That choice hadn’t been born overnight. Accepting a bond marriage with a neighboring family—a strategic alliance between syndicates—meant wiping the slate clean. A new city. A new name spoken with respect, not secrecy. Still, I’d hesitated. A foolish part of me had waited, hoping Rocco would give me a reason to stay. One word. One action. Proof that I mattered.
Instead, he walked away without looking back—choosing Antonella as if I’d never existed at all.
That night, I found a battered cardboard box and began the slow, painful work of dismantling seven years of shared life. I folded away the custom slippers stitched with a moon-and-star emblem he’d once claimed symbolized us. I packed the matching mugs that fit perfectly in our hands, the discreet tracking charms that buzzed softly whenever we were close. He’d said they were to keep me safe—to remind me he was always near.
Back then, I’d believed him.
Those objects had once made me feel untouchable. Secure. As if nothing—not rival families, not bullets, not betrayal—could sever what we had. Now they were nothing more than props from a story that had never been real.