The End of a Hidden Love Story

"Do you still think you're the victim?" Declan spat.

He let out a cold laugh before clamping a hand over my mouth. Without another word, he dragged me out of the office like I was nothing but roadkill.

His grip was iron-tight, and his palm was pressed so hard against my mouth that it felt like he was trying to smother me.

Even as I was dragged out, I heard Beatrice's voice coming from the office. "Let it go. Maybe Scarlett didn't mean it."

Then, she chirped, "I've got the afternoon free. How about I treat everyone to coffee?"

Declan's face clouded over as he dragged me into the pantry.

"Scarlett, if you didn't want me to get engaged with Beatrice, you could've just said so," he said, resignation in his voice.

"You agreed to it. Then, you threw a fit, quit your job, and stole her necklace. What are you trying to pull? My parents love Beatrice. They agreed to let us marry, but only after I married her.

"She only has a couple of months left to live. Once she's gone, they'll give us their blessing. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to burden you.

"All these years, I never made our relationship public because my parents said if I stayed with you, I'd lose my chance to become the next head of the mafia.

"Our relationship has been under wraps for so long, and now, we're finally this close to going public. Yet, here you are, acting out again!"

Declan stared at me, furious. He made it sound like I was the one backing out and didn't want to marry him.

"Apologize to Beatrice, and we'll call it even," he added.

I kept my hand over my mouth and stared at him coldly. "I'm not confessing to something I didn't do."

We had been together for years, and every time I brought up going public, he'd give me the same excuse.

We had to wait until he became the mafia don, but after all this time, I was tired.

At that moment, Beatrice walked in with a cup of water. Stopping in front of me, she said, "Scarlett, don't blame Declan. He's just worried about me and got a little flustered. I don't blame you, so don't take it to heart.

"Here, have some water. It might help you calm down."

As she held it out, she pretended to lose her grip. The water spilled directly onto my arm, causing me to cry out in pain.

Beatrice, however, suddenly grabbed her hand and screamed, "My hand's been scalded!"

Declan's focus was on me. However, the moment he heard her cries, he rushed over and dragged her aside to rinse her hand, completely ignoring the red blisters on my arm.

I watched them walk away, and all I felt was a hollow ache in my chest.

…

Declan didn't come looking for me until later that afternoon. He glanced at my arm, his guilt written all over his face.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I nodded and didn't answer.

He let out a sigh, then continued, "You overreacted today. Beatrice must not know we're together. She doesn't want to be seen as the other woman, so I have to keep my distance from you whenever she's around.

"She already mentioned that she'll let today's matter slide. Can't you do the same? Why did you have to blow it out of proportion?"

He held out an ice pack, ready to place it on my arm. Yet, when I looked at him, all I felt was disappointment.

I swatted his hand away and swept everything from my desk into the trash.

Then, I headed straight for the security room. If I could get the surveillance footage, I could prove I hadn't done anything.

However, just as I reached the door, a security guard stepped in front of me, saying, "Ms. Fletcher, Mr. Gibson gave orders. You're not allowed inside."

I froze, a wave of numbness washing over me.

…

Back at the residence, I continued packing. Since everything reminded me of Declan, I wanted none of it.

Someone dropped off a burn ointment that night itself. I knew immediately that it was from Declan. Yet, without giving it another look, I tossed it aside and went back to packing.

…

On the way to the airport, I sent a message to Declan's work number. It read, "Declan Gibson, we're done."

Right after hitting send, I blocked him on all methods of communication.