He Married Her for a Game, So I Disappeared

The next day, I went to the Luccarelli office as usual.

No one would have guessed anything was wrong.

I spent the morning going over reports and signing papers, handing off my projects to Antonio one by one. The other employees whispered among themselves.

“Did she and Vincenzo fight again?”

“They always fight. They’ll make up by the end of the week. We all know they love each other!”

“Vincenzo’s probably just busy with that Seraphina girl. You know how he is.”

Antonio pulled me aside at lunch.

“Elena, are you sure about this? Vincenzo and his family will be furious if you cancel the engagement.”

“I’m not marrying him.”

Antonio sighed. “Alright. But take some time off, okay? You’ve been working too hard. The office will be here when you get back.”

That afternoon, a delivery arrived at the office: a dozen red roses and a black American Express card.

The note was in Vincenzo’s messy handwriting: “Stop being a brat. Come home when you’re done pouting.”

I handed the roses to my assistant. “Throw these away.”

I gave the card back to the delivery man. “Return this to sender.”

I knew Vincenzo would be furious when he got the card back. He would tell his men I would come crawling back when I realized I could not live without him.

That afternoon, Seraphina was loitering in the Luccarelli lobby.

When I walked out, she ran up to me, waving the marriage license.

Marco stepped between us immediately, blocking her path.

“Vincenzo says he’ll divorce me in a week,” Seraphina said, her voice sweet and poisonous. “But I think you should just give up. He loves me, not you. You’re just a business deal to him.”

I stared at the marriage license in her hand, a cold, heavy ache settled in my chest.

I knew Vincenzo had loved me once, but that was long gone. He had someone new now.

Seeing my blank expression, Seraphina’s irritation flared. She went on: “Oh, and you probably haven’t heard—I’m carrying Vincenzo’s baby.”

Those words hit me like a thunderbolt.

Of course. They had been fooling around for three years; a baby was inevitable.

That was probably why they had gotten married in the first place.

My face remained impassive.

“Okay, then, congratulations.”

I did not even look at her. I walked past her and got into the car. The Bentley pulled away, leaving her standing in the street, red-faced and furious.

That evening, my phone rang.

It was Vincenzo.

“I’m having a birthday party for you at the Long Island estate tonight,” he said, his voice still arrogant.

“All the family’s there. Don’t be late. Show up, apologize, and this whole thing is over.”

I hesitated.

It was my twenty-seventh birthday. We had been planning this party for months.

“Fine,” I said finally. “I’ll come.”

I did not go to apologize. I went to say goodbye.

To say goodbye to the seven years I had spent loving him.

The man who had risked everything to save me five years ago had died the day he met Seraphina three years prior.