Chapter 3

Alessia

Matteo did not come home that night.

Near midnight, my phone lit with a social media notification. He had reposted one of Serena's photographs: two shadows leaning close beneath a streetlamp.

The caption read, The person who truly cares for you will still be there when you turn around.

I tapped the heart icon.

The post vanished less than a minute later.

I unfollowed him and slept better than I had in weeks.

When my friends learned I was returning to Sicily, Claire cried so hard that I had to promise she could visit whenever she wanted. They arranged a farewell dinner at a private club in Midtown, one last noisy evening before I left New York.

I was on my way back from the restroom when Serena stepped into my path.

"What a coincidence," she said. "I didn't know you came here."

I offered a polite smile and moved to pass her.

She shifted with me.

"You don't like me, Alessia. Why?"

"I don't know you well enough to dislike you."

Her smile sharpened. "Ever wonder why Matteo drinks his whiskey with a slice of lemon?"

I said nothing.

"I got him into that. Five years with the guy, and you still don't know which parts of him actually belong to me."

Matteo had once told me the lemon made the whiskey cleaner. I had believed it was merely one of his preferences.

Now another small piece of our life tilted under my feet.

Serena watched my face with open pleasure. "He never made you public. All I have to do is call, and he chooses me. What do you think that means?"

The answer no longer mattered.

I stepped aside. "Then I wish you both happiness."

Her smile slipped.

She was waiting for me to scream, to cry, to prove I was still fighting for him. Instead, I just walked right past her.

Back in the private suite, I swallowed a shot of tequila and let the burn chase the chill from my hands. Claire was trying to start a card game when the heavy door slammed open.

The music cut off.

Matteo entered with four bodyguards behind him. His face was colder than I had ever seen it.

He crossed the room and closed one hand around my wrist.

"Who the hell did you send after Serena?!" he demanded.

Pain shot up my arm. "What man?"

"Let go of her!" Claire lunged forward.

Two guards blocked her and forced my other friends back onto the sofas. The room went silent except for Claire's furious breathing.

Matteo's grip tightened. "A man cornered Serena outside the restroom. He hit her and tore at her clothes."

I stared at him.

"She told you I arranged it?"

"You were angry that I left you at the hospital. I spent two days taking care of her instead of coming home." Disappointment darkened his eyes, as if I were the one who had betrayed him. "How could you do something so cruel?"

The man who had slept beside me for five years did not ask whether I had done it.

He asked how I could.

My eyes watered from the pressure on my wrist. His fingers loosened slightly when he noticed.

Then Serena called.

Her sobs spilled from his phone. She said she was frightened and did not want to be alone.

At the sound of her voice, any hesitation vanished from his face as he yanked me toward the door.

"Matteo, stop！"

He did not.

Claire shouted my name. I looked back and shook my head before she could make the guards hurt her.

"I'll be all right."

Matteo dragged me down the corridor to another private room.

Serena sat curled on a sofa in his suit jacket. Faint red marks streaked one cheek and disappeared beneath the torn collar of her dress. When she saw me, she flinched as if I had arrived with a weapon.

Matteo pushed me forward.

My knee struck the corner of the coffee table. I caught myself before I fell.

"Apologize to her! Now!" he ordered, pointing a finger at me. "Just look at her—she's completely terrified!"

Serena lowered her lashes, hiding the triumph in her eyes.