The Don Chose Her, I Left

The year I turned 20, Vincenzo Romano, the Don of the Romano family, suddenly confessed his feelings for me beneath the August meteor shower. He said he'd secretly loved me for years. I looked at his jaw, clenched so tight it looked unnatural, and said yes. For five years, he spoiled me rotten. Whenever he came home from a trip abroad, he brought me a bouquet of pink myrtle. Whenever we made love, he kissed the tip of my ear and called me his "little princess." Then one day, I overheard his right-hand man, Dario Bassi, talking to him. "Are you really going to keep up the act with Enora? Didn't you only get with her back then to make Lyla jealous? "Lyla's divorced and back now. You can drop the act, can't you?" That night, I opened the locked drawer in his study. He'd once told me it held little reminders of our love. Instead, I found his keepsakes from Lyla Ferraro: a watch, emerald cufflinks, a sandalwood rosary... Each piece was engraved with their initials. There was also a stack of love poems in Latin, written in his own hand. They were passionate and lyrical, nothing like the calm face he showed the world. Every one of them was addressed to Lyla. Five years. Five years of lies, shattered in seconds. I quietly booked a train ticket to Geneva. In two days, I'd be out of Vincenzo's life forever. Chapter 1 I went over every detail of leaving the country with my assistant, Faith Moreau, then hung up. A place where nobody knew me. A new identity. At midnight the day after tomorrow, I'd vanish beyond the Romano family's reach. The lock clicked. Vincenzo came in with the cold still clinging to him and pulled me into his arms as naturally as ever. He smelled of whiskey. "Who were you on the phone with just now?" "A supplier for the lab." I set my phone face down on the table. "Just checking the inventory." He didn't ask anything else. He simply reached out, the way he always did, and pressed his warm palm to my cold cheek. "You spent too long in the cold storage room today. Your body can't handle it. Next time, don't do that work yourself." Then he tucked a bouquet of salmon-pink myrtle into my arms. "The day after tomorrow is our fifth anniversary. I've got a surprise ready for you." I looked down at the flowers. Their petals were bright and delicate, and their scent was light and sweet. For five years, he'd had fresh myrtle sent to me every week. I'd always thought he'd gone out of his way to learn what I liked. It had all been a cruel coincidence. Only yesterday, I'd found out that Lyla, the woman he'd grown up with and always loved but could never have, adored myrtle more than any other flower. Every thoughtful thing he'd done for me had been based on what another woman liked. I breathed in the sweet scent, and my stomach turned. I ran to the sink and threw up. My throat burned. "Enora!" Vincenzo frowned and covered my white-knuckled fingers with his rough palm. "Are you okay?" I looked into his dark, unreadable eyes, and for a moment I couldn't say anything. "Tomorrow night, the family is hosting a medical showcase on the south side." Vincenzo handed me a tissue, then gave his orders without even asking what I thought. "You don't need to go. Lyla just started as our medical advisor. She can take some of the load off you." There it was again. "Take some of the load off you." When Lyla first took the job, he'd talked me into handing over the encryption keys to my lab data. "I don't want you working this hard. Let Lyla handle the management side. Let her take some of the load off you." His thumb brushed my cheek, and his voice was sweet and coaxing. I couldn't resist. Later, when Lyla botched a partnership on a Swiss project, he sighed and asked me to step in and smooth it over. "Lyla just got back. She doesn't know how things work yet. If this gets fixed, she can take the project negotiations off your hands from now on." I couldn't bear to watch him wear himself out over it, his eyes red from several sleepless nights. I pressed my lips together and nodded. But this time, I wasn't going to go along with it. "I run the lab," I said, looking him in the eye. "I should be there." Vincenzo stopped. He came over and pulled my slipping cardigan closed at the collar to keep out the cold. "There'll be too many people, too many eyes. The family's young recruits and old guard will all be there." His voice dropped. "Don't you want a baby? Stay home and rest." I let out a short, humorless laugh. After five years of marriage, I'd put myself through hell trying to get my body ready for a baby, but he always made sure to use protection. I'd told myself the timing just wasn't right. I never imagined he simply didn't want a child with me. He probably just didn't want me there stealing Lyla's spotlight in front of the Romano family. "Fine." I smiled calmly and didn't argue anymore. Vincenzo's shoulders relaxed a little, and something I couldn't read flickered in his eyes. Maybe it was relief. