Augusto’s footsteps stopped for the briefest moment when he saw Serafina.
His eyes locked onto her.
Only one day had passed, yet she looked different.
Thinner.
More fragile.
The exhaustion on her face was impossible to hide. Even the careful makeup she wore couldn’t completely cover the weariness in her eyes.
Serafina was equally surprised.
She had never expected to see Augusto here, inside this quiet gallery belonging to the Ricci Family.
“What are you doing here?”
Augusto walked toward her, his voice low and demanding.
Serafina’s expression remained calm.
“What does that have to do with you?”
She stepped back, deliberately creating distance between them.
Her eyes were no longer filled with dependence or affection.
They were cold.
Strange.
That unfamiliar gaze pierced straight through Augusto’s chest.
Before he could speak, Dante moved.
He stepped between them, blocking Augusto’s path.
“Apologies, Don Marchetti.”
His tone was polite, but his meaning was clear.
“The gallery is closed. We are no longer accepting visitors tonight.”
The atmosphere instantly became tense.
Ceciliana’s smile faded slightly.
She placed a hand against her collarbone before gently holding Augusto’s arm.
“Weren’t we here to discuss the touring exhibition?”
Augusto’s jaw tightened.
He forced himself to look away from Serafina.
“Hmm.”
Ceciliana lifted her chin.
Her confidence returned.
“Signor Ricci, I heard Arturo is preparing a tour across the Old World.”
“The Montanari Family would be honored to participate in the curation.”
Dante glanced at Serafina.
“The curator has already been chosen.”
“Miss Colombo’s understanding of Arturo’s work perfectly matches his vision.”
Augusto’s expression changed instantly.
His hands clenched at his sides.
“When was this decided?”
“Just now.”
Dante answered casually.
A faint smile appeared in his eyes.
Augusto forced himself to remain calm.
He cleared his throat.
“Serafina has never managed an exhibition overseas.”
“Giving her responsibility for a tour of the Old World may be too much.”
“It would be better to choose an experienced team familiar with that environment.”
Ceciliana covered her lips and laughed softly.
“Isn’t Serafina the one who just left her previous position?”
“An independent curator leading such an important exhibition abroad…”
She shook her head.
“Sometimes talent isn’t the only thing that matters.”
“Connections and protection can make a much bigger difference.”
Dante ignored the hidden insult.
“True ability has nothing to do with background.”
“I trust Miss Colombo completely.”
Then he took out a document from his jacket and handed it directly to Serafina.
“Come to Beaumont.”
“Arturo personally approved your interpretation.”
“He named you as the person responsible for this tour.”
Serafina froze.
Dante continued.
“From now on, you will oversee the entire arrangement.”
Then his gaze shifted toward Ceciliana.
More specifically, toward the bracelet on her wrist.
“As expected of something unique.”
“The Montanari matriarch truly treasures her daughter.”
“Even the engraving says ‘to my love.’”
“A gift like this is impossible to replace.”
Ceciliana’s fingers trembled slightly.
She quickly hid her hand behind her back.
Her smile remained perfect.
Almost.
“It’s just a simple bracelet.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
But the slight stiffness in her expression revealed the truth.
Serafina lowered her eyes.
Then, without hesitation, she signed the agreement.
She handed it back to Dante.
The moment Augusto saw that, his expression darkened.
He slowly took out a sterilizing wipe.
One motion.
Then another.
He carefully cleaned his hands before reaching toward her.
He grabbed her wrist.
“Come home with me.”
Serafina immediately struggled.
“Let go.”
She forcefully pulled her hand away.
“Don Marchetti, have some dignity.”
“Serafina.”
Augusto’s fingers tightened.
His knuckles turned white.
“Stop making this into a scene.”
“Do you really need to embarrass me in front of everyone?”
Dante’s voice turned cold.
“Take your hand off Miss Colombo.”
“You’re making her uncomfortable.”
Augusto’s eyes sharpened.
“This is between me and her.”
“It has nothing to do with you.”
But Dante stepped forward.
