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.

“Who was that? I thought I heard something about a visa,” Lorenzo asked casually, his gaze fixed on his phone, scrolling as always. I don’t know what time he got home last night. And I didn’t care to ask.

“It’s nothing. Just work-related,” I replied, my tone light, dismissive.

His shoulders relaxed, the tension leaving him with a quiet sigh. “Good. I hope you’re not planning some extravagant honeymoon. I don’t have time for that.”

“I know,” I said simply.

Since Stefania had returned to his life, Lorenzo barely had room for anything—or anyone—else. It was obvious, even in the smallest moments. We were sitting side by side on the couch, but the silence between us was palpable. Heavy. Suffocating.

The quiet stretched on until I couldn’t bear it any longer. I stood and went to the bedroom. When I returned, Lorenzo held the crescent moon necklace. “This,” he said. “How did it end up with you? I’ve been looking for it everywhere.”

“I found it on the road,” I replied. “Only realized it was yours after I saw your lost item post online. I wanna give it to you, anyway. Since you have it, no surprise wedding gift then.”

Lorenzo’s eyes flicked to the necklace, a spark of recognition lighting up his face. “Yeah. Thanks.”

I nodded, feigning indifference. It didn’t escape me that he had spent two million dollars searching for that trinket—because it belonged to Stefania. Meanwhile, the total cost of our wedding barely reached six hundred thousand.

The favoritism was so blatant, it was almost laughable.

“You seem relieved,” I said coolly. “By the way… where’s our wedding rings?” I asked since he said he will show those to me.

That caught him off guard. His hand instinctively went to his pocket, “I… I forgot it.”

I stared at him, silent, unyielding. Something flickered in his expression—uncertainty, discomfort. Lorenzo Corvino, the man who ruled his organization with an iron fist, looked uneasy under my gaze.

He shifted in his seat, opening his mouth as if to explain. But before he could, his phone buzzed. The screen lit up with Stefania’s name.

Without a word, Lorenzo stood. The tension in his shoulders spoke louder than any excuse he could have offered. He took a step toward the door but stopped halfway. Turning back, he leaned down and pressed a fleeting kiss to my forehead.

“Sorry, mia moglie,” he murmured, his voice unusually soft. “I’ve been so caught up lately. You’ve had to handle everything on your own.”

I didn’t respond. I just smiled. Acting dumb again in his eyes.

“I promise,” he continued, a faint smile playing on his lips, “once this busy schedule is over, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world.”

He said the words like a man reciting lines from a script—lines that had worked wonders before. If this had been the past, I might have believed him. I might have clung to those words, hoping against hope that they were true.

But not now. Not anymore.

I watched him walk out, closing the door behind him without a backward glance. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. His sweet words were nothing but sugar coating over a bitter reality that once might have made my heart flutter.

****

The following day, the last two days before the wedding, dawned gray and overcast. Only two thin pages remained on the calendar in the living room. I tore one page without ceremony, my eyes lingering on today’s wish—Have a reunion dinner together with families.

It was a wish I had clung to for years, a dream born from the fracture of my family. But just as my mother could never forgive my father, I could never forgive Lorenzo.

I didn’t dwell on it. There was no point.

Instead, I applied a light touch of makeup, slipping into a black and red dress I’d always loved. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was enough to remind me of who I was—before Lorenzo, before Stefania, before all of this.

I spent the day alone. I went to the movies, ordering a full couple’s meal for myself. The server gave me a curious look, but I ignored it, savoring the food without a care for how it might appear.

Next, I rode the Ferris wheel. It was something I’d always wanted to do, though Lorenzo had never found the time. As the gondola climbed higher, the city stretched out before me. The sun began its slow descent, casting everything in a golden, almost ethereal light.

At the highest point, I opened the gondola’s window and let the wind rush in. The breeze kissed my face, carrying away the remnants of sadness that clung to me like a second skin. For the first time in years being with Lorenzo, I felt weightless. Free.

I opened my arms and let the moment wash over me.

The memories—the fights, the lies, the betrayals—seemed to drift away with the wind, fading into the horizon as the sun disappeared below it. In their place, there was only peace.

The Ferris wheel slowed to a gentle halt, and I stepped off, still carrying the faint remnants of the breeze that had seemed to cleanse me. As I walked through the park, the colorful lights from nearby attractions painted the ground in shifting patterns. My heels clicked against the pavement, a steady rhythm that matched the calm resolve building in my chest.

“Miss Damsel!”

The voice was soft but unmistakable. I turned to see Matteo standing a few paces away, his tall frame silhouetted against the glowing carnival lights. His eyes were fixed on me, a mixture of concern and something deeper flickering in their depths.

“Matteo,” I said, my tone neutral. “What’s the need to follow me even here?”

He stepped closer, his presence grounding me in a way I couldn’t quite explain. “I could ask you the same thing. Riding a Ferris wheel alone, dressed like you’re going for some date night? That’s quite lonely!”

I rolled my eyes and turned to walk away. “I wanted to be alone.”

“Clearly,” he replied, following. “But you know I can’t just let you wander around without keeping an eye on you, Miss Damsel.”

I stopped walking, faced him. “What you can’t comprehend in what I said?”

“Same question for you, Damsel. What you don’t get when I say ‘I can’t just let you wander without keeping an eye on you,’ huh?’

“What’s your problem?” I annoyingly asked. “Don’t tell me you wanna keep your act playing a loyal dog of Lorenzo when in fact you already suggested something ‘revenge,’ right?”

“Act?” He grinned. “Aren’t we on the same boat?”

