I froze. It was Lorenzo.

I saw Matteo behind him watching us. He might follow me too as instructed by his boss.

“Aletta, where are you going?” Lorenzo’s footsteps echoing against the pavement as he approached me.

I looked straight at his eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. His expression was unreadable, his dark eyes searching mine for something he would never find.

“I just changed my shoes, Lorenzo,” I answered his query somehow. And amazingly, my voice came out steadier than I expected, though it carried the sharp edge of betrayal. “Why? What do you want, Lorenzo?”

“You’re here,” he said, his tone urgent. “Did you—”

“Did I do what?” I asked innocently. He looked guilty with just controlled emotion in his eyes.

Lorenzo’s gazes daggered me and it felt suffocating. My heart, fragile and fraying, strained against his piercing eyes.

I smiled bitterly. “Oh! I saw you and Stefania talking. Was that the thing you wanna ask if I did see you?” I probed.

Lorenzo took a step closer. “Aletta, listen. It’s not what it looks like,” he began, his voice steady and calm.

“Not what it looks like?” I snapped with a frown. I continued my act as if I didn’t see and hear them while my anger actually wanted to break free. “Is there anything I need to know? You see…” I shrugged. And there I glanced at Matteo who was still monitoring us with a grin on his lips. “I just changed shoes, Lorenzo, for the one I put in trash didn’t fit my feet and made me bleed.”

Lorenzo looked at my feet and thankfully the blisters I had became part of my act. He opened his mouth to respond, “Aletta, I—”

“No need to worry, I can manage…” I smiled again, a mischievous one. “I always manage, remember?”

"Yes, of course. And you do understand why I brought Stefania here, right? She is your sister and she’s drunk so I helped her." Lorenzo’s voice was convincing.

I nodded. My breathing shallow as I controlled myself to scream to his face what I really saw. Instead, I stared at him, the man I once called my anchor in a storm.

"Yep, certainly I do. Stefania’s my ‘half-sister’ after all." I said calmly, each word dripping with venom. "She’s the child of a mistress that broke my family. And being recognized as the legitimate daughter of Domenico Volante after my mother gave up being into a toxic relationship…” I sneered as I saw Stefania approaching us, “I hope my dear ‘half-sister’ won’t walk the same path of her mother, who will whoring herself to become a mistress as well."

Stefania’s expression faltered, but Lorenzo’s rage intensified with what insult I said to his beloved Stefania. He stepped closer, his looming figure casting a shadow over me. "Enough, Aletta! Your poisonous words have no place here. Don’t say that to Stefania or—"

“Or what?” I straightened, refusing to cower.

Lorenzo crossed her brows. "No wonder your mother abandoned you, and your father favored your sister over you," Lorenzo stated, which made me tremble. "With that sharp tongue and venomous heart, no one could ever love you, Aletta. In fact, you deserve to spend your life alone!"

His words hit me harder than any physical blow ever could. I’d spent a decade building a life with this man, pouring my soul into loving him, believing in the strength of our bond. And now, he was tearing me apart, defending the very person who had tormented me.

"Lorenzo…" I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Do you even hear yourself? I’m your bride but you are scowling me because you felt bad for your bride’s sister. What a joke you are!"

Lorenzo didn’t answer as his attention had already shifted to Stefania, who sniffled delicately behind him with hands trembling. Wow. The theatrics of my ‘dear half-sister’ disgusted me, but Lorenzo? He fell for it—hook, line, and sinker. Stupid!

"Stefania, are you okay?" he asked, his voice softening as he turned to her. He cupped her elbow with tender familiarity, and something inside me snapped.

This wasn’t the man who had sworn to protect me, who said he would shield me from every harm I will encounter once I became his wife. This was a stranger, one who proved that everything he had said before was just a bait to lure me.

My feet throbbed as I took an unsteady step back. The blisters caused by the heels I wore first still give me pain, but… it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

Lorenzo’s gaze flicked to my feet. For a fleeting moment, guilt flashed in his eyes. "You’re hurt, Aletta," he muttered, almost as if it pained him to admit. “Let’s get back inside the villa. You need first aid.” He commanded Matteo next, “Bring Aletta inside.”

Before I could say something to refuse, Stefania suddenly bolted, her tears spilling over dramatically. "I can’t stay here!" she cried, her voice quivering with the perfect blend of anguish and despair. “Aletta hates me and I felt bad causing trouble here!”

