[Elena, please stop being so sensitive and antagonizing Adriana. You two are going to be seeing a lot of each other. I hope you'll get along from now on.]
I let out a quiet breath.
So that was it.
That was his solution.
A box of burn cream in exchange for silence.
For obedience.
For pretending nothing had happened.
For accepting that he would keep both of us in his life, as if we were things he could arrange however he pleased.
I didn't reply.
I applied the ointment silently, the coolness stinging slightly against the burned skin, then lay down in bed. Through the wall I could hear the faint tick of the security panel cycling through its nightly check. The apartment was built for the Don's convenience, wired for his safety. Not for mine.
He didn't come home that night.
The next morning, the moment I stepped into the front office of the Bellomo club, I could feel it.
The change.
Eyes followed me everywhere I went. Conversations cut off the second I got close, only to resume in hushed whispers the moment I passed. The hostesses. The floor runners. Even the bartender who usually nodded good morning wouldn't look at me.
It felt like walking into a hive that had been violently shaken.
As I sat down at my desk, Gianna leaned over almost immediately, the corner of her order pad curling between her fingers as she twisted it tight.
"Elena… people are saying you tried to get with the Boss," she whispered. "And his woman caught you in the act. It's all over the group chats."
She slid her phone toward me.
A video was playing.
The restaurant scene from last night.
Someone had recorded everything.
At some point during the chaos, a new group chat had been created just to spread it. Message after message scrolled past—speculation, accusations, mockery. Whispers on the floor made permanent with screenshots.
They painted me as someone who tried to sleep her way into the Family's good graces and got exposed.
I stared at the screen, my expression calm, even as something inside me went completely still.
Before I could process it further, the front doors opened.
Salvatore walked in.
With Adriana right beside him.
The silver lighter was moving across his knuckles in that slow, idle rhythm, catching the overhead light once, twice.
"Everyone," he said, his voice clear and authoritative, "let me introduce our new front-operation overseer. Adriana."
So that was what he meant.
When he said we would be seeing a lot of each other.
He hadn't been exaggerating.
He had brought her directly into the Family's front operation.
As my superior.
The room fell silent.
Every pair of eyes turned toward me.
For the past few weeks, ever since the previous overseer severed ties and disappeared upstate, I had been the one handling most of the responsibilities. Everyone assumed I would move up in the ranks.
It seemed obvious.
Until now.
Salvatore added Adriana to the internal chat right there in front of everyone. Almost immediately, both of them sent messages.
Their profile pictures appeared side by side.
Matching.
A couple photo.
Smiling.
Perfect.
The implication couldn't have been clearer.
The rest of the morning passed in a haze of whispers and distracted glances. No one was really working. Everyone was watching.
Talking.
Judging.
But I didn't care anymore.
I was leaving.
Before lunch, I drafted my letter severing ties and sent it through the proper channels.
With nothing left tying me here, I stood up and walked to the back room.
I needed something warm. Something simple.
I made myself a cup of honey grapefruit tea, watching the steam rise slowly, the scent soft and calming. Sweet. Light. Nothing like the bitterness I had just left behind.
I had barely taken two sips when the door opened again.
Adriana walked in like she owned the place.
Confident. Unhurried.
She made herself a coffee, then walked over and sat down right beside me, crossing her legs elegantly as if she were settling into a throne that had always been hers.
Her presence filled the room.
Her voice, when she spoke, was smooth and sweet, but underneath it, there was something sharp.
"Elena," she said, her lips curving slightly, "I know you've been Salvatore's little secret for five years."
She tilted her head, studying me.
"But I'm his public donna now."
There was a pause.
"I'm back," she continued softly, "and it's time for the mistress to know when to leave."
Her smile didn't waver.
"As long as you keep your mouth shut like you always have," she added lightly, "I won't make things harder for you."
The threat was gentle.
Polite.
But unmistakable.
As she spoke, Adriana casually unlocked her phone and tapped on a voice message, holding it just close enough for me to hear.
The recording played.
It was the little boy from yesterday.
His voice was bright, sweet in that practiced, childish way, but there was something smug underneath it, something that didn't belong to innocence at all.
"Auntie Adriana, wasn't I awesome? Don't forget the Transformers toy you promised me!"
The message ended with a soft click.
And just like that, everything fell into place.
Every detail. Every movement. Every perfectly timed reaction from last night.
It hadn't been an accident.
None of it had.
