Chapter 3

3

After I confirmed, the system gave me one date.

Fifteen days later.

For the next half month, Dante barely came home. He only sent a few messages, saying the club was busy, the port had problems, and I should behave.

I saw him on Isabella’s private account.

At underground races, he buckled her helmet. At an auction, he bought her a sapphire. At a port dinner, he blocked drinks for her himself.

The worst one was a breakfast photo.

Beside a ruined fried egg, the caption said, Princess said I should learn.

I remembered the time my stomach hurt and I asked him for a glass of warm water. He did not even look up.

“Ava, don’t make me think you’re a burden.”

So burden and cute depended on the person.

I did not expose him.

In those two weeks, I finished my passport, license verification, insurance, and will. I also sorted Dante’s things into three groups. Things to return went into paper bags. Things to burn went into a metal box. Things to delete were left for last.

Dr. Ward’s list was long. Vaccine records, emergency contact, confirmation that no family would travel with me. I stopped for a long time at the emergency contact line, then wrote down the name of the Moretti family lawyer.

Sometimes I came back to the apartment after midnight and saw the entry light still on. I used to leave it on for Dante because I was afraid the place would be too dark when he came home.

Now the light was still on, but he would not come back.

The day before I left was my birthday. It was also my third anniversary with Dante.

At six in the evening, I sent him a message.

[Do you remember what today is?]

He replied right away.

[Your birthday. Our anniversary. I’ll be home, baby.]

I looked at the word baby and smiled.

That night, I made dinner. Steak, mushroom soup, and a birthday cake. All of them were things Dante once said he liked.

I had not celebrated my birthday in years. The Moretti family did not believe in wishes. They believed in leverage and guns. But that year, Dante had said, Ava, I’ll spend every birthday with you from now on.

I believed him, so I bought a lot of candles.

I set two places at the table. The wine was breathing beside the plates. I even pulled out his usual chair a little, as if he would walk in at any second and laugh at me for being too formal.

The clock passed eleven.

Then twelve.

The living room was left with the smell of candles burning down.

Dante did not come home.

At twelve thirteen, my phone lit up.

It was not Dante. It was a friend request from Isabella.

I accepted it.

She sent a row of laughing faces first.

[Still awake? I thought a good doctor girl didn’t wait for anyone.]

Then the photos came one after another.

In a private club, Dante put a necklace on Isabella. When she got cold, he draped his coat over her shoulders. In the last photo, he bent down and kissed the back of her hand with a tenderness I had never seen.

Isabella sent another message.

[Don’t misunderstand. I only wanted you to see what he looks like when he really cares about someone.]

[You’ve probably never seen it, right? When he clasped my necklace, he was afraid to press too hard.]

[He said you can endure anything, so I thought you could endure the truth too.]

Then came a video.

The camera shook badly. It only caught a loose tie, unfinished wine, red light on the wall, and Isabella’s lazy laugh.

She asked, “Ava and me. Who taught you better?”

After a short silence, Dante’s voice came through, low and careless.

“Ava was practice. You’re the prize.”

After the video ended, Isabella’s messages appeared again.

[Thank you for training him so well for me.]

[Dante just fell asleep. I guess he won’t have time to be with you.]

A few seconds later, she sent a screenshot.

It was the chat screen on Dante’s phone.

My message was there.

Do you remember what today is?

Under it was that warm reply.

Your birthday. Our anniversary. I’ll be home, baby.

Then Isabella sent a voice message.

Her voice was sweet, with a smile in it.

“Oh, right. You didn’t really think Dante sent that, did you?”

“He only mentioned it while drinking. He said today seemed to be your birthday.”

“I felt sorry for you, so I replied for him.”

She sighed softly, like she was complaining about something small.

“Dante has such a bad memory.”

“See? Even I remember your birthday better than he does.”

When those words ended, I looked at the candle that was almost burned out on the table and understood.

The promise I had waited for all night had not even been a lie from Dante’s own mouth.