The sight of her fleeing out next—running into the middle of the driveway—was the final act in her carefully choreographed performance. Lorenzo, predictably, rushed after her, shouting her name. And I? I followed with Matteo following me too with an unerasable smirk on his lips from watching us.

“Stop smirking,” I said to Matteo. “Can’t you see your boss ridiculing himself by chasing his bride’s half-sister? You should help him, right?”

“Your sister is not my concern here,” Matteo answered with amusement in his tone. “I’m only here for you, Miss Damsel.”

I made a face and looked at Stefania stumbled into the cobblestone. I rolled my eyes.

“What a pitiful act!” Matteo chuckled. “Your sis—’dear’ half-sister, I mean, should be in acting class.”

I hid my smile from what Matteo had said. I continued watching Stefania and Lorenzo as the latter cradled her trembling form as if she were the most precious thing in his world.

"Stefania, are you okay?" Lorenzo asked, his voice laced with worry.

She nodded weakly, clutching his shirt like a true damsel in distress. "I… I didn’t mean to cause trouble. Aletta just… she hates me so much, Lorenzo. I’m sorry for ruining everything."

“That’s the real damsel in distress…” I told Matteo and walked away. I ignored the sharp pain in my feet as I strode away from the scene. My heart ached, but my resolve hardened with every step.

Lorenzo’s voice rang out behind me. "Aletta! Wait!" he called. “Matteo followed her!”

I stopped but didn’t turn around. "Do yourself a favor, Lorenzo!" I almost yelled, my voice colder than I thought possible. "Focus on your precious—I mean…” I sneered, “focus on my dear half-sister. Help her. She’s so precious, right?”

Lorenzo no longer cared about the doubts gnawing at him and rushed Stefania inside the house after I said that. He looks so funny with his urgency and unrelenting footsteps.

I sighed watching them and turned to look at Matteo. “I think your boss allowed me to enjoy my night, Matteo, so better… fuck off!”

I stepped back to find my car in the parking lot, I changed my mind to call a cab at first. But five more steps, some stone tripped my walk and I sprawled on the cold pavement. I furiously stared at my knees scraped by sharp stones that bit into my already battered skin.

“Seriously?” I shook my head in disbelief. “Why am I so unlucky tonight?!” I hissed.

Sitting up slowly on my own without taking the hand of Matteo as he extended it to me for some help, I noticed something glinting faintly. A cheap crescent moon necklace, its tarnished chain and weathered design betrayed its age. My hand trembled as I reached for it, and an unsettling sense of familiarity washed over me the moment I held it.

Memories from a lifetime ago flooded my mind, and then it clicked: the crescent moon tattoo on Lorenzo’s chest. My pulse quickened. This necklace wasn’t just a random trinket; it was part of a story Lorenzo had never shared with me. A story that now felt inextricably tied to Stefania.

"So that’s how it is..." I whispered, the words bitter on my tongue. The puzzle pieces I had ignored for years suddenly snapped into place, painting a picture I wished I’d never seen. The weight of the realization was suffocating.

Eight years of love, loyalty, and sacrifice—all one-sided. Lorenzo had never truly been mine. This trinket was purposely here as Stefania left it for me to see. I know it belonged to her, I saw it earlier in the engagement party worn by her. That’s why I felt odd looking at Stefania’s necklace that looks old and tarnished, it doesn’t suit her aura. Now, I know… it was just a display for me to see.

Clutching it tightly, I returned to the house. It felt heavier entering, but my resolve hardened with every passing second. By the time I reached my room, I knew what I had to do.

After sending a message to my mother that I will be with her in Sicily the day of the wedding, I looked around and began dismantling the remnants of the life I had meticulously built around Lorenzo. The red and gold decorations that once filled me with joy now felt like a mockery, each piece a reminder of the farce I’d been living.

Hours passed in a blur. By the time I was done, the wedding countdown caught my eye. My fingers hesitated, hovering over the glossy calendar. With a sharp inhale, I ripped off the word ‘wedding’ and replaced it with ‘departure countdown.’

This wasn’t the end, I promised myself. It was a beginning—of my escape from a decade of lies.

I walked outta my room and went downstairs again. I met Matteo’s piercing eyes and just continued my pace. I left the villa with one of Lorenzo’s luxury cars and went straight to a club and ordered a tequila. I saw Matteo following me but I didn't give a damn at all.