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was regret. It lasted only a second. Then his calm mask returned, and he turned toward the liquor cabinet. The hem of his coat brushed the table, knocking the silver case he never let out of his sight onto the floor. The case hit the rug, and its lid popped open. An antique pocket watch rolled to my feet. Vincenzo had told me it belonged to a close friend who'd died in a shootout. That was why nobody was allowed to touch it. But now the watch he rubbed between his fingers day and night was lying at my feet. Curiosity got the better of me. I bent down and picked it up. The fall had knocked the cover partway open, revealing an engraving inside. It wasn't his friend's name. Just one line, carved in ornate Latin script. "To Vincenzo. We promised we'd be best friends for life. Yours, Lyla." I went rigid. So the so-called keepsake he treasured, the one he wouldn't even let me touch, was nothing but a friend-zone line Lyla had tossed him when she turned him down. He slept with it under his pillow and carried it with him all day. If I so much as reached for it, his expression darkened. Without a word, I closed the cover and put the watch back in its case. In that moment, whatever hope I still had for Vincenzo died for good. Chapter 2 The next evening, I changed into a black suit. Vincenzo sat on the living room couch. He frowned when he saw me coming down the stairs. "I thought we settled this last night." "I want to go. This is my field, after all." I looked him in the eye. I'd always been soft and agreeable with him, but this was the first time I'd stood my ground. "Let's go, Don." He stared at me for two seconds. In the end, he sighed and wrapped a camel-colored cashmere scarf around my neck. Its soft warmth settled over me. "Stay behind me. Don't wander off. Show your face and come home." The showcase was on the top floor of a private hospital owned by the Romano family. When we pushed through the double doors, the center of the room was already crowded with senior family members and the heads of every branch. In the middle of it all, Lyla stood in a white silk gown, smiling as everyone raised their glasses to her. "Ms. Ferraro beat a blood disorder, and the moment she's back, she brings the family a miracle like the R-7 clotting agent. Somebody up there is looking out for us!" "I hear this clotting agent cuts the fatality rate from gunshot wounds by 40 percent. Ms. Ferraro is the family's real savior." I stood at the edge of the crowd, watching lab data and reaction times scroll across the screen. Then I froze. Those were my lab records! The precise data I'd pulled countless all-nighters for, burning through more than 1,000 samples to get it right. And now the name signed at the bottom of the report was Lyla Ferraro. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. Only three people in the world knew about that data: me, Lyla, and Vincenzo. I stood rooted to the spot, my blood running cold. Lyla spotted Vincenzo in the crowd and came right over, glass in hand. She moved close as if it were the most natural thing in the world and hooked her arm through his, clutch still in hand. Her fingertips even brushed his chest. "Vincenzo, do you remember our high school dance? You wore a black suit just like this one. You never left my side. You kept everyone else away from me." Lyla tipped back her head and smiled sweetly. They had an easy closeness that only years together could build. Seeing them so at home with each other, I felt the sting of being completely shut out. Vincenzo didn't return the gesture, but he didn't pull away, either. Then Lyla looked past Vincenzo, and her eyes landed on me. "Enora, I'm so glad you came." She hugged me, smiling warmly, but kept her voice low so only I could hear. "Thanks for those old notes you left lying around the house. When Vincenzo brought them to me yesterday, I told him it wasn't really fair to you, but he couldn't bear the thought of me staying up all night... And look how well it worked out." My fingers curled at my sides, and I opened my mouth to speak. But Lyla suddenly grabbed my arm and threw herself backward. Her glass hit the floor and shattered, and she landed on the shards. Her palm was sliced open and bleeding. "Lyla!" Vincenzo's voice tightened. He stepped forward almost on instinct and scooped her into his arms. Bodyguards and doctors rushed over. Holding Lyla, Vincenzo turned toward me. Without thinking, he put his broad frame between us, keeping the guards from crashing into me. But the look he shot me was sharp, full of blame and anger. "Why did you push her? Her blood doesn't clot right. Any bleeding at all is dangerous for her." The room fell silent. Everyone just watched the scene unfold. Nobody dared provoke the Don of the Romano family. "That clotting agent formula is mine," I said, looking at Vincenzo, my voice shaking with anger. "My lab. My research. My work." Vincenzo frowned. He didn't bother