The next day at noon, Adrian finally came home.
He was carrying a gift box in his hand, clearly something he had prepared as an apology.
"Bianca," he said, watching my expression carefully, "Viviana's condition became serious last night. I took her to the clinic."
I said nothing.
He handed me the box.
I opened it.
Inside was an elegant Van Cleef & Arpels watch. The strap was circled with diamonds, exquisite and expensive, glittering under the light.
It was beautiful.
It was also painfully familiar.
Because I remembered that not long ago, he had given Viviana a similar watch.
Mine was merely the more expensive version.
That was all.
Noticing that I did not react, Adrian's brows furrowed slightly.
"Bianca," he asked, his voice carrying a trace of unease, "are you angry?"
I closed the box and answered calmly, "No."
He seemed startled by how flat my voice was.
I continued, "Viviana is sick. You should stay with her."
Adrian looked at me for a long moment.
Perhaps he finally sensed that something was wrong.
In the past, whenever Viviana was involved, I would argue with him, cry, question him, ask why he always chose her.
But this time, I did none of that.
No accusations.
No tears.
No trembling voice.
Only peace.
After a while, he sighed in relief, as if convincing himself that everything was fine.
"I'm glad you're not angry," he said. "After all, we still have a long future ahead of us. But Viviana…"
His eyes reddened slightly.
That familiar look appeared again.
Guilt.
Pity.
Tenderness.
All for another woman.
I no longer had the patience to listen.
"Then spend more time with her," I said.
With that, I turned to leave.
But Adrian suddenly reached out and grabbed my wrist.
His grip was firm, almost desperate.
"Bianca," he said again, his voice heavier this time. "Why do I feel like you don't care anymore?"
When I lifted my eyes, my face was calm, almost empty of emotion.
"What is it?" I asked.
Adrian stared at me, a faint trace of irritation crossing his face. It was as if my indifference had offended him, though even he could not explain why.
Before he could speak, his phone rang again.
He glanced at the screen, then looked back at me. "Bianca, I have to handle some business out of town for a few days. I won't be around."
"You take care," I replied lightly.
His absence was convenient. It would give me time to visit the DeLuca estate and say my goodbyes without having to deal with him.
The next morning, I gathered the gifts I had prepared and drove to the DeLuca family residence. The iron gates opened slowly, as they always had for me, the guard nodding once before waving my car through. Ten years of coming here, and the gravel drive still smelled like boxwood and old stone.
When Sofia DeLuca heard that I was returning to Seattle, worry immediately filled her eyes.
"Bianca, what happened? Haven't you been doing well here in Boston? Why are you leaving so suddenly?"
Vincent DeLuca's reaction was far more direct. He removed his glasses and folded them with exact care, then set them on the table beside his coffee. His expression was dark with anger.
"And where is Adrian? Why didn't he come with you? Did that boy mistreat you?"
My throat tightened.
For a moment, I almost wanted to tell them everything.
I wanted to tell them that Adrian had married Viviana behind my back, in a church ceremony I was never meant to know about until it was too late.
I wanted to tell them that he had abandoned me when my heart condition flared up.
I wanted to tell them that the boy who once promised to protect me had become the person who hurt me the most.
But in the end, I swallowed it all down.
"No," I said quietly. "Nothing like that. I've just been away from home for too long. I want to go back and reconnect with my family."
Sofia still looked unconvinced. "Does Adrian know you're planning to return?"
To avoid further questions, I nodded. "Yes, he knows."
After that, they seemed to understand that I had already made up my mind. They tried to persuade me a little longer, but when they saw that I would not change my decision, they could only sigh and let it go.
After exchanging a few more words, I stood to leave.
But just as I reached the door, it suddenly opened from the outside.
Adrian stood there.
And beside him was Viviana.
Her expression was calm and composed, as if entering the DeLuca family home was the most natural thing in the world. Her fingers drifted to the base of her throat, a small, practiced gesture, before she spoke.