****

The next morning, my phone rang sharply, jarring me from my thoughts. Lorenzo’s voice greeted me in his tone of smooth yet distant, as if he were speaking to an employee rather than his fiancée.

"Aletta, are you awake? I had your favorite breakfast delivered. I’m tied up with something at the office today, so we’ll need to reschedule the wedding photos."

I pressed my fingers against my temple, trying to stifle the surge of frustration. "Alright," I replied evenly, keeping my tone neutral.

Lorenzo paused, sensing something amiss. "Don’t let last night’s incident trouble you," he said, his voice softening. "I’ve already apologized to Stefania on your behalf."

Woah! A bitter laugh threatened to escape, but I swallowed it down. "Okay."

"Stefania thinks the wedding is just a formality," he continued, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. "She said we don’t need to put too much effort into it. Our marriage doesn’t rely on grand gestures. And she’s right. What matters is us being husband and wife."

"I’ll go along with whatever you decide," I replied, the words tasting like ash. And honestly, it bores me.

Because in my heart, the decision had already been made. This wedding would be the simplest in history because it would never happen. I would let Lorenzo play his games until the very last moment.

As the day wore on, the suffocating weight of the house became unbearable. I needed to clear my head, to reclaim some semblance of control. I left the villa’s estate, driving aimlessly until I reached a quiet café on the outskirts of the city.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as I settled into a corner booth. I pulled out the crescent moon necklace from my pocket, running my fingers over its worn surface.

"Trouble in paradise?" a deep voice interrupted my thoughts.

I looked up to find Matteo. Again.

I observed him, thinking why he—an ally of Volantes and Corvinos, and one of the most dangerous men in the underground society, kept on pestering me. I didn’t buy his reasons for being my driver and bodyguard after I learned from some confidant what he was capable of.

"Matteo," I greeted, forcing a smile. "Still have the fun following me, eh?"

Matteo’s piercing gray eyes studied me too with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. He slid into the seat across from me, his expression unreadable. "I need to, right? And why here? I thought Lorenzo’s bride-to-be wants to enjoy dancing in the club and not hiding in a café. Alone and looked so sad. Neglected again?"

I sighed, twirling the necklace between my fingers. "Just needed some air." I don’t want to say much about what he said about me. He was there last night in the club. He saw what I did on the dance floor and he was there protecting me with the advances of some men.

Matteo’s gaze flicked to the necklace, his brows furrowing slightly. "That’s not yours, is it?"

My grip tightened instinctively. "Why? Do you have any idea about this?"

"Enough to know it’s not just a necklace for you," he replied cryptically. "You've been keeping it since you found it last night. Why? Playing with fire, Damsel?”

A dark laugh escaped me. "Yep, because fire might be exactly what I need right now."

Matteo leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "If you’re planning to take on Lorenzo and Stefania, you’ll need more than fire. You’ll need allies."

I met his gaze, the weight of his words sinking in. "And what are you offering, Matteo?"

He smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Revenge. The kind that will make them wish they never crossed you."

“And why the hell are you suggesting that to me?”

“Because I have reasons.” He grinned.

The trending headline about Lorenzo flashed on my phone screen like a siren—Lorenzo Corvino spends $8 million on vintage moon brooch to bring a smile to his beloved.

The accompanying photo was grainy, but the world assumed the woman beside him was me.

I stared at it, my laughter bitter and sharp. Eight million dollars poured into a bauble meant to appease Stefania. The absurdity struck me like a slap. While I’d been planning a future with him, Lorenzo had already spent, gifting all he could afford to his beloved woman.

Lorenzo didn’t bother coming home after that. Days stretched into nights, and his absence became a constant. I didn’t ask questions, for I stopped caring about answers.

Instead, I turned my focus inward. Quietly, methodically, I submitted my resignation from Corvino's pharmaceutical company—a front for all illegal drugs they produced for underground society.

There were no dramatic goodbyes, just a few lingering hugs and whispered promises to stay in touch. My colleagues—a handful of whom had become friends—didn’t seem surprised.

“We suspected as much,” Liz murmured when we were dining in the company’s cafeteria, sliding her phone across the table toward me. “Look.”

On the screen was Lorenzo’s social media account’s feed, filled with snapshots of him and Stefania. Each post was a punch to the gut. They were at an amusement park, her smile wide as he held her hand. Another showed her modeling wedding dresses, the caption teasing about—The perfect fit 🥰.

