Gone Rose, Mafia’s Regret

For the past three years, to please his picky Sicilian mother, I’d cowered in the kitchen like a cheap maid, learning every complicated Sicilian dish.

But the food I poured my heart into only earned a single comment from his mother: "Not as good as the takeout Bianca orders."

"Just running some errands," I said faintly.

A flicker of strangeness passed through Enzo's mind.

The old me would never have spoken to him in such a cold tone. But he didn't think much of it, just following up with, "What errands?"

"Personal stuff."

I refused to leak my plan to leave him. I turned to walk away.

But Bianca grabbed me. "Elena, Enzo bought out a whole theater on Broadway. Come watch with us! It'd be a waste if you don't."

A simple sentence, but it made me freeze instantly.

I suddenly remembered hearing him on the phone in front of me, ordering his men to book the theater. Back then, I thought he was arranging it specifically for me. I was so excited I couldn't sleep all night.

Turns out, I was just flattering myself.

"Let's go, Elena!" Bianca linked her arm through mine affectionately.

I was dragged into the theater.

The whole show, Enzo's attention was entirely on Bianca.

He draped his suit jacket over her, covered her eyes when she was scared, and finished her champagne.

While I sat next to them, shivering from the cold, like I was invisible.

Walking out of the theater, Enzo said to me, "Brooklyn isn't safe at night. I'm going to drop Bianca off first..."

I didn't object at all. I just said, "Okay, you take her."

A flash of surprise appeared in Enzo's eyes; he seemed shocked I agreed so readily.

In the past, I would have definitely made a scene. But I was leaving soon; there was no point in arguing with him.

"Don't worry, I'll come back to pick you up." He left me with that sentence and hurried off with Bianca.

I didn't wait for him. I walked home alone, my heels rubbing bloody blisters onto my feet.

I had just taken out the ointment when my phone rang.

"Elena," Bianca's voice came through. "I'm so sorry to bother you this late. There was thunder just now, and I screamed. Enzo just refuses to leave... I tried to tell him to go pick you up, but he insisted you could make it back on your own."

"He's in the shower right now and can't come to the phone, so he asked me to let you know he won't be coming home tonight. Be careful on your way back."

She said she was passing a message for Enzo, but the smugness of being the favorite was practically dripping through the phone.

"Mm." I didn't want to talk, so I hung up.

The next morning, I started packing.

The expensive watches, ties, the scarf I knitted myself... I boxed them all up and gave them to the maids.

"Ma'am, this..." The maid hesitated.

"Take it," I smiled. "It's all trash anyway."

Just as I was handing them out, the front door was pushed open.

Enzo stood in the doorway in a black trench coat. Seeing the scene, his brows knitted together. "Elena, what the hell are you doing?"