I had broken up with Lorenzo five times, and Gianna had always been the reason.

Lorenzo had used our wedding fund to buy Gianna a penthouse in Tribeca.

Each time I made up my mind to leave him, he would break down in tears and beg for another chance, promising that it would never happen again.

Staring into his love-struck eyes, I always gave him another chance.

Today was the day I would pick out my wedding dress and set our wedding date.

I waited in the bridal shop from noon until dark, but Lorenzo was nowhere to be found.

At ten that night, his friend, Marco, called me.

“Naomi, Lorenzo’s in the emergency room. Come quickly–”

I cut him off. “Is it because of Gianna again?”

Marco stammered an explanation, but exhaustion washed over me.

I closed my eyes before uttering in a flat tone, “I won’t be there. Tell him that it’s over between us.”

This wasn’t the first time Gianna Greco had come between Lorenzo Vitale and me.

Gianna was the daughter of the Vitales’ consigliere. Three years ago, her brother squandered the family fortune in Las Vegas after their father died of cancer.

Don Benito Vitale reached out to lend a hand, setting her up in a luxury apartment in Long Island. She had lived there ever since.

To keep up with her life of privilege, Gianna would play sweet to get money from my boyfriend, Lorenzo.

Lorenzo was Benito’s second-born son.

With Matteo, the firstborn, taking over the family’s mafia empire, Lorenzo was free to keep his hands clean.

Benito secured Lorenzo a well-paying job at an investment firm in Manhattan, but the money was nowhere near enough to keep up with Gianna’s endless demands.

So, Lorenzo started skimming money from the family’s books.

He worked with one of the veteran family accountants in the shadows, funneling Benito’s money into Gianna’s account.

Even Matteo chose to look the other way. As far as he was concerned, Matteo was willing to let things slide so long as Lorenzo kept his activity under wraps.

However, I couldn’t accept that fact.

Each time I made up my mind to end things, Lorenzo would break down in tears and beg for another chance, swearing it was the last time. The love in his eyes was why I folded every single time.

Today was the day we were supposed to go to the bridal shop for my gown fitting and set our wedding date.

I waited in the bridal shop from noon until dark, but Lorenzo never showed up.

That night, I got a call from his buddy, Marco, at ten o’clock.

“Naomi, there’s been an accident. Lorenzo was jumped in Brooklyn. He’s been taken to the ER—”

I cut him off. “Is he there because of Gianna again?”

Marco stammered, “Gianna had her eye on a penthouse in Tribeca…. Lorenzo was caught moving some funds from the books, and the commission…

Not having any of it, I interrupted, “Is he badly wounded?”

“He took a knife to his left shoulder. He’s been stitched up. It’s not fatal, but—”

Gianna’s shrill and entitled voice came on the line. “Lorenzo! You promised me to get the money by Monday.’

Marco spoke in hushed tones, “Naomi, you need to get down here. Lorenzo has been asking for you.”

A wave of exhaustion washed over me.

The constant emotional tug of war was never-ending.

Whenever I thought I was ready to heal and move on, he would rip the wound wide open and rub salt on it.

I closed my eyes, my voice steady. “I won’t be there.

“Tell him that I’m done with him.”

When news got to my mother that I called the wedding off with the intention to break up with Lorenzo, she looked at me and sighed. “It’s for the best. You aren’t right for each other.”

Fighting back the tears, I nodded. “That’s true, Mom. We are not a good fit.”

Once my mother was gone, my phone lit up.

Gianna sent me a brief video clip.

In the video, Lorenzo lay in a hospital bed, his right arm bandaged up and his face pale.

He pulled a smile, his voice raspy. “Why are you crying? When have I broken a promise about getting you anything?”

Then came a text from Gianna. “He’s awake. He said he’s going to figure something out about the penthouse. Don’t be mad at him. There’s nothing to worry about.”

She even attached a tongue-out emoji at the end of the message.

I didn’t respond to her text.

Half an hour later, I returned to the apartment I shared with Lorenzo.

I dug out a suitcase and started packing my things.

My hand paused when I pulled out the bottom drawer of the closet.

A blood-stained shirt was tucked away at the very bottom.

Lorenzo had taken off the shirt after coming back from a business trip last month. He hadn’t had time to toss it away, so I had kept it for him.

My mind wandered back to the incident two years ago.

That was when I discovered the dirty work he was doing for the family. I walked in on a phone call between Lorenzo and Matteo.

Matteo said, “Get rid of the cargo in Queens. Keep the made men out of this. Do it yourself. Make sure Dad doesn’t find out.”

At the time, I had no idea what that cargo would come to mean.

The next day, Lorenzo came home with scraped-up knuckles and blood splatters on his shirt.

I snapped and told him we were done.

It rained heavily that night.

He blocked my front door, and I couldn’t get him to leave.

Rain and blood ran together, dripping from his pant legs.

I told him that I would never forgive him.

Lorenzo, his eyes red with desperation, collapsed at my feet.

Shuddering in fear, I cradled his limp body and sobbed uncontrollably.

Gripped by the terror of losing him, I threw in the towel.

It came a cycle, happening the second, third, fourth, and fifth time.

“Buzz…”

My phone vibrated.

It was a call from Lorenzo.

“You must have gotten quite a scare, Naomi. I’m alright. It’s just a scratch. The doctor patched me up with a few stitches.

“I’m sorry about today. I didn’t get to see you in a wedding dress.”

I gave him a flat, hollow response.

Lorenzo sounded relieved. “I need to run something by you. Can we push back the wedding by two years?

