Chapter 6

My body went rigid for a split second, then relaxed.

"Weren't you the one who said you'd take me to see the Northern Lights?" I turned around and calmly straightened the mess of clothes in my suitcase. "The airline called to confirm the itinerary. That's all."

Casper blinked. Beneath his bandage, the wound was seeping a pale pinkish red. One side of his face bore a raw scrape, and the bruise beneath the skin was already deepening to purple.

"I was in the hospital for days," he said, his gaze locked on me. "You never came. Never picked up the phone."

"Lost my phone." I folded a jacket and pressed it into the case. "I'm getting a replacement SIM."

He stood there, one hand braced against the doorframe, not moving.

I knew what he was waiting for — for me to rush over the way I always had, to peel back his bandage with trembling fingers and inspect the wound, eyes rimming red as I asked if it hurt.

For him, I'd chosen pre-med, all because I couldn't stand feeling helpless when he was injured.

For him, I'd taken drink after drink at family banquets, deflecting toasts on his behalf until my stomach cramped, never uttering a word of complaint.

I would have thrown myself in front of a loaded gun for him without a moment's hesitation.

Casper had once been willing to risk his life for me, and what I'd given him was never any less.

But all of that was when he still loved me. Now that his heart belonged to someone else, I intended to take back every last piece of it.

"You're not even going to ask?" A faint note of probing crept into his voice. "Don't you care where I'm hurt?"

"You've always complained I was too controlling, haven't you?" I looked up at him. "I've thought it through. What you don't want to tell me, I won't ask. What you're not willing to give, I won't ask for anymore. You wanted space — consider it yours."

His pupils contracted sharply.

Every one of those words had originally come from him. I was simply giving them back.

Silence settled over the bedroom like sediment. He walked to the window and stood with his back to me for a long time before finally steering the conversation elsewhere, his tone stiff.

"Your birthday was almost two months ago. I was busy at the time — didn't have a chance to celebrate with you. The auction house just got in a new collection of jewelry. I'll take you to pick something out. Consider it a belated gift."

I was about to refuse, but he didn't give me the chance.

The auction house glittered with crystal chandeliers, and the room was full of familiar faces from Chicago's upper circles. Casper sat beside me, never once flipping through the catalog, raising his paddle again and again.

"Three million."

"Five million."

"Eight million."

He didn't hesitate on a single bid, as though he were signing some trivial document. By the end of the evening, he'd swept up nearly every top lot. Each time the hammer fell, he turned his head to glance at me.

I knew what he was hoping for — the old Veronica would have leaned against his shoulder with a smile and whispered, "That's too much," and he would have pulled me closer by the waist and replied, "Money spent on you doesn't count."

But that Veronica was gone.

Whispers from the crowd needled their way into my ears.

"The Scarfaros — what a power couple. Who in all of Chicago wouldn't be jealous?"

"Didn't the Don cause that whole wedding-crashing scene a while back? They look so in love again now."

"Men, you know how it is. Everyone has their wild phase. In the end, they always figure out who really matters."

Those murmurs were like fine needles, pricking into my skin one by one. I thought of that forged marriage certificate, and a bitter taste rose at the back of my tongue.

After the auction, Casper stepped away to take a call.

A staff member handed me several heavy jewelry cases. I was heading toward the exit when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught the half-open door of the VIP lounge at the end of the corridor.

Cecilia's voice carried out, thin and aggrieved: "You told me you were working overtime, and instead you brought her to an auction?"

Casper sighed and reached out to wipe away her tears. "It's just a belated birthday gift." His tone was gentle. "Have I ever denied you anything you wanted?"

"That necklace you bid on for her — that was the one I had my eye on!" She pouted, tugging at his sleeve and refusing to let go. "I'm not happy, Casper."

"That was my fault." His voice softened further. "Whatever you want, it's yours."

"The Colombian emerald earrings."

"Done."

"And the nineteenth-century ruby ring."

"All yours."

I looked down at the heavy gift boxes in my hands.

Cecilia threw a little tantrum, and he fell over himself to appease her with bottomless patience. But the moment I so much as asked where he'd been, I was "overbearing" and "unreasonable."

