There were two tickets to the opera tucked in the breast pocket of Lorenzo Vitale's suit jacket, and I thought they were a surprise for me.

I waited for the night of the performance with my heart fluttering, only for him to leave for the docks on Family business with both tickets in hand.

I called in a favor and paid a small fortune to get a seat of my own, and I watched with my own eyes as he kissed another girl right there beneath the music.

The two of them flashed up onto the great hall's screen, lost in a kiss, eyes brimming with tears.

After the curtain fell, I came across the girl's post:

"Sharing a kiss with the love of my life at our maestro's gala was the best birthday present I could ever ask for."

The comments were all wishing them a long, blessed life together, while I was knocked flat by his car as it suddenly lurched forward in the dim of the side street.

When I came to, Lorenzo Vitale was sitting at my bedside, head bent over his phone, the smile at the corner of his mouth softer than anything I'd ever seen on him.

I asked who she was, and he lifted his eyes and said,

"I'm the man you answer to. You're awake now, so just focus on getting better."

The second the words were out, he couldn't leave fast enough, and I drew my gaze back and dialed home.

"Uncle, that alliance marriage you mentioned last time. I agree. I'll marry him."

——

Uncle Salvatore froze for a beat, then his voice flooded with relief.

"Adriana, you've finally come to your senses. A man who wasted five years of your life and still kept you in the dark deserves to stay in the dark for the rest of his."

"When can you come home? The moment I sent word over, the Falcone side was already pushing to set a date."

Five years of loving Lorenzo Vitale, and the one who never saw the light of day was me.

He was so desperate to cut all ties with me that he wouldn't dare hold up my leaving the crew.

"The sooner the better. My end won't take long."

Lorenzo Vitale came back into the room, looking for his car keys.

"Leaving? Has someone in the crew asked to walk?"

A man doesn't simply walk away from the Family without it clearing him first, so I had no intention of hiding it.

But he was too busy staring at his phone to notice me nod.

He picked up the car keys and said, offhand,

"The doctor said you struck your head, that you might lose your memory. I actually thought you'd really forgotten."

"I was driving. The light was too dim, and you had your head down on your phone…"

I couldn't help but freeze.

So that was why. That was why, even with no one else in the room, he refused to explain anything and kept playing it like we were strangers bound only by the rules.

Ten minutes ago, when he told me he was only the man I answered to, his expression had been cold and distant, laced with just the right measure of practiced concern.

The one thing missing was any trace of guilt.

Right before the car knocked me down, I saw it coming straight at me, and Lorenzo Vitale was sitting in the passenger seat.

The one behind the wheel was the girl he'd kissed.

He hadn't even given me a chance to confront him, just couldn't wait to make an excuse about Family business pressing and leave.

I'd actually thought it was because he'd hurt me, that he didn't know how to face me.

How laughable. He'd never thought of me as anything at all.

"I just woke up, my head's still a little foggy. I didn't know you, boss."

He was brushing me off, so I played along and pretended nothing had happened.

He turned his head, studying my cold expression, a little baffled.

The girl who used to throw a fit for kisses and tenderness over the smallest scrape, why was she acting so strange today?

He glanced around the room, and only after confirming no one was there did he soften his voice to soothe me.

"Adriana, a place like this has too many ears and too many loose tongues. It wouldn't be good if word got back. Just rest and get well. Once you're out of here and home, I'll make it all up to you."

I gave him a polite, perfectly composed smile.

"Mm. Thank you, boss."

In private, on ordinary days, I used to call him "boss" on purpose, teasing and sweet.

But today those two words came out stiff and remote, sharp enough that Lorenzo Vitale knit his brows without meaning to.

He was just about to say something when the doctor came in to check on me, and he slipped right back into that cold mask.

Before he left, he didn't forget to remind me,

"Rest well. And don't go throwing weight around in my crew on account of any special standing. Everyone answers the same. Things are done by the rules."

The Family's house physician studied the fake smile pasted on my face and teased me.

"Your capo already left, so you don't have to torture yourself by forcing a smile. Gruff as he is, that man of yours has a soft heart underneath. He covered every dollar of the bill himself."

The fake smile slid into a bitter one.

Lorenzo had played his part too well.

That was why, apart from a handful of his made friends, not a single soul in the Family knew we'd been together. Five years of it.

I'd asked him countless times when he'd finally let me stand at his side in the open. Every time, he'd brushed me off with the same line about how the timing wasn't right, how a man in his position couldn't afford whispers running through the crew.

To the point where I no longer knew what, exactly, we even were.

Today, he'd given me the answer.

Mistaking me for someone who'd lost her memory, the words that flew out of his mouth, "I'm just your capo," were what he truly believed.

The car hadn't hurt me badly. After three days under the doctor's watch in the back rooms of the social club, I was cleared to leave.

Because the Family's arrangement covered most of it, the overpayment went straight back into Lorenzo's account.

The man who hadn't shown his face or sent a single word in three days finally called.

"Out already? You could've given me a heads-up. I've got a sit-down today, no time to come for you."

"Mm."

I swallowed the accusation that nearly broke loose.

His location pinged from a hotel downtown.

What kept him busy needed no explanation.

A woman's voice rang out behind him.

"Come dry my hair already…"

He hung up immediately.

Not long after, the transfers came through.

One for $13.14, one for $5.20.

Sweet little amounts, both of them. The exact numbers I'd wanted to receive for five years, the ones he'd always shot down.

I'd wanted what every other woman gets, to show off being loved, just once in a while.

Now that I'd decided to let go, for whatever was going on behind those eyes of his, he'd finally given me what I wanted.

Looking at his new profile photo, I tapped refund on both.

His picture was unmistakably half of a matching pair.

Just not with me.

