On our anniversary, my boyfriend, Cyrus, the heir to the most powerful crime family in the Braveclaws Territory, cancelled our dinner for his childhood companion. For Lilith.
I found out from a society-page post Lilith herself had planted, crafted with surgical precision to showcase their closeness. The photo showed Cyrus beside her at a lavish poolside gathering at one of the Dicellore family's private villas in the hills. He was smiling. A rare, unguarded, genuine smile I had never once seen him wear for me. Because they were both born into the highest echelons of the Braveclaws underworld, the post spread like wildfire across every gossip feed and social page in the territory. The comments section was a chorus of adoration, begging Cyrus and Lilith to make it official, to cast aside the nobody girlfriend who had no business standing beside a Tangieri heir.
[Thank you, Mr. Young Don, for always making me your number one :)]
Their admirers fawned over their chemistry. Even at the Sogno Publishing offices, I could not escape it. In the restroom on the second floor, I overheard two colleagues whispering by the sinks, their voices carrying off the tile walls:
"Did you see Lilith Dicellore's post yesterday?"
"Yes! Her posts are getting bolder every day! She was practically draped over Cyrus Tangieri." One of them let out a breathless squeal. "I mean, God."
"I know, right? They're perfect together! I can't believe they're not official yet!"
The bitter taste of betrayal flooded my mouth. I pushed through the restroom door and walked fast, heels clicking against the corridor floor, the echo of their laughter trailing behind me like something with teeth.
The memory of our missed anniversary dinner was a knife turning slowly between my ribs, dragging me deeper into a sadness I did not know how to surface from.
Cyrus: [Rhea, something just came up. I'm going to be home late. No need to wait for me.]
I gripped my phone until the edges bit into my palm. The timestamp read 3:15 PM. Hours ago.
[Alright, safe trip.] I typed the reply, closed the screen, and let out a long, hollow sigh.
I had just arrived at the villa after a grueling day of chasing deadlines at the press. When I finally collapsed onto the bed, the silk sheets cool against my skin, I remembered I had not touched my phone once since the moment I had walked through the doors of Sogno Publishing that morning.
I should not have placed so much hope in Cyrus's promise from the night before.
I had been looking forward to tonight's dinner. It was supposed to be our quiet anniversary celebration, just the two of us at the little restaurant on Via Fontana where we had shared our first meal together. But I supposed he had forgotten about it. Again.
Cyrus had been my boyfriend for five years. We started seeing each other in the latter half of our second year at the academy, but we kept it hidden until after graduation. When the truth finally surfaced, it sent shockwaves through the entire school and, more significantly, through the whole of the Braveclaws Territory.
Why did our relationship cause such an uproar?
Because Cyrus was not just anyone. He was the sole heir and underboss of the Tangieri Crime Family, the ruling bloodline of Braveclaws, the dynasty that controlled the waterfront, the financial district, and the old quarter with an iron grip passed down through generations.
Yes. Cyrus Tangieri was the Young Don. The heir apparent to the most feared name on the Eastern Seaboard.
And who was his girlfriend? Me. Adriana Clerici. A woman from a modest, respectable Italian-American family with no blood debts, no family allegiances, no seat at any table that mattered. An outsider in every sense of the word.
Before I started seeing Cyrus publicly, I had never set foot in the world of the elite, let alone the circles where power was measured in territory, tribute, and the silence of dead men.
Cyrus had two people who were always at his side. The first was Patrizio Finetti, an heir he had known since childhood, born into the legendary Finetti Family. The Goldsmiths, people called them. Their luxury empire, famous across the continent for exquisite jewelry and bespoke craftsmanship, was one of the most sophisticated money-laundering fronts in the syndicate's network. The second was Lilith Dicellore, the only daughter of the ancient and immensely powerful Dicellore Family, whose vast shipping and import empire served as the financial backbone of the Braveclaws Territory's underworld. Ports. Smuggling routes. International laundering operations. The Dicellores touched all of it.
Though Lilith had met Patrizio and Cyrus a bit later than they had found each other, the three of them had been inseparable since childhood, raised within the same Family circle, bound by alliances forged in blood long before any of them could understand what blood meant.
Given their backgrounds, the general expectation among the society pages and gossip columns was that if Cyrus ever took a woman publicly, it would be Lilith. They were the ultimate power match, shipped by admirers and hyped by every planted rumor in every tabloid from here to the coast.