“Gianna fell in love with this penthouse in Tribeca. We don’t get it now, it will be taken off the market next week. I went ahead and gave her our wedding funds.”

Met with my silence, he had been a great help to the family. Dad always said that we owed them. Now that her father is gone, I should help her in any way I can…”

Lorenzo rambled on.

In the past, I would have been hysterical to question what I meant to him.

Yet now, I lost the will to even fight.

“Do whatever you want.”

He could barely contain the joy in his voice. “You’re the best, Naomi. I thought you were going to break up with me since you went quiet earlier.”

I smiled. “I won’t. Never again.”

His tone turned serious. “Trust me, Naomi. This is the last time I’m doing this for Gianna. I swear. The wedding is postponed, but I promise to give you the wedding of the century. We’ll invite the family…”

I listened in silence.

It was the same story in the last five years.

I was moved to tears when he said it the first time.

Now, my chest felt like an empty void. Not even an echo bounced back.

Just then, the sound of a door opening came from his end, followed by Gianna’s voice, filled with thrill. “Lorenzo! Marco said that the seller for the Tribeca penthouse is going to give us two more weeks. Can we check out the place tomorrow?”

His heartfelt confession came to an abrupt stop, his voice dripping with doting affection. “I just got stitches, sweetheart. Alright, alright, don’t get upset. It’s my fault. I’ll go with you tomorrow.”

Not having any of it, I hung up on Lorenzo.

In truth, things between Lorenzo and me weren’t always like this.

Back when we started dating, Lorenzo was just an analyst at a firm in Manhattan.

More than anyone, Loren was dying to prove that he could make VP before the age of thirty without his family’s shadow.

The first thing he did when his bonus cleared was take me to look at the townhouses in Williamsburg, mapping out our future on the blueprints.

At the time, his eyes were full of hope for our future.

That changed when Gianna’s father passed away three years ago.

Though Gianna’s brother had blown off the family’s entire fortune, Gianna kept up with her lavish lifestyle.

Spoiled rotten, Gianna had properties across the globe, endless designer bags, the latest sports cars, and millions in fine jewelry.

Gianna would go to Lorenzo for whatever she wanted.

No matter how much Lorenzo made, it was never enough to meet Gianna’s endless demands.

Eventually, he started helping Matteo deal with the family’s more unsavory business.

Each time Lorenzo returned home injured, I knew that he had taken up another job for Gianna.

Drawing a deep breath, I dialed my old college professor’s number.

“Professor Green, do you still have an opening at the polar observatory in Iceland?”

Tyler Green sounded grim. “Yes, but the security clearance is high. Once you’re in, it’ll be at least three years before you can leave. You’ll be off the grid the whole time. Are you ready for that?”

“I am.”

Tyler paused for a bit. “You were against going before. Are you going because you dumped the kid?”

My tears well up. “Yes.”

While I dragged my suitcase out of the apartment building, a sports car pulled up by the road.

The car window wound down.

Gianna sat there. She was supposed to meet the broker tonight to raise the bid on the Tribeca penthouse, but the meeting was moved to tomorrow morning out of the blue. Annoyed, Gianna came by Lorenzo’s apartment to pick up a bottle of red wine promised to her. To her surprise, she ran into me walking out with my suitcase.

With her gaze shifting to my luggage, Gianna raised a brow and chuckled.

“What’s this? Leaving in the middle of the night?”

The wind in Brooklyn at one in the morning whipped my hair around my face.

I smiled. “How am I supposed to make room for you if I don’t go?”

She pushed the car door open and stepped out, her arms folded. “Don’t go around, saying that I come between you two. It’s ridiculous. Lorenzo wants to spend money on me. How is that my fault?”

Gianna paused, her tone flippant. “You’re just a sad little thing. Once, he got drunk and told me that he would have never settled for you if I hadn’t turned him down. Stop acting as if I stole him from you. You wouldn’t stand a chance if I were game.”

The night breeze dried out my eyes.

I wasn’t upset in the slightest.

All I could think of was how absurd the last five years had been.

I smiled indifferently. “Cheers to the happy couple. I hope you stay together forever.”

My response caught Gianna off guard.

She was probably used to my tears, accusations, and hysterics. My composure only frustrated her to no end.

As I turned on my heel, Gianna grabbed the strap of my suitcase. “Hang on there. Who gave you permission to leave? Lorenzo is lying in a hospital bed, and I’m not tending to him. You need to take care of him.”

“Let go.”

Instead of releasing her grip, Gianna pulled out her phone and got Lorenzo on a video call.

She put on teary eyes the moment the screen lit up, her voice shaking. “Lorenzo… Did I upset Naomi again? I was going to invite her to check out the penthouse you bought me, but she packed her bags to leave. She won’t visit you, and I can’t hold her back…”

Lorenzo’s face was discolored on the screen, his arm wrapped in bandages.

He didn’t even bother to ask why I was on the streets of Brooklyn with my bags in the dead of the night or whether I was freezing.

Lorenzo furrowed his brows, his voice resigned. “Naomi, what’s this now? Didn’t we sort things out on the phone? Don’t give Gianna a hard time and come to the hospital now.”

I stood in the biting wind.

Tyler’s words came to mind. “The security clearance for Iceland is tight. Hand me your passport first thing in the morning so I can start the paperwork.”

All my vital documents were with Lorenzo.

Today was the day we would set our wedding date.

We were supposed to head to city hall to file for marriage, so my document holder was with him last night.

The holder was sitting right on his nightstand beside his hospital bed.

I stared at him through the screen, my tone light. “Fine. I’ll be right there.”