Lorenzo Marchetti and I had been bound by a betrothal pact for eight years. He poured everything into the Family. When the territory grew restless, he wouldn't even answer my calls, and more often than not, the Family's business made him forget every name-day we ever shared.
Everyone in our circle would tell me:
［The Marchetti heir is handsome and powerful, devoted to the famiglia and not the type to dishonor a betrothal. Isn't that a good thing?］
He's just cold by nature, raised to give nothing away. That's how I kept comforting myself.
But three days before the alliance union, I found tens of thousands of photos of the same woman saved on his computer.
Each one carefully labeled with a date.
My birthday, the saint's feast we'd marked, the anniversary of the night our families sealed the pact……
That night, I searched through every corner of his machine and found a hidden account buried beneath layers no monitored line was meant to reach.
Thousands of posts inside, delicate words and photographs documenting every story between him and another girl.
So it turned out Lorenzo hadn't been carrying the weight of the Family at all. He'd simply been keeping another woman behind my back.
I faced the fact that he didn't love me, and quietly arranged passage to an allied family's overseas territory for the day of our union.
Then I watched, calm and still, as he went on performing like nothing was wrong.
Until, on the day of the union itself, the bride was gone, and he was the one who came undone.
……
Lorenzo Marchetti and I had been bound by a betrothal pact for eight years.
Three days before the alliance union, I found tens of thousands of photos of the same woman saved on his computer.
I quietly arranged passage out of the territory for the day of our union.
I watched, calm and still, as he went on performing like nothing was wrong.
On the day of the union, the bride was gone, and he was the one who fell apart.
"Don Bruno, is that placement in the overseas territory you mentioned still open? I've made up my mind. I want to go."
When the old Capo heard me agree to the relocation, his voice filled with relief.
"Of course, cara. I'll see your papers moved tonight. Only, I heard your union was close……"
"It's fine. There's no union anymore. Don't trouble yourself over it."
There was a faint tremor in my voice.
To keep him from hearing it, I ended the line the moment I finished speaking.
My eyes stayed fixed on the tens of thousands of photos of that woman on Lorenzo's screen, lost somewhere far away.
After our families brought us up into the life, we'd both come to serve under the same crest, the two of us in different corners of the operation.
Tonight he'd gone to a send-off his men were throwing for him, his line switched dark.
His own people couldn't reach him and needed word on a shipment urgently, so the call finally landed on me.
And so, for the first time, I opened his computer, only to find these photos.
In an instant, eight years of memories came flooding into my mind.
In all the time the pact had bound us, there had never been a single photo of me on his phone, never any record of the two of us at all.
No matter how much I cried, no matter how I carried on, all he ever said was that we saw each other every day, so there was no need to keep mementos.
Only in this moment did I finally understand. It wasn't that there was no need. It was that I had never been a necessity to him.
For eight years, I'd found every excuse for his coldness.
My stubbornness looked like a joke.
The words his man had let slip when he learned of the union suddenly rang in my ears:
"Well, well. I thought you'd carry the torch for Adriana Falcone to your grave. You're really sealing the pact? This isn't out of spite, is it?"
Back then I hadn't noticed the flicker in Lorenzo's eyes as he struck his chest and swore:
"We're doing this for love."
Only now did I understand why his man had asked that question, and now I no longer had any conviction left to say those same words.
I drew a few deep breaths and closed the laptop.
I opened my phone meaning to tell Lorenzo I wanted to break the pact, only to see he hadn't even answered the message I'd sent the day before about choosing my gown for the union.
I tapped into his feed. The background was pitch black, not a single post.
Just one lonely word beneath his picture.
【Wait.】
A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, and I sank weakly into the couch.
Before, I hadn't known he was hiding someone else in his heart. I'd only thought he was cold, raised to give nothing away.
Thinking about it now, I'd been laughably naive.
I'd asked him about that single word so many times, and he had never once answered.
Now I finally knew who he'd been waiting for.
Three days until our quiet, modest union. I'd set the countdown as my phone's wallpaper, a daily reminder to myself.
Watching the numbers tick down second by second on the screen, I rubbed my aching eyes and pushed down the exhaustion crowding my chest.
Just as I was about to confirm my passage, one of Lorenzo's men called me.
"Francesca Russo, Lorenzo's had too much to drink. Maybe you could come get him and take him home. I'll send you where we are."
Through the receiver, I faintly heard Lorenzo's familiar voice calling out, "Adriana."
My heart was wrenched up without warning. My thumb pressed to the bare place on my ring finger, the space where no ring had ever sat, and turned against it the way it always did.
The other end immediately muffled the phone and the line went dead.
I shook my head and shook off the feeling I had no right to feel, changed my clothes, and walked to the entryway, only then noticing Lorenzo's half of the matched keychain I'd so carefully chosen, tossed carelessly onto the cabinet.
I'd had it made at a quiet little shop off the books, the design drawn from our own story.
He'd said it was too sentimental and never once carried it.
After a moment's thought, I picked up the keychain and dropped it into the trash.
When I looked up, I caught sight of the matched cups under the table, still sealed in their packaging, never opened.
As if silently mocking my one-woman show.
A helpless irritation surged through me. I took up the bin and dropped every paired thing we owned into the bag.
After setting the trash out, I called a car to the address his man had sent.
I want to see with my own eyes what the person I've been waiting for for eight years really looks like.
The place was one of the Family's quieter rooms above a social club, the kind where a wrong word ended men and the wine was always too good. The moment I reached the door, laughter and teasing drifted out from inside.
"How come Adriana's back today? Don't tell me she heard our Lorenzo's sealing his pact and started having regrets?"
I drew a deep breath, tugged a smile to the corner of my mouth, reached out, and pushed the door open.
The laughter inside cut off instantly, every face turning away, every hand going still.
The man who was meant to stand beside me in three days lay in a woman's arms, his face soft and tender with an affection I had never once been given.
That woman's face, I had just seen countless times on his screen.
