To experience a normal life, I walked away from my throne as "Scarlet," the head of the world's most feared criminal empire.

In the first year after I moved to New York City to open an art gallery, I met Dante, the heir to the Falcone family.

We were in love for three years. He was my boyfriend, my protector, and he spoiled me rotten.

But he never took me to any of his family's events.

I later learned it was because his family saw me as a nobody—an artist with no connections and an untraceable past.

After all, the Falcones were one of New York's Five Families. In their world, I was just an insignificant artist running a small gallery.

Knowing the chasm between our worlds was too wide to ignore, I decided to finally tell him the truth.

But just as I made my decision, I overheard a phone call between him and his father.

They were finalizing the wedding details. His wedding, to Sofia, the heiress of the Moretti family.

It turned out that while he was whispering sweet nothings in my ear, he had already accepted an arranged marriage.

So, I made a move of my own.

I slipped the signet ring back on my finger, the one that marked me as "Scarlet."

If I didn't belong in his world, it was time to return to mine.

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1

On the other end of the line, my Consigliere, Marco, spoke deferentially.

"Boss, when are you coming back? There's a mountain of paperwork at headquarters, and several branches are awaiting your orders."

His thoughts must have turned to my life here, because he then asked cautiously, "And the Falcone heir? Should we assign a detail? He still doesn't know who you are, does he?"

"That won't be necessary. I'm breaking up with him."

At the mention of Dante, my voice was glacial. "I'll tie up all the loose ends here within three days."

That night, Dante didn't return to our penthouse. I didn't care.

The next day, I closed the gallery for good.

After settling the paperwork, I treated a few close friends to a farewell dinner.

Knowing I was leaving New York, one of them joked, "Elara, closing up shop so suddenly... You're not secretly running off to claim a trillion-dollar inheritance, are you? Right out of a movie."

A faint smile touched my lips. "Something like that. I have some family business to attend to."

Everyone froze for a beat, then erupted in laughter.

They thought I was joking, another one of my dry remarks.

I laughed along with them, not bothering to correct their assumption.

After dinner, I dragged my suitcase back to the apartment.

When I pushed the door open, to my surprise, Dante was home.

Seeing me wheeling a suitcase in, his brow furrowed. "Are you going to Europe for a buying trip?"

I couldn't be bothered to invent a lie, so I just nodded, pulling the suitcase toward the bedroom.

"Wait a minute."

He moved quickly, stepping in front of me. "I thought you loved the gallery, that every day was a new adventure. Why the sudden trip?"

I met his gaze, a ghost of a smile on my lips. "Because more important things came up."

"What things?"

"Trade secret."

Dante chuckled, thinking I was playing with him. "Since when did my little artist get so mysterious? You work too hard. You need a break."

"Elara, you know I can take care of you. You don't ever have to work again if you don't want to."

"I don't need anyone to take care of me," I said, my voice sharp. "I will never be an accessory to anyone's life."

Dante looked taken aback, opening his mouth to explain.

I cut him off. "Why are you home so early?"

"I've been too busy lately and haven't spent enough time with you. I was worried you'd get the wrong idea, so I canceled a family meeting today."

Dante reached out, his arm circling my waist as he leaned in to kiss my cheek. "Baby, where do you want to go? I'm all yours."

His expression was tender, his eyes filled with an affection so deep you could drown in it.

A month ago, this would have melted me.

He was, after all, the Falcone heir, a man who controlled a significant portion of New York's underworld, his schedule always impossibly full.

Clearing his entire day just for me was a testament to how much he cared.

But now, all I saw when I looked at his handsome face was the man on the phone, discussing wedding plans.

Was he busy with family meetings, or busy planning a wedding?

How could he approve wedding invitations with Sofia on one hand and whisper that I was his one and only on the other?

The acid words burned the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them down.

Whatever. It was only for a few more days.

Soon, I would vanish from his life as if I'd never been there at all.

I sidestepped his embrace, my gaze sweeping over the framed photos in the living room.

"Dante, let's clean out the storage room. Things collect dust when they sit for too long. It's time to throw out what needs to go."

"Sure. Whatever my gorgeous girl wants," Dante said with a broad grin, grabbing a trash bag. He thought I was just in a tidying mood.

Slowly, however, he began to realize that everything I was clearing out was a piece of our history.

The first painting he bought for me, our anniversary photo from the Hamptons, the custom handgun he’d commissioned just for me, the photo booth strips from Italy...

One by one, I fed them to the fireplace, my expression impassive.

The smile on Dante's face slowly dissolved, his eyes tightening.

When the platinum lighter engraved with my initials—a gift from just yesterday—also landed in the flames, he finally snapped.

"Elara, did you hear something?"

"What would that be? Do you have some secret you've been hiding from me?"

I paused, turning to face him, clinging to one last, foolish sliver of hope.

If he'd just confessed, right then and there... I might have found it in me to forgive him. One last time.

But he didn't.

Dante's gaze darted away, refusing to meet mine.

After a long, heavy silence, he took my hand, his voice raspy.

"Elara, no matter what you heard, you need to remember one thing. I love you. Only you."

A soft, hollow laugh escaped my lips. The last ember of warmth in my heart turned to ice.

For what was meant to be our final goodbye, I agreed to meet Dante for dinner.

I should have known. The last two people I wanted to see were standing at the restaurant entrance.

It was Dante and his fiancée, Sofia Moretti.

The moment he saw me, Dante yanked his hand from Sofia's shoulder.