It wasn't that I had changed. It was that he'd stopped loving me — and so everything I did became an irritation.

I set every last gift box on the lobby reception desk and walked out without looking back.

…

Back at the estate, a fever crashed over me like a tidal wave.

For the next few days, I was bedridden. Consciousness drifted in and out, and in my dreams there was always a sixteen-year-old boy sitting at my bedside. He coaxed me softly to take my medicine, checked my temperature, dabbed at the sweat on my forehead with a damp cloth.

I opened my eyes to an empty room. On the floor, there was nothing but a single empty glass and a few scattered pills.

My throat felt like it was on fire. I staggered toward the staircase. The moment I took the first step, everything went black and my foot met nothing but air.

My back struck the stairs, and I tumbled down step by step. The wound on my forehead split open again, and blood ran down my cheek, soaking into my collar.

I came to rest at the bottom of the staircase, my face pressed against the cold marble floor.

Everything in my vision was red.

Miranda, the housekeeper, screamed when she found me. She called for an ambulance with one hand and dialed Casper with the other.

"The number you have dialed is temporarily unavailable…"

Thirty-seven times. Exactly like before.

I gripped her wrist with what little strength I had. "Stop calling. He's not going to answer."

Her tears fell onto the back of my hand. She had watched me grow up since I was a child; she knew better than anyone how much Casper had once cared about me.

"The Don must be tied up with something he can't get away from… Miss, do you remember? That time you nicked your finger, he brought the best surgeon in the city to the estate. Every time you felt even a little unwell, he'd walk out of a family council meeting just to come check on you…"

I closed my eyes. Yes, I remembered all of it. But that Casper was dead.

After I was discharged, my phone screen lit up. A string of messages from Cecilia:

"Veronica, you really are pathetic. Your marriage certificate with Casper is fake — he never intended to actually marry you."

"You've always thought I was the homewrecker? Casper already agreed to marry me. Tomorrow, he's going to send you away under the pretense of a trip, and then take me to the Cook County Clerk's Office for our ceremony. From now on, I'm the Donna of the Scarfaro family. And you? You're nothing."

I read every last word, then turned my phone face-down on the nightstand.

I got up, called a car, and went to the hospital where I'd had the procedure.

"I'm here to pick up the frozen embryo I stored previously."

The nurse recognized me. With a complicated look in her eyes, she handed over the preservation container. I found a courier service and gave them detailed instructions — tomorrow morning, ten o'clock, in front of the Cook County Clerk's Office, hand-delivered to Mr. Casper Scarfaro.

By the time I returned to the estate, Casper was already sitting in the living room. The coffee table was piled with gift boxes of every size.

He stood when he saw me.

"Veronica, things have come up with the family that I can't get away from. Go to Norway on your own first — I've arranged everything. Someone will accompany you the entire time. I'll fly out to meet you as soon as I'm done. Alright?"

"Alright."

That single word visibly stunned him. Every argument he'd prepared jammed in his throat.

He opened his mouth, about to say something more, when his phone buzzed. He glanced down, his expression shifted, and he immediately grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

"Wait for me."

The door closed softly, but to my ears, it sounded like a verdict finally being handed down.

I turned around and began to pack.

The suitcase was small. A few changes of clothes, my documents. Everything he'd ever given me inside the estate, I left exactly where it was. I didn't need a single thing that could remind me of this place.

I asked Miranda to leave the package for the courier by the front hall tomorrow morning. She didn't know what was inside — she just nodded, her eyes rimmed red.

I took out my phone and sent Casper one last message:

"I've prepared a gift for you. Don't forget to pick it up."

Then I powered off the phone, picked up my suitcase, and walked out of the estate that had been nothing more than a gilded cage.

The night air was cool. A taxi carried me toward O'Hare Airport. Chicago's skyline receded inch by inch outside the window — the lights I'd known so well shrank one by one, blurring, then vanishing.

I didn't look back.

The moment the cabin door sealed shut, I closed my eyes. The seatbelt clasp pressed cold against my lower abdomen — the place where there had once been a life I'd so looked forward to.

And tomorrow, Casper Scarfaro would be standing in front of the Cook County Clerk's Office, opening the last gift I'd ever leave him.