy a few things.

At a red light, I looked over and saw Dante driving with Camille in the passenger seat.

My mind blanked for a second.

I missed the brake and slammed into the car in front of me.

A long cut split across my left arm instantly.

When I looked back again, Dante was still turned toward Camille, saying something to her.

I had rarely seen him smile that easily.

And suddenly, I realized something.

It wasn’t that Dante didn’t know how to smile.

Their car drove away.

I called 911 by myself.

At the hospital, I gritted my teeth through everything.

I called him over a dozen times.

He never answered once.

While I awkwardly paid bills, went through examinations, and got my wound treated, a nurse walked over and asked,

“Your husband still hasn’t come?”

I pulled the bank card from between my teeth.

“I’m already divorced.”

Three days later, Dante finally showed up.

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I wanted to say something.

Then I thought about the two of them in the car.

And the dozens of unanswered calls.

So what came out instead was,

“I know you’re busy. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Dante immediately looked serious.

“Camille’s husband was difficult to deal with this time. It took more effort than usual.”

“So… is it done now?”

He answered lightly,

“It’s handled.”

I nodded softly.

I used to love seeing him like this.

Calm. Powerful. Capable of solving anything.

Now when I looked at him, I only found it ridiculous.

Camille called again.

And once again, Dante left.

I sat alone on the hospital bed and let out a dry laugh.

“That’s good.”

“At least you won’t have to run between both sides anymore.”

An old childhood friend from Chicago called me and asked when I’d be arriving.

“Two more days.”

“Then I’ll finally be free.”

“Yeah. He already signed the divorce papers.”

The hospital room door was suddenly shoved open.

Dante rushed inside.

He stared at me.

“Who’s getting divorced?”

“It’s Julie. She’s getting divorced.”

The moment he heard that, the tension in Dante’s shoulders eased slightly.

“She heard you’re a lawyer, so she asked if you might know what to do.”

Dante sat back in his chair, tapping at his phone with a stylus without even looking at me.

“I’m not a divorce lawyer.”

“But I can recommend one.”

Weren’t you the one handling Camille’s divorce this whole time?

I guess anything unrelated to Camille simply gets filtered out by you.

Dante kept looking at his phone, smiling to himself every now and then.

I didn’t even want to know what he was looking at anymore.

Finally, I was discharged from the hospital.

At least it hadn’t delayed my trip home.

I stood outside by the driveway waiting for him.

He was the one who said he’d pick me up after I was discharged.

Otherwise, I would’ve just taken a cab.

So I called him.

He answered.

But in the background, I heard opera music playing.

“I’m out of town,” Dante said calmly.

I opened Camille’s Instagram.

She had posted a photo from the opera house.

If this had happened before, I would’ve been furious enough to smash my phone.

But now, I simply opened Uber instead.

Then I checked my departure time again, my packing list, and my flight information.

Making sure nothing would go wrong.

Making sure I could really leave New York behind.

That night, Dante came home after all.

He even brought me flowers.

“Tomorrow marks ten years since we met. I took the day off for you.”

“Where do you want to go?”

I still wanted to visit my old university.

I wanted to see the places where I had spent all these years.

Late autumn in New York.

The ground was covered in golden ginkgo leaves.

I looked at Dante, and for a moment, it felt like I had gone back five years.

Back then, I had looked at him like girls look at idols.

Like he was untouchable.

And now, he was still standing beneath the ginkgo trees.

But this time, all I saw was a man who knew how to lie.

I suddenly smiled.

And strangely enough, I was in a good mood.

I casually slipped my arm through his.

“Let’s go.”

The moment we reached the library building, his phone rang.

A message from Camille.

“I have a fever.”

Quietly, I watched Dante’s expression change.

First discomfort.

Then hesitation.

And when he spoke again, he had already turned back into the calm and composed Dante Valieri.

“There’s something going on at the firm. I need to leave.”

I looked at him.

I was about to nod, but then something crossed my mind.

So I asked on purpose,

“Can it wait one more hour?”

Exactly as expected, Dante answered,

“No.”

And suddenly, I didn’t feel sad at all anymore.

I already knew exactly what his answer would be.

Before I could respond, he added,

“I’ll come back with you another time.”

There wouldn’t be another time, Dante.

Standing alone on the track field, I crouched down into starting position.

Back then, Dante used to wait for me at the finish line.

Ready.

Run.

I sprinted all the way to the end.

But waiting for me there now was only a wall covered in roses.

From now on, no ending in my life would have anything to do with Dante anymore.

I walked through the entire campus alone.

I filmed countless videos.

I was about to upload them to Instagram when I saw Camille had posted another hospital photo.

【I have a fever, but thankfully he’s here. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore.】

Suddenly, I didn’t want to upload anything at all.

You know, Dante?

If you had just told me you were going to see her, I would’ve let you go.

Why did you have to work so hard to lie to me?

Ten years together.

Was I here to celebrate them today?

Or to bury them?

I think this was goodbye.

My phone buzzed with the boarding notification.

Tomorrow, I could finally go home.

That night, while taking out the trash, I saw Camille stepping out of Dante’s car.

I walked over and calmly stopped in front of them.

Camille tilted her head slightly as she looked at me.

“Dante, who’s this girl?”