I stared at them, my face devoid of expression. "What are you two doing here?"

Dante’s eyes flickered. "Our families have a project together. We were just discussing the details."

After a dinner thick with tension, we were finally about to leave.

Dante offered to drive both me and Sofia home.

No one could have predicted the chaos that erupted in the next second.

A black SUV screeched around the corner, a window rolled down, and the barrel of a gun appeared.

A deafening barrage of gunfire exploded, and the car shuddered violently.

The windows shattered, and the force of the impact threw me against the door.

As my vision swam, I saw Dante wrap himself around Sofia, his body a human shield against the volley of bullets.

He was even murmuring to her, his voice a low comfort. "Don't be afraid. I'm here."

My temple slammed against a shard of glass. Hot blood streamed down my face, blurring my world in red.

As darkness crept into the edges of my vision, my mind flashed back to a street shootout a year ago.

We had just started dating.

The same kind of intersection, the same kind of ambush.

I had been sitting on the side of the car taking the most direct fire.

In that split second, Dante had wrenched the steering wheel without hesitation, putting his own side in the line of fire.

The car was mangled, and he was pinned in the driver's seat.

Blood bloomed across his white shirt, but he fought to stay conscious, reaching over to gently touch my cheek. "It's okay. As long as you're safe."

It took the rescue team an eternity to cut him out.

He nearly died for me that day.

But this time was different.

The person he instinctively protected was no longer me.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital room. Dante sat by my bed, his expression a tangled knot of guilt and concern as he stared at the bandage on my forehead.

"Elara, things were critical back there. I had to make sure Sofia was safe. You understand, the alliance between the Falcone and Moretti families is everything. If anything happened to her, the entire partnership would collapse."

"Be angry. Hate me. I'll take it. Just please, don't shut me out like this."

I lay perfectly still, my expression blank.

Every emotion I had for him died in that car, at the exact moment he chose to shield her.

My chest was a hollow cavity, as if something vital had been carved out, leaving only a cold, howling void.

Dante rambled on, his excuses washing over me, until he suddenly stopped, a desperate idea seeming to spark in his eyes.

"Oh, right! Elara, your birthday is next week. Let me give you your present early. Anything you want, money is no object."

At this, I finally turned my head, my eyes slowly focusing on him. "Then book me a flight. Day after tomorrow. To Monaco."

"Monaco?" He frowned. "You're going back to Europe?"

I gave a slight nod, saying nothing more.

Dante didn't push. He pulled out his phone and booked the flight right then and there.

After he was done, he added, "The family has an important project right now, so I probably can't get away to join you. Go, relax for a while. I'll come get you when I'm done here."

He forced a smile. "A plane ticket is hardly a birthday present. When you get back, I promise I'll make it up to you with something spectacular."

"This gift is more than enough," I murmured, closing my eyes. "It's the most precious thing you could give me."

On the day of my departure, I was up before the sun.

Six hours before the flight, I lined my suitcases by the door. As I was about to call a car, Dante appeared.

His face fell the moment he saw the row of luggage. He strode over, blocking my path.

"What is this?"

My expression was serene. "I told you I was going to Monaco."

The explanation clearly didn't satisfy him.

"To relax? Why do you need this many bags? Are you moving out?"

I shrugged. "A girl needs options when she travels."

Dante stared at me, his gaze darting between the suitcases and my face, a desperate edge in his eyes.

"No, Elara, too much luggage is a hassle. Just buy what you need when you get there. I'll wire you the money."

He was adamant that the suitcases stay, as if leaving them behind would guarantee my return.

As we stood in a silent standoff, his phone blared.

Dante stepped aside to answer. Sofia's saccharine voice drifted from the receiver.

His expression grew increasingly grave, and finally, he had no choice but to leave.

Before he left, he gripped my hand, his hold tight. "Elara, don't be gone too long. Send me your return flight details. I'll pick you up myself."

I didn't answer. For us, this was a one-way trip.

Four hours before takeoff, I changed the apartment's passcode from my birthday to Sofia's.

Then I left a small note on the door:

【Since a new mistress of the house will be moving in, it’s only right the code is her birthday.】

Two hours before takeoff, I gathered every photo of us in the apartment and burned them.

Him, holding me at the top of the Empire State Building, promising me the world; him, slipping an emerald ring on my finger on a Hamptons beach, vowing we'd never be apart; his phone wallpaper, always a picture of me; his private social media, a shrine to our love...

We were once so intoxicatingly in love, certain we would grow old together.

Now, all that remained of those memories was smoke. Our story was over.

One hour before takeoff, I received a photo from Sofia.

She was wearing the Falcone family's heirloom necklace, a smug pout on her face as she posed for the camera.

That necklace, the one that should have been mine, now rested against her collarbone as if it belonged there.

A text from her followed.

【See, Elara? I'm the future Donna Falcone. I'm the one the family wants. Who are you to compete with me? A nobody with a mysterious past?】

【So what if he loves you? I can still wrap him around my little finger. We’ve held hands, we’ve kissed… I wonder what comes next?】

I didn't reply. I simply printed out every provocative screenshot she'd sent me over the past few weeks and arranged them in a neat pile on the coffee table.

Thirty minutes before takeoff, I wrote a short note on the final page.

"Dante, I wish you a happy marriage."

Then, I dragged my suitcase out of the apartment without a backward glance and hailed a cab to the airport.

The time for being Elara was over. It was time to be Scarlet again, the woman who brought the underworld to its knees.