The photo that sealed it for me, though, was taken atop Monte Luna. The moon hung low in the sky as they gazed at it together, his arm draped protectively around her shoulders. He’d never taken me there, despite knowing how much I’d longed to see it.

“Lorenzo’s not hiding it anymore,” Liz said softly. “He’s parading her around, Aletta. I’m sorry.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “There’s nothing to apologize for, Liz. I just wonder what he would say to explain once I told him I know about these feeds.” My voice didn’t shake, though my heart was breaking with the insults the two were giving me. “Or maybe, he thought I don’t have friends to show me his feeds. It’s obviously customized, right? Not for me to see.”

“Yeah, I thought so too…” Liz pouted. “And you still wanted to marry him?”

I snickered. Then I shook my head because I couldn't give her a hint for my plan. “Just say you don’t need to worry about my feelings, Liz.”

“Aletta, you don’t deserve him.”

“Enough of Lorenzo…” I smiled at her concern. “Actually, there’s something I need from you. Better than him and Stefania.” I gave her a USB drive. “Can you help me get some files?”

Liz frowned at first but tilted her head next. “Of course! Anything for you, Aletta.”

“Thanks,” I smiled sweetly. “Here's what you need to do for me… Please help me ensure I leave no loose ends behind. Get the transaction’s list of Corvino’s Drugs and Co. All of it.”

****

By the time Lorenzo returned, I had already packed most of my things. I’d boxed up the wedding preparations, stripped the house of decorations, and transformed the once supposed-to-be vibrant home into a sterile shell.

He noticed the change the moment he walked through the door. His brows knitted together as he surveyed the bare walls and empty shelves.

“Why does it feel so... empty in here?” His tone was casual, but his eyes lingered on the other wedding countdown that I taped to the fridge.

“You told me to keep it simple,” I replied, my voice flat. “This is simplicity.”

He nodded absentmindedly and sank into the couch, his attention immediately drawn to his phone. His fingers flew over the screen, undoubtedly messaging Stefania. I resisted the urge to snatch it from his hands.

While he was distracted, I sat at the dining table, my laptop open. The surveillance files I’d collected over the past weeks—videos of Lorenzo and Stefania, their stolen moments and whispered secrets—were transferred onto a sleek USB drive. Each file was another nail in the coffin of my patience.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance up. His gaze landed on the countdown, and he smiled. “In ten days, we’ll be married.”

I stood, tearing three pages from the calendar. “No, Lorenzo. Seven days. Just a week alone.” I didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm in my tone.

His smile faltered as his eyes swept over the scribbled notes on the torn pages.

Ride the Ferris wheel together…

Watch the stars…

Fitting wedding dress…

Wishes we were supposed to share. Wishes he had fulfilled with Stefania.

Something flickered in his expression—regret, confusion—but it passed as quickly as it came. He opened his mouth to say something, but the sharp trill of my phone interrupted him.

It was my mother. I stepped out onto the balcony to take the call, leaving him alone with his thoughts—or Stefania, more likely.

When I returned, Lorenzo was still sitting on the couch, his phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low, coaxing, and I caught snippets of the conversation.

“Of course, Steffi. I’ll be there soon. Don’t cry, okay?” He hung up before I could say anything. “I have to go,” he said, already halfway to the door.

I folded my arms, leaning against the doorway. “Another emergency?”

He hesitated, his hand on the knob. “It’s business. You know how it is.”

“Do I?” My tone was sharp, and for a moment, he froze.

But then he shrugged and walked out, leaving me alone again.

****

The next days blurred together. Lorenzo’s absence became my sanctuary, giving me the space I needed to finalize my plans. I canceled the remaining wedding arrangements, dismantled the illusion of a future I no longer wanted.

Sixth day before the wedding, I found myself standing in the living room, staring at the countdown. Six days left. Six days to let go.

My phone buzzed with a text. I read it.

LORENZO CHEATER: Can you pick out a tie for the wedding? I’m swamped at work.

I stared at the message, my lips curling into a bitter smile. The audacity of him. Without replying, I walked to the closet, grabbed a random tie, and left it on the kitchen counter.

He didn’t come home that night. Or the night after. Four nights to go before the wedding, I knew he wouldn’t bother showing up at all.

And that was fine.

Because all that remained now in me was the final act—a goodbye he would never forget.