So when Cyrus made it known that he was not with Lilith but with me, my life changed overnight. My messages flooded. Some people simply wanted to know who I was, this nobody who had caught a Tangieri's eye. But many of them sent threats. Ugly, specific, venomous threats.
Fortunately, Cyrus, Patrizio, and Lilith publicly showed their support for me at the time. Patrizio and Lilith, in particular, frequently voiced their approval of my relationship with Cyrus. The four of us often appeared together, sharing photos from dinners and gatherings on social media to project a united front, a picture of easy friendship and acceptance.
But the venom never vanished entirely.
Especially when Lilith posted a picture of her and Cyrus together without me in the frame.
Like her most recent post, uploaded barely two minutes ago from her public account, @Lilith_Dicellore:
[What a night! It was all so last minute, but we made it happen! Huge thanks to these wonderful people who came through for me, especially you, Cyrus @Cyrus_Tangieri!
Patrizio @Not_Patrizio_Stars! I've called you a dozen times but you didn't even bother picking up. Next time, you're not getting out of it!
And Adriana @Rhea_and_rea, you're the best for lending Cyrus to me for the evening! I owe you one, big time! Good luck finishing your project. I know you'll crush it!]
Beneath the text were photographs of a night sky, taken from a pool villa perched high on a hill somewhere above the city. The remnants of a small barbecue spread were visible in the background, silver platters catching the glow of string lights.
In the same thread, there was another post with a caption written in a foreign language I could not fully understand. The only phrase that stood out to me resembled "business partnership."
Underneath that caption was a video capturing the lively atmosphere of the gathering. In the clip, Cyrus was laughing beside Lilith as they conversed with what appeared to be foreign associates.
I sat frozen after watching the video.
I had never seen Cyrus laugh like that before. In fact, I had never imagined he even could.
Cyrus had always carried himself with ice-cold composure. A lethal stillness. Even when he traded barbs with Patrizio, the most expression he would show was a sharp glare, a raised eyebrow, maybe an annoyed jab to Patrizio's shoulder accompanied by the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips.
But never a real laugh. Never warmth like that.
My eyes eventually drifted to the comment sections:
[@CyrilithForever:
"Lilith and Cyrus look so good together! I swear they're soulmates. Why aren't they dating already?!"]
[@DramaAlert:
"Did anyone else notice how Cyrus laughs with Lilith? He never looks like that with Adriana… just saying."]
[@PowerCoupleWatcher:
"I always thought it would be Lilith and Cyrus in the end… That laugh! He seems so happy with her."]
[@ShippingQueen:
"Adriana is so lucky that Lilith is so cool about this! But honestly, it's hard not to ship."]
Tears stung my eyes. Within seconds, I was sobbing on the edge of the bed, my fingers still curled around the phone, the screen's blue light blurring through the salt water. Checking the feeds that night had been a terrible mistake. My heart felt utterly shattered, cracked along fault lines that had been forming for months.
This was not the first time Cyrus had attended an event at Lilith's request. I should have seen this coming. I should never have allowed myself to fall for him in the first place.
I drew a deep breath, pressing the heel of my hand against my sternum as though I could hold the pieces of myself together by force. One last attempt to calm the trembling.
Then I picked up my phone and called Cyrus.
He answered after the first ring. "What is it, Rhea?" The voice was low, measured, and utterly devoid of warmth. That cold, monotone cadence I knew so well.
In the background, I could hear the sounds of lively conversation, glasses clinking, and then the sharp crack and hiss of fireworks splitting the sky.
"Where are you?" I asked, fighting to keep the tremor out of my voice.
"I'm at a business meeting. What's the matter?" He seemed to have moved away from the noise. His footsteps were quiet against stone, but another burst of fireworks echoed in the distance, muffled now, as though he had stepped inside. "Rhea, are you crying?" he asked. His voice did not change. Still calm. Still flat.
The fact that he was not even trying to construct a lie, combined with that detached tone, made it impossible to understand what was happening inside his mind. Was I nothing? Was this indifference, or something worse?
I could not help but start to believe what Patrizio had warned me about. Was this really Cyrus's way of playing with my feelings?
I could not take it anymore.
I drew one more breath, slow and deliberate, steeling myself to say the words that had been lurking in the darkest corner of my mind for months.
"Cyrus, let's break up."