“Matteo…” I hushed his name with my controlled emotion of being irritated. “I know you hate the Corvinos and Volantes, I feel that. Even though I don’t know your reasons at all… still, that’s not my business to dig on. I hope you get what I mean. Do what makes you happy and satisfied and so let me do my business. Alone!”

“I know,” Matteo firmly said as he followed. “I know you’re planning on not marrying him,” he added calmly, which made me stop walking.

Who told Matteo that? It was just Mama that I informed.

“Don’t overthink.” Matteo chuckled, flashing his set of white teeth. “Let me say that I know your plan of escaping for it was the usual thing the scorned woman do when they were cheated by their beloved.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Yeah…” He nodded. “And I’m here suggesting some additives plans for I know how complicated that will be for you so… you know, I can’t just stand by and say nothing.”

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “You don’t understand anything about me, Matteo! Whatever I was plotting, it’s not that simple right but I already made sure of its success! So for the nth time. Just fuck off!” I turned and walked away from him. Hoping he won’t follow anymore.

“You deserve better, Damsel!” Matteo said loudly that I puffed out some air irritatedly. “You deserve someone who sees you! Who values you! Not someone who’s too busy with some bitch and disregarding a gem like you…” he whispered his last sentence as I was already in front of him.

And that made me forget what to rebut. The part of me that had been fighting to stay strong for so long wanted to collapse into his arms, to let him take away the weight I’d been carrying. But another part of me, the part that had built walls around my heart to survive, refused to let him in and see my weakness.

“I have to go,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “Please let me go, Matteo. Alone. I need to be alone.”

He nodded, stepping back. “If that’s what you want.”

“Thanks.” I turned and walked away, my steps quick and purposeful. But I couldn’t ignore the feeling that I was leaving something important behind. Matteo’s words echoed in my mind, stirring emotions.

When I reached home, the house was as empty as I’d left it. The final page of the calendar stared back at me, a silent reminder of the day to come.

Tomorrow wasn’t just the last day before the wedding. It was the last chance to decide what kind of future I wanted—and whether I was brave enough to take it.

****

I woke up with another plan in my mind. I wanna spend my last day before the wedding so I will be strolling at the Flora Park and I hope Matteo won’t follow me. I admit that he helped me more with my escape plan with his suggestions when we were in a café two weeks ago but that’s just it. Still, I didn’t tell him what I was really planning.

I looked around the park. The place where I held many memories of mine with Lorenzo when we were teenagers.

I bought my last ice cream of the night, a strawberry cone, and strolled out of the park as the warm lights behind me faded into the distance. I found a bench near the fountain, sitting down to savor the melting treat. Above me, the constellations glimmered like scattered diamonds, their eternal presence a quiet reassurance.

The stars had always been my sanctuary, the only constant in my chaotic world. As a child, during those nights when my father’s rage spilled over and I was sent fleeing into the dark, Lorenzo would find me. He’d take my hand, pull me into the grass, and we’d lie there, watching the heavens until my tears dried.

That version of Lorenzo felt so far away now, a relic of a past that no longer mattered. People came and went, fleeting and unpredictable, but the stars—they never left. No matter where I ended up, the same constellations would shine above me.

I finished the ice cream and stood to leave. The night was quiet, peaceful, until a message pinged on my phone, cutting through the stillness.

STEFANIA BITCH: Dad’s sweet and sour fish is amazing as always! I bet you must’ve never tried it, Aletta.

Curiously, I clicked on the attached video. It opened to a scene of two families seated around a lavish dinner table. Red and gold decorations adorned the walls, double happiness symbols prominently displayed. In the center of it all, Lorenzo and Stefania sat close, laughing and talking animatedly.

My stomach twisted, but not with anger. No, this felt more like bitter amusement.

Was this supposed to hurt me? Stefania’s petty games were laughable at best. I’d endured far worse than her childish attempts to gloat. But what struck me was the irony—whose wedding were they celebrating? Mine? Or hers?

With a calm detachment, I deleted and blocked her number. Then, almost instinctively, I opened my chat with Lorenzo.

The last message I’d sent him was a week ago. I scrolled up, skimming through months of one-sided conversations. I had shared everything with him—plans for our future, updates on mundane parts of my day, even moments when I just needed someone to talk to. His replies, when they came, were short and perfunctory. Most of the time, they weren’t about me at all. They were about Stefania.

And what was the point of reviewing my chat box with Lorenzo? Just checking for the audacity and absurdity?

I set the phone down, ready to leave, when it began to ring. Lorenzo’s name flashed across the screen.

“Where are you?” His voice came through sharp and impatient. “Why aren’t you home yet? It’s late.”

I glanced at the time—8:20 p.m. It wasn’t particularly late by his standards. How many nights had he stayed out until dawn without a word? How many times had I waited for him for the last three months we were living together in the villa that I left the light on, hangover soup ready on the stove?

“I could ask you the same thing, you know. Where have you been, Lorenzo?” I said evenly, “And what’s the matter not seeing me right now? The wedding will be tomorrow yet all of it is for formality, so… there’s no need to stay home, right?”

“Aletta,” he said, his tone softening, but there was still that edge of control, that undercurrent of possession. “You know I’m busy. Okay… I get it. I’m sorry for leaving you and making you arrange everything for the wedding alone. But I haven’t seen you in days, of course, I miss you. That’s why I’m looking for you. And our family has a reunion right now, you must be here.”

I almost laughed. It was so absurd it bordered on comedy. “You miss me?” I asked with my taunting tone. “Really, Lorenzo?”