He Married Her for a Game, So I Disappeared

The room went dead quiet.

Seraphina’s smile froze on her face, and she clung tighter to Vincenzo’s arm.

Vincenzo stood up abruptly, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the study.

“We need to talk. Now.”

I pulled my arm free.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m packing my things. I’ll be gone by tonight.”

“Are you serious?” Vincenzo’s voice dropped to a dangerous growl, the tone he used with men who betrayed him and ended up at the bottom of the Hudson.

“I’m giving you one week to calm down. One week. Then I’ll divorce her, and we’ll get married like we planned one month later. Don’t push me.”

I said nothing.

I turned and walked into the bedroom, locking the door behind me.

Outside, Vincenzo banged on the door so hard the wood shook.

“Elena! Open this door! You’re making a fool of yourself in front of my men!”

Seraphina’s soft voice drifted through the wood, sweet as poison.

“Vincenzo, don’t yell at her. It’s my fault. I should’ve never made you play the game. I’ll leave, okay? I don’t want to cause trouble between you two.”

I ignored them all. I opened my closet and took out a suitcase.

I packed only my most essential things: a few changes of clothes, my mother’s pearl necklace, the Luccarelli family ring I wore around my neck, and the gun I kept hidden in my nightstand.

I walked past the bookshelf and paused, my fingers brushing the spine of an old copy of The Godfather.

It was the first thing Vincenzo had ever given me since three years ago, thrown at my head after a particularly tense meeting.

“Read this,” he’d said. “You need to learn how this world works.” I’d read it three times. I left it on the shelf.

Thirty minutes later, I dragged the suitcase out of the bedroom.

Vincenzo was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, a smirk on his face like he’d already won.

“There. You finally came to your senses. Go apologize to Seraphina, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

I walked past him without a glance.

“Elena!” he shouted, his voice cracking with anger. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I did not answer. I walked out the front door, and Marco closed it behind me, cutting off the sound of his yelling.

In the car, I pulled out my phone.

I deleted all of Vincenzo’s texts.

Three years’ worth, all of them short and demanding.

Bring me a coffee.

Meet me at the warehouse.

Seraphina needs a ride.

I blocked his number, scrubbed every trace of him from my devices, and deleted all our photos.

Then I called Antonio, my second-in-command at the Luccarelli New York office.

“I’m returning to Sicily tomorrow,” I said. “Have all my work transferred to you by the end of the day.”

“Miss Elena?” Antonio sounded surprised. “Is everything alright? Did something happen with the Ferraros?”

“Our engagement is off,” I said simply. “That’s all you need to know.”

I hung up and looked out the window at the New York skyline.

“Marco,” I said. “Book the private jet to Palermo. We leave as soon as I finish my business. Use the family’s private airstrip. No flight plans, no records. I don’t want anyone to know I’m leaving.”

“Yes, Miss.”

Back at the apartment, I knew Vincenzo was watching my car drive away.

I could almost hear him kick the coffee table, sending beer bottles crashing to the floor.

He would mutter.

“She’ll be back by tomorrow. She always is.”

And Seraphina would wrap her arms around his waist, and he would forget all about me.