Lorenzo sent me a string of question marks. I didn't reply.

Back at the apartment he kept for me, the place looked exactly as it had the day I left.

So he hadn't set foot here once since the night of the concert.

I reined in my thoughts and started packing.

In just half a day, the home I'd spent five years carefully putting together stood noticeably bare.

Most of it was the couple's things I'd bought with my own money. But Lorenzo had grown so used to keeping us hidden that he hated wearing or carrying anything that might hint he had a woman of his own.

I used to tease him about being as careful as a man living a double life.

Turns out it was because, in his heart, I had never been his woman at all.

Halfway through, Lorenzo actually came back.

"Adriana, what's your problem? I call you for dinner and you won't pick up or answer!"

The scent of a perfume that wasn't mine came off him, and I quickly put up a hand to keep him from getting closer.

I glanced at the suspicious mark on the side of his neck and said flatly,

"Was busy. Didn't check the phone."

He swept his eyes over the apartment, clearly irritated.

"Don't tell me you've been busy tearing the place apart. You just got out of bed, ever think about resting?"

He pointed at the few boxes of brand-new things on the floor I hadn't gotten around to throwing out yet.

"This stuff all junk now?"

I bent down to lift the box, and he took it from my hands.

"Enough, I'll go toss it. And quit buying useless crap from now on. Money burning a hole in your pocket?"

"Hurry up and change. I'm taking you out to eat."

I was leaving. Some things had to be said straight.

From the balcony, I watched him drop those couple's things into the trash without a shred of reluctance.

Just like the five years between us. Not worth a thing.

We went to a restaurant together, one of the quiet places the Family kept as a front, and he ordered several of the dishes we always got. But he also ordered the one thing I hate most, the bitter melon with scrambled eggs.

My appetite vanished in an instant, and I refused to keep swallowing my own hurt.

“Excuse me, could you take this dish away? I'll still pay for it.”

But Lorenzo slid the plate over in front of himself.

“So I didn't sit with you while you were laid up. When did you get so dramatic? If you'd watched where you were going, you wouldn't have ended up there in the first place.”

I'd seen what he looked like when he cared about me. So the fact that he didn't love me was just as obvious now.

Once, when I'd run a high fever, this was the man who'd carried me on his back in the dead of night, running through empty streets until he was nearly in tears. Yet when he was the one who'd put me in that hospital bed, he was nowhere to be found.

The man who knew I hated bitter melon, who'd never once set anything bitter in front of me, had suddenly gone back to the way he was five years ago when we first met, ordering it like a stranger across the table.

I tugged my lips into a faint smile and said evenly,

“I hate eating bitter melon. The smell makes me sick.”

“Then just don't eat it. Problem solved, isn't it?”

His impatience was plain. My smile didn't waver.

“Let's brea—……”

Before I could finish, a woman appeared beside the table.

“Lorenzo, after all these years, you still remember I love bitter melon!”

I lifted my eyes calmly and looked at her, her makeup flawless, staring down at me with open contempt.

She nudged Lorenzo over without a word, squeezing in to sit right beside him, directly across from me.

“Let me introduce myself. I'm Lorenzo's woman, Bianca Russo.”

I didn't respond.

So she made a point of pressing against Lorenzo's arm.

“Lorenzo, why don't you introduce her? She's……”

Lorenzo's expression wasn't pleasant. Around us the low murmur of the club's regulars carried on, ice settling in glasses, men talking business that wasn't ours to hear. But at our table the air had gone tight.

Clearly Bianca's sudden arrival had caught him off guard.

The way his eyes darted away, the way his thumb found the heavy signet ring on his right hand and began to turn it, struck me as almost funny.

“She's an associate in my crew. The place was full, so we just shared a table.”

Lorenzo's head snapped toward me, shock flashing through his eyes for a split second before he let out a long breath of relief.

“Ah, right. This is one of mine, Adriana Bellandi.”

At that, Bianca smiled, sweet and lovely. The corner of her mouth lifted a fraction too fast before she remembered to look gracious.

“Miss Bellandi must be exceptionally useful to him. This is the first time I've ever seen Lorenzo sit at a table with a woman other than me.”

With that, she set her phone down beside her, casually nudging it forward.

The provocation in it was unmistakable.

I caught a glimpse of the photo on her screen. Just as I'd thought, it was the two of them, a matched pair.

Even the clothes they wore today fell in the same palette, like something chosen together, the kind of thing tribute money buys.

Now, sitting close under the soft lamps of the club, they made a strikingly well-matched pair, the handsome man and the beautiful woman.

I set down my fork and rose to leave.

Bianca grabbed my hand, her long nails digging viciously into my flesh where Lorenzo couldn't see.

“Miss Bellandi, you're leaving the second I arrive? Did I say something wrong? I'll apologize. Isn't that enough?”

Faced with a snake like her, I had no patience for these games. I yanked my hand free.

I was just checking the welts she'd dug into my wrist when, out of nowhere, her hand came down in a slap across a little boy playing near the tables.

The boy yelped in pain and burst into loud sobs.

Bianca's eyes instantly reddened, and she rushed to apologize to him.

Lorenzo hurried to press a fold of cash into the parents' hands along with his own apology, the way these things are smoothed over.

Then, without warning, the little boy pointed straight at me and said,

“It was her! She swung this lady's hand at me and hit me! I want her to apologize!”

Bianca immediately put on the picture of wounded innocence.

“Miss Bellandi, I don't know how I offended you, but if you have a problem with me, take it out on me. Don't drag an innocent child into it.”

In an instant, the diners around us were pointing and whispering, the way whispers move through the Family, faster than truth.

Lorenzo shot me a furious glare and said coldly,

“What are you standing there for? Hurry up and apologize to him! Have you no shame?”