Chapter 3

I tore the wedding binder apart, page by page, and threw it in the trash.

Late that night, Silas finally came home, buzzing with adrenaline.

"Scarlett, that was way too close. Thank God Camilla's fine, and we got the shipment back."

He walked toward me, leaning in to kiss my cheek, acting as if everything was perfectly normal.

I sat on the couch, looking down at my phone. I was busy wiring the funds from my New York accounts to overseas banks.

"Congratulations," I said, dodging his kiss. My voice was deadpan.

Silas stopped. His eyes drifted to the trash can, catching a glimpse of the shredded pages with the word Wedding on them.

His expression darkened.

"Scarlett," he said coldly. "Is this how you show you're upset? Are you seriously pitching a fit over this?"

I looked up at him. "Over what?"

"I had to leave for the Famiglia!" his voice rose. "And this is how you throw a tantrum? The silent treatment? Ripping up the wedding plans just so I can see?"

A dry laugh escaped my lips.

It made him frown harder.

"Silas," I looked him dead in the eye. "I'm not throwing a tantrum. I really meant congratulations."

He froze. Then, a wave of offended anger washed over his face.

"Fine," he sneered. "Since you don't care, we're not making up for the anniversary either."

The study door slammed shut behind him.

I brushed off his anger and focused back on my phone. There was an encrypted email.

Sender: Julian Greycastle.

The Don of the Greycastle Famiglia in Chicago.

We had met at an auction a month ago, and he made no secret of his interest in me. I rejected him without a second thought back then.

Now, I typed my reply: I accept your offer. I land in Chicago in five days.

For the next three days, Silas left early and came home late.

We lived under the same roof like strangers. I stopped following him around, stopped asking where he was going, stopped reminding him to eat.

I was busy packing. Not seeing him actually felt like a relief—at least I didn't have to hide it.

Early on the fourth morning, I got a call from Dario, Silas's bodyguard.

"Donna," he sounded frantic. "The boss's migraine is acting up. He smashed half the room and won't listen to anyone. He's out of his meds, could you please..."

I looked at the silver pillbox on the table. It was a custom prescription I had hunted down from countless doctors just for him.

"Last time," I sighed to myself.

I grabbed the pills and drove to the Vance estate.

At the end of the hall, the bedroom door was slightly ajar. I heard voices and instinctively stopped.

"...This color suits you perfectly." It was Silas's gentle voice.

I peeked through the crack.

Camilla was standing in front of a mirror, an emerald necklace draped over her collarbones.

It was the necklace Silas had won at a European auction last month. He had texted me a picture back then: Early anniversary gift. Do you like it?

I had loved it so much my heart felt like it would burst.

Now, it was on another woman's neck.

"But Don Silas," Camilla bit her lip, looking worried. "Will Scarlett be mad? She's been so moody lately..."

Silas sat on the couch, looking pale, but his eyes were dripping with affection.

"Your position in the Famiglia is different now," he murmured. "You're going to attend a lot of events for me. You need decent jewelry to hold your own. Scarlett is the future Donna; she won't hold a grudge over a piece of jewelry. I'll just buy her another one."

Standing outside the door, it felt like a knife was twisting slowly in my chest.

My spot in the photo... my necklace... he could give it all away so easily.

It hit me with crushing clarity just how little I meant to him.

I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Camilla whipped around. Her hand jerked, knocking over the white porcelain mug on the nightstand.

A sharp crash echoed. The porcelain shattered into pieces.

I made that mug for him two years ago. Carved on the bottom were the words: For S. Forever.

Chapter 4

The porcelain shards scattered across the floor, just like my broken heart.

I remembered the day I gave it to him. He scoffed, "What's the point of a handmade mug? Any teacup in this house is worth more."

Yet that night, he placed it on his nightstand, right where he'd see it the moment he woke up. I was so happy, thinking he was just tough on the outside but loved me on the inside.

Now the mug was in pieces.

And Silas didn't even look at it.

He stood up, crossed the room in two strides, and grabbed Camilla's wrist. "Did you burn yourself?"

Her other hand had brushed against a lit candle on the nightstand. Her fingertip was slightly red.

"I'm fine, Silas. It's just a scratch..." Her voice trembled, tears pooling in her eyes.

Silas frowned, turning his furious gaze to me. "Scarlett, I'm not blaming you, but why didn't you knock? What if she got seriously hurt?"

I just stared. The man I had loved for four years was frantic over a red spot on another woman's finger.

I didn't say a word. I quietly knelt, picked up the jagged shards one by one, and tossed them into the trash.

I stood up and placed the silver pillbox on the table.

"Here are the meds."

As I turned and walked out, I heard Silas call my name. He started to follow me, but Camilla's tearful voice stopped him.

"Don Silas, let her cool off. If we chase after her, it'll only make her more upset... This is all my fault."

The footsteps stopped.

I smiled to myself and kept walking.

The next night was a massive victory gala for the Vance Famiglia. A business strategy had pulled in more profits than the last three years combined.

I had spent countless sleepless nights drafting that strategy.

Back then, Silas held me in bed, kissed my forehead, and promised, At the gala, I'm going to let all of New York know how brilliant Scarlett is. I want every man in this city to envy me.

So, I wore a burgundy gown and walked into the ballroom. I thought I deserved to witness my own success.

Instead, I saw Silas standing in the center of the room with the Elders, beaming.

Camilla was clinging to his arm in a champagne dress, the emerald necklace resting perfectly on her chest.

"...The success of this operation is all thanks to Camilla," Silas announced loudly, raising his glass. "A toast to our Famiglia's finest Capo!"

I stood ten feet away, my feet glued to the floor.

The Elders raised their glasses, praising Camilla's brilliance and Silas's eye for talent.

Camilla lowered her head modestly. "It was all under Don Silas's guidance."

I watched as my blood, sweat, and tears were casually handed over to someone else.

Anger, humiliation, and deep resentment collided in my chest.

I forced my trembling hand to steady, grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and walked right up to them.

Silas's face changed the second he saw me.

Without a single word, I threw the entire glass of champagne right into his face.

The entire room fell dead silent.

I turned on my heel and walked out. Silas chased me down the hallway and grabbed my wrist.

"Scarlett! Are you insane? Do you know how bad you made me look in front of all those people?"

I ripped my hand out of his grip.

Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, his voice softened. "I didn't think you were coming tonight... I gave Camilla the credit to keep the Famiglia united. She took a bullet on the Westside. I had to compensate her somehow. But regardless, what you did was way out of line."

I looked up at him. The face I had loved for four years.

Under the dim lights, his features were exactly the same, but the Scarlett who loved him was already dead inside.

"Silas," I asked softly. "Did you really think I would never leave?"

He froze.

I didn't wait for his answer. I walked into the elevator.

Back at the penthouse, I dragged my two packed suitcases to the door.

I took off the engagement ring he gave me and left it on the console table.

I wanted a clean break. No ties. No leftovers.

On the plane, I leaned against the window, watching the city I lived in for four years disappear under the clouds.

Silas.

I whispered the name in my heart one last time.

Four years of sweetness, endurance, heartbreak, and despair—it all ended here.