He grabbed Augusto’s arm and pulled him aside.
His voice lowered.
“Don’t forget, Augusto.”
“If I had returned sooner, I would be the one standing beside her now.”
His thumb brushed over the old scar on his forearm.
A trace of guilt flashed through Augusto’s eyes.
But he still refused to let go.
“You made your choice.”
“So who is responsible for that?”
The tension between them reached its peak.
Then suddenly, Serafina’s heel snapped.
Her body lost balance.
She fell forward.
Dante reacted immediately.
He caught her before she hit the ground.
At the same moment, his thumb stopped against the scar on his wrist.
“Let go of her!”
Augusto’s voice turned harsh.
But before anything else could happen, Ceciliana suddenly gasped.
“Ah…”
She raised a hand to her forehead.
Her body swayed.
“I feel dizzy…”
Augusto turned instantly.
Without hesitation, he released Serafina.
He rushed toward Ceciliana and caught her.
“What happened?”
Meanwhile, Dante kept one hand steady around Serafina’s arm.
“Are you hurt?”
Serafina shook her head.
“Thank you.”
She quietly removed her broken heels and held them in her hand.
Augusto supported Ceciliana while looking back at her.
His voice was cold.
“Come with me now.”
“I’ll pretend nothing happened.”
“But if you refuse…”
His eyes darkened.
“Then we are truly finished.”
Every word cut into Serafina.
But she forced herself to stand straight.
She lifted her chin.
“We were already finished.”
“There is nothing left between us.”
She looked at Ceciliana.
“Go take care of Miss Montanari.”
Ceciliana tightened her grip on Augusto’s sleeve.
“Augusto…”
Her voice was soft and weak.
“I’m tired.”
“Take me home.”
Augusto immediately nodded.
The tenderness in his expression was something Serafina had never received.
Not even once.
Before leaving, he looked back at her.
His gaze was sharp.
Almost threatening.
“Don’t regret this.”
Then he walked away with Ceciliana.
Only after their figures disappeared did Serafina finally release the breath she had been holding.
All her strength seemed to leave her body.
“Are you all right?”
Dante’s voice came gently.
Serafina forced a small smile.
“I’m fine.”
“I guess today just wasn’t a good day for heels.”
“Wait here.”
Dante turned and left.
A few minutes later, he returned with a shoebox.
“I noticed your shoes were hurting you earlier.”
“So I found something more comfortable.”
He opened the box.
A pair of simple flat shoes rested inside.
Without hesitation, Dante crouched down.
“I’ll help you put them on.”
Serafina’s face immediately turned warm.
She stepped back.
“No need.”
“I can do it myself.”
Dante didn’t insist.
He only extended his arm.
“Then let me help you stand.”
Serafina hesitated.
Then she lightly held onto him.
She changed into the flat shoes.
The soft soles wrapped around her feet perfectly.
For the first time in a long while, she felt comfortable.
Safe.
“They fit?”
Dante asked.
Serafina lowered her eyes.
“They’re perfect.”
“Thank you.”
Warm tears suddenly slipped down her cheeks.
She was crying.
Because of a pair of shoes.
But she knew why.
She remembered the old Serafina.
The girl mocked by Augusto’s men because she was too short to keep up with his pace.
The girl who always followed behind him.
The girl who smiled at gifts she didn’t like just because she wanted peace.
The girl who once fought against every injustice without fear.
The girl who ran barefoot through the grass.
The girl who loved anything bright and beautiful.
That was who she used to be.
The real Serafina.
Only now did she understand how much Augusto had changed her.
He had slowly erased her boundaries.
Broken down her pride.
Then rebuilt her into the person he wanted.
A woman who depended on him.
A woman who forgot how to breathe without him.
A woman trapped in endless sadness.
But now…
A small sense of relief appeared in her heart.
At least she had found herself again before it was too late.
“The work here is finished.”
Dante turned away.
“Go home and rest.”
He walked ahead.
Quietly.
Protecting her from behind.
Protecting the fragile part of her that she had finally begun to reclaim.
