Arianna's POV
Dominic's questioning tone dissolved into silence as my cool, indifferent response cut through him like a blade. His breath hitched on the other end of the line, but I didn't wait for a reply. I ended the call and leaned back in the passenger seat, watching the darkened streets blur past as the car sped toward Castellano territory.
The moment I stepped out onto the gravel drive, something deep inside me stirred with unease. The night was clear, the moon hanging high and full, its pale light washing over the iron gates and stone walls of the old estate like a silent witness. It felt as though the sky itself knew the turmoil churning in my chest. My phone buzzed in my coat pocket, pulling me back to earth. The Valente Family's private group chat had erupted. The unread message count had skyrocketed.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I opened it. The first thing I saw was a photograph Selena had posted — a picture of Dominic crouched beneath her desk, sleeves rolled to the elbows, fixing the wiring on her office setup, his shirt taut across his shoulders from the effort. Something visceral tightened in my gut, a warning in my blood.
"Who else has a Boss this considerate?" Selena's caption read. "I'd devote my life to the Family's prosperity! Can I sign a lifetime contract?"
Below her message, a flood of replies from the Family's soldiers and capos.
"I've never seen Don Valente like this. The stories about him being a cold perfectionist don't hold up here!"
"Look at those arms. I bet he could handle a lot more than just wiring."
"Selena, quit rubbing it in. We all know you're the future Lady of the Family!"
I clenched my phone so hard the case creaked beneath my fingers. She was weaving her web so skillfully, tying Dominic to her in every visible way. When I had been by his side, Dominic had done the same — posting little moments of us at the shooting range, walking through the vineyard at dusk, or sharing quiet laughter over espresso in the kitchen of the estate. Back then, it had felt like the bond between us was unshakable, forged in something deeper than arrangement or convenience. Now, I was just a shadow in his past, and Selena stood where I once had, basking in the glow of his attention.
I exited the chat and blocked the notifications. My decision to move forward felt right, even as a pang of loss clawed at the inside of my ribs. Shaking off the ache, I stepped into the quarters that had been my home for so long. Eight years — a lifetime in this world — was packed into this space. Memories clung to every corner, every scratch in the hardwood, every faint trace of cologne that still lingered in the curtains. But tonight, I would leave them behind.
A soft ache bloomed in my chest as I started packing my things, and my gaze landed on the large leather-bound book sitting on the coffee table. It was our album — a tradition Dominic had insisted on. Each photograph inside captured a moment from the years we'd spent together, his promise to give me 9,999 memories before making me his wife. He'd said he wanted me to choose him, not because of the arrangement between our Families, but because of his devotion.
The album was nearly full, with only one blank page left. But all those promises now felt hollow, shattered by the way he had drifted into Selena's arms. The old blood inside me stirred again — a mixture of sadness and anger that mirrored my own feelings, the Castellano instinct that knew when something was irreparably broken.
I picked up the album and carried it outside to the stone courtyard where the Family often gathered for celebrations. The moonlight illuminated the open space, casting long shadows across the flagstones as I crouched to build a small fire in the iron pit. When the flames took hold, I placed the album on the kindling and watched it burn, the edges curling and blackening, the leather cracking and splitting. Smoke rose into the night air, carrying away years of love, promises, and heartache.
Dominic arrived moments later. I sensed him before I saw him — the weight of his presence, the familiar scent of his cologne cutting through the woodsmoke, something sharp and expensive and uniquely his. He froze at the edge of the courtyard, his dark eyes locking on the burning album. Panic was instantly etched across his face as he sprinted forward.
"What are you doing?" he roared, his voice carrying the full force of a Don's command, the kind that made soldiers snap to attention and conversations die in crowded rooms.
I didn't flinch. His authority had lost its hold on me.
He lunged toward the fire, trying to pull the album out, but the flames were too fierce. He hissed as the heat seared his hands, the skin reddening instantly. Despite the pain, he stomped on the remains, trying to extinguish the blaze that consumed our past. Pages scattered like ash across the courtyard stones — fragments of photographs, half-burned smiles, moments that no longer meant anything.
"You're insane!" he shouted, turning on me, his dark eyes burning with a fury that would have made any soldier in his Family take a step back. "Do you even realize what you've done? Years of memories, gone! Why, Arianna? Why would you do this?"
I met his gaze, and something rose within me — that deep, ancestral certainty, the Castellano blood that had survived generations of men exactly like him. "Because memories don't mean anything if the promises tied to them are broken. You wanted to give me 9,999 reasons to choose you, but you let Selena take over before we even reached the end."
His jaw clenched, something dangerous flickering behind his expression. "You don't understand. Selena—"
"Selena," I interrupted, my voice steady as stone. "Has claimed what you've allowed her to. You think I don't see what she's doing? The photograph in the group chat, the comments, the way she clings to you — it's all calculated. And you let it happen."
He took a step closer, and the firelight caught the hard line of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders. His voice softened, dropping to something almost private. "Ellie, it's not what you think. She's part of the Family, and as the head of this organization, I have a responsibility to—"
"Don't." I raised a hand to stop him. The fire crackled between us, embers drifting upward into the dark. "Don't insult me by pretending this is just about Family business. You made your choice, Dominic. Now, I'm making mine."
