The fawning praises of Nico and Ginevra as the perfect golden couple echoed clearly in my ears. Nico's gaze swept over me without a hint of recognition. I felt like nothing more than an insignificant stranger.
Staring at the man I had loved for five years, I finally understood why my parents always said my judgment was lacking. Turns out, they were right. I had been utterly blind.
I never realized Ginevra, Nico's ever-loyal personal courier, had been in a relationship with him all along.
As the daughter of Don Aurelio Ferrante, my blindness didn't necessarily prove my incapability to move in the old blood circles. No matter what, I had the power to lift him to the top and I could just as easily send him crashing down from the heights.
Clutching the resignation letter in my hand, I turned to leave this suffocating place. You don't leave the Family. But I was never truly part of his.
However, just as I took my first step, Salvatore Vecchio stepped in front of me, a fake smile plastered on his face.
"Rosalia, there's no need to rush off so soon."
He adjusted his glasses, his tone carrying an undeniable firmness. "The outfit has rules. Before you walk out of here, you sign a statement declaring that everything you did during your time with us has no connection to the crew. You'll also sign an Omertà pact. Just to make sure you don't use what you know to poach our contacts and our arrangements once you're on the outside."
Not long ago, everyone in the social club knew me as Nico's promised woman. With my ability to secure high-profile connections and broker arrangements with the other families, I was treated with nothing but the best hospitality. Sal was especially eager to involve me in his dealings. He would bow his head and sweetly address me as "Signora Bracciale." That was in the past though. Now, he looked down at me with a self-satisfied smirk, as if belittling me could somehow restore his own sense of superiority.
I took in his pathetic display and said coldly, "A statement? An Omertà pact? What makes you think I'd ever sign them?"
Sal's smile vanished in an instant, his tone turning sharp. "Why? Because of your dirty little schemes! The crew has already shown you mercy by not making this worse. Don't mistake kindness for weakness."
I let out a mocking laugh and asked, "Dirty schemes? Do you even have proof? Or are you just talking about those doctored surveillance photos?"
"Proof?" Ginevra strutted over in her high heels, her manicured finger jabbing toward my phone. She touched the hollow of her throat with two fingertips, the picture of wounded dignity.
"Isn't the proof right there in your phone? Who knows how many contacts you've hoarded, how many associates, how many arrangements. For all we know, the moment you step out of here, you'll start working them one by one to secure yourself a new crew."
As soon as she finished speaking, Sal lunged for my phone. I was caught off guard and before I could react, it was snatched from my hands.
"Give it back!"
Ginevra snatched the phone from Sal's hand and quickly stepped back, a smug smirk playing on her lips.
"Look at how nervous you are now. There must be plenty of things you don't want anyone to see."
She turned to Nico, asking for my passcode, but after trying both his and my birthdays, along with the anniversary of his pledge to me, the screen remained locked. Growing impatient, Nico yanked the phone from her grip and barked at the soldiers by the door to restrain me.
He tried to unlock it using facial recognition. But after multiple failed attempts, the phone defaulted to passcode entry.
"What's the password?"
Since the day we got together, my passcode had always been the date he first confessed to me. How ironic that he had forgotten. Then again, I wasn't surprised at all.
Failing to unlock my phone in front of his men only deepened his humiliation. His face darkened, thunderous with rage, his pride crumbling with every passing second. The room had gone quiet. Even the soldiers holding my arms had stopped shifting.
"Rosalia, you keep insisting those photos are a misunderstanding. Then why did you secretly change your password?" His accusation was beyond tedious.
"It's the date you first confessed to me," I responded.
Nico froze, his expression shifting as he struggled to recall that day.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember. His face twisted, a chaotic blend of emotions, like a ruined painting.
I wrenched myself free from the soldiers' grasp and snatched my phone back from his hands. Nico watched in silence as I effortlessly unlocked it. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out.
