Four Parting Gifts, Don Falcone

The line went silent.

I could hear muffled voices in Orion's office, the scrape of a chair. He was clearly in a meeting. My call had interrupted something important.

"Meeting's over," Orion’s voice cut through, low and commanding. "Everyone out."

Footsteps faded. A door closed. Now, it was just the two of us.

"Three years, Aurelia," Orion's voice went ice-cold. "Three years since you made an enemy of the Morettis to protect that bastard. And now you call? You only remember my name when the world is burning down around you?"

I closed my eyes, the memories flooding back.

We grew up together. Orion was always trailing behind me, a loyal knight protecting his princess. He even turned down Harvard Business School to follow me to the same university.

But all I wanted then was to escape my family, to escape a fate that had already been written for me. I fell for Vittorio, the man who made my heart race.

The night we graduated, Orion confessed his love.

"Aurelia, marry me. You know it's all I've ever wanted... I'm willing to—"

But I cut him off. I was ruthless.

"I will never marry you, Orion. Never."

I heard he drank himself blind that night. They said he walked the streets of Chicago until the sun came up.

"Yes," I admitted quietly, my voice flat. "I'm in trouble."

"Ha," Orion scoffed. "The Rossi princess finally admits she picked the wrong man?"

"I gambled on a stray and thought he was a king," I said, my voice hollow. "I was wrong."

The line was quiet for a few seconds. I could feel his shock. His… hurt?

"But…" I continued, a wave of exhaustion hitting me. "If you're not interested, just forget I said anything. The marriage proposal was just a crazy idea."

I moved to hang up.

"Don't you dare hang up on me," Orion's voice snapped, an order that left no room for argument. "Re-open our secure channels. All of them. Now."

I froze.

"Send me your location. In a month, I'll come get you myself." His voice softened, but the threat was still there. "Aurelia. You don't get to back out. Not this time."

He hung up.

I sat on the edge of the bed, the phone slipping from my fingers. I went to my vanity and opened the bottom drawer. Inside were the secret photos I'd taken of Vittorio, and the journals I'd filled while I was in love with him. Three years of one-sided love, three years of wishful thinking.

I took them all out and walked into the garden.

Flames ate the pictures, ate my foolish words. The orange glow was a funeral pyre for the girl I used to be.

"What are you burning?"

Vittorio's voice came from behind me.

I didn't turn around. "Some old letters."

"What kind of letters need to be burned?" He stepped closer, trying to see what was in the fire.

Just then, a woman's crying voice cut through the air.

"Vittorio!" Carina cried, rushing toward us with wide, tear-filled eyes. "I'm so sorry! It was an accident!"

Vittorio immediately forgot about me and rushed to Carina. "What happened?"

"I... I accidentally bumped into that painting," Carina sobbed, pointing to the stairwell. "The red wine spilled on it. It stained Aurelia's face. I really didn't mean to!"

My heart felt like it was being squeezed.

I painted that portrait myself. It took me three months. Since Vittorio refused to take wedding photos, it was the only way I could capture a memory of us together. It was the only thing in the entire house that proved our marriage was real.

"The painting... it's in such an awkward spot," Carina sobbed. "I tripped, and the wine... My ankle is already swelling."

I wanted to defend the painting, to say it had been there for three years without a problem.

But Vittorio was already lifting Carina into his arms.

"Shhh, it's okay. It's just a painting," he murmured, pulling her close. "Forget the painting. Is your ankle alright? We'll get a doctor."

He turned to one of his men standing nearby. "Burn it," he ordered the guard, his voice pure ice. "It's in the way."