hiding his impatience or confusion. "What are you talking about? Lyla's medical team in Switzerland has been working on this project for a year. That's why it succeeded. It's her work." Hers? The key catalyst in R-7 was something I'd extracted from a rare plant to work with Vincenzo's unusual body chemistry. I'd stayed up countless nights searching for that ingredient, all so the drug could save his life if he ever needed it. No team in the world would have thought to add it except mine. She's stolen all my hard work, and Vincenzo's defending her like I'm the one being unreasonable? "It's mine. And I'll prove it." My lips trembled, but I kept my chin up. I wasn't backing down. He just frowned, staring at me, and shook his head in exasperation. "Enora, as my wife, you don't need credit for this. Don't make a scene right now." His words cut deep. He'd seen how many nights I'd stayed up working on that drug, from midnight until dawn, until my eyes burned, and I'd never once complained. And now his accusation left me hurt and bitterly disappointed. I stopped trying to explain. I just fought back the tears. As they rushed Lyla off for treatment, I took out my phone and called Faith. "Can you come get me? I want to leave." "Leave for where?" Vincenzo's rough voice came from right behind me. Chapter 3 I spun around. Vincenzo stared at me with dark eyes, as if I were his prey. "Nowhere," I said, forcing myself to look calm as I shoved my phone into my pocket. "I just don't want to be here anymore." He nodded and pressed his palm to my cheek. "Then come with me to see her. Enora, don't even think about leaving me." His eyes bored into mine. His words left no room for argument. Afraid he'd get suspicious, I nodded and followed him to the ward. In the hospital hallway, he took my hand the way he always did when we said goodbye. "The party's over. Dario will be waiting for you in the car." His voice softened, as if he were trying to make up for something, and he smoothed the hair at my temple. "Go straight to the safe house on the south side and wait for me there. Your anniversary surprise is there." Just then, the door to Lyla's room swung open, and her personal maid hurried out. "Don, Ms. Ferraro's heart rate is unstable. She's scared. She keeps calling your name." Vincenzo's hand froze. He took a step toward the door almost without thinking, then stopped and looked back at me. I forced a calm smile. "Go on in." He pressed a hot kiss to my forehead, gave me a long look, and strode into the room. "Don't overthink it. I'll be right back." The door closed in my face, shutting out the faint sobbing inside. I didn't go downstairs to the car. I went to the restroom at the end of the hall and took out my phone. Lyla had just posted something new on her private Instagram. "Whenever I need him, he drops everything to be by my side. Just like when we were kids." The photo showed a man's strong, long-fingered hand tucking in her blanket. On his ring finger was the black onyx ring that symbolized the Romano family's power. It was Vincenzo's hand. Then a call came in. It was Lyla. I gave a bitter smile and turned on my phone's recorder. The second I answered, Lyla's bright voice came through. "Enora, Vincenzo just went to get me some water." She didn't bother hiding how pleased she was with herself. "You think five years by his side actually made you the lady of the Romano family? You're just a tool who makes drugs for free. "You can't keep his heart, and now even your work belongs to me. Getting all of this was so easy." I didn't say anything, but she wasn't done. "You know what? We were supposed to get married. But the family insisted he marry for an alliance. What I don't understand is, if it had to be an arranged marriage, why did he marry you?" Her sweet voice was laced with poison. "If you could do it, why couldn't I?" Before I could make sense of it, I heard footsteps on her end, then Vincenzo's low voice. "Lyla, who are you talking to?" "Just a sales call." Lyla laughed softly and hung up. I watched the screen go dark. Then I uploaded the recording to an encrypted cloud folder, wiped every contact, photo, and message from the phone, and threw it away. Every lie. Every fake promise. Every sweet, hollow memory. Let them all disappear forever. Then I gripped the small encrypted communicator and hit send. An automated program started. In half an hour, an encrypted email containing the complete R-7 development records and their timestamps would reach every member of the Romano family council. The full recording of that phone call would go with it. I walked out the back door of the hospital. The wind was bitter. A black sedan with no license plates was already waiting in the shadows. "Is everything set?" I opened the door. "The route to the train station is clear." Faith turned to look me over and lowered her voice. "We won't leave a trace." "Then let's go." The car drove into the dark, toward a life without Vincenzo Romano.