The Principessa and the Shattered Bottle

I bloomed early.

The year I turned eighteen, my overprotective brother, Ronan, worried I would be preyed upon by the wolves in a city like Chicago. So, he entrusted me to his most trusted ally—Sterling Valeriano, the Underboss of the Valeriano family—to "look after" me.

But from our first meeting, his predatory gaze left me feeling completely exposed.

After I graduated from college, he pushed me to cross one line after another.

By day, he was my boss at the art gallery. By night, I was his secret lover.

For four years, we kept our illicit relationship hidden.

He molded me into the woman he desired, and the worst part? I let him.

One day, his former fiancée, Scarlett, returned from Europe. He slipped out of my bed in the middle of the night to rush to the docks to meet her.

Ashamed and furious, yet unwilling to give up, I followed him, only to watch him tenderly kiss another woman under the moonlight.

He turned to me and said, "Juliana Callahan, four years ago, you were the one who climbed into my bed while I was drunk. The way you look right now... it's truly pathetic."

The same eyes that held such tenderness for her now held only mockery for me.

I suddenly realized he was right. None of this had any meaning.

So I lowered my head, sent a text to Ronan telling him I accepted the marriage alliance with the Hawthorne family, then looked up at that man and smiled.

"So be it. Goodbye, Sterling."

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1

It wasn't long before my brother, Ronan Callahan, called.

I could hear the relief in his voice, even through the phone. He must have thought I’d finally moved on from the man I’d loved for years.

What he didn't know was that the man I was madly in love with… was his most trusted ally, Sterling Valeriano.

After hanging up, I picked up the resignation letter I had prepared long ago and headed to the HR department. However, the process hit a snag at the final step.

"Miss Callahan, for an immediate resignation, you'll need Mr. Valeriano's personal signature for approval."

Sterling again. Even at the very last moment, I couldn't escape him.

I clutched my phone, walked to the end of the empty hallway, and dialed the number I knew by heart.

It rang and rang. Just as I was about to give up, the call connected. A woman’s voice—one I didn’t recognize—answered.

"Hello? Looking for Sterling? He's busy..."

Busy...

The word was a thousand needles in my chest. Despite this, my voice remained calm, almost unnaturally so.

"Never mind, thank you."

I hung up before she could say anything else. The dark screen reflected my pale face.

Less than two minutes later, my phone buzzed insistently. I stared at Sterling's name on the screen for a few seconds before answering.

"What is it?"

His tone was all business, cold and distant. And just last night, this same man had been on top of me, intimately calling my name over and over again.

My knuckles turned white as I gripped the resignation letter.

"Mr. Valeriano, there's a document that needs your signature to complete my resignation."

He let out a low "Mm," then added as if it were an afterthought, "Oh, right. Move out of the penthouse. Immediately. Pack up your things. Scarlett is moving in."

"There's a vacant property in the port district you can live in. I promised Ronan I would take care of you."

Four years ago, after a drunken night, he’d pulled me into his bed and made me his secret lover. Four years later, under the guise of responsibility to his most trusted ally, he was offering me a place to stay.

The 'thoughtfulness' of his gesture was absurd.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Valeriano," I said, forcing a smile. "I'm an adult. I can take care of myself."

As soon as he signed the resignation letter and I completed the final handover, our ridiculous four years would be completely over.

And me? I was getting married.

The morning sun streamed into the hotel room as I opened my eyes. For the first time in years, I felt more clear-headed than on any morning I had ever spent with Sterling.

I hailed a cab and returned to the penthouse I’d called home for four years. The moment I stepped inside, however, I almost thought I had walked into the wrong house.

The once minimalist and elegant space was now drowned in gaudy luxury.

The entryway wall, where I had begged him for a month to let me hang a unique painting I'd found, was now a glittering sheet of gold leaf.

"Scarlett likes it this way," Sterling's voice came from behind me.

I turned around. He looked a little uncomfortable.

"She came by yesterday. She wasn't happy to see your things."

Then he pointed to several black trash bags by the door, and I understood.