The Principessa and the Shattered Bottle

My belongings were stuffed inside, a chaotic jumble of memories now treated like garbage.

The first gift Sterling ever gave me—a platinum cufflink engraved with my initials—was crushed beyond recognition. The matching ceramic pieces we had made together were shattered.

He let out a soft sigh.

"These things don't belong here. Get rid of them. If you need anything, I'll buy you new ones."

"Don't belong"?

My gaze fell upon a small, custom whiskey bottle amidst the wreckage.

The bottle was cracked, revealing the exquisite engraving of the date we met. It was a birthday gift I had prepared for him, every detail carrying my unspoken love.

I picked up the broken bottle and, along with the other shattered mementos, threw them all into the apartment's incinerator chute.

Sterling's brow furrowed, but I simply offered a faint smile.

"You're right, Mr. Valeriano. Worthless things should be burned when they get dirty or broken."

That included my foolish, misplaced feelings.

I ignored the storm that gathered in his expression, lowered my head, and took the resignation letter from my bag.

"Mr. Valeriano, this is my..."

Before I could finish, his phone rang.

Scarlett Monroe's voice cut through the quiet of the living room.

"Sterling, it's raining, come pick me up."

The emotion on his face vanished instantly. He didn't even glance at the document in my hand as he scrawled his name at the bottom.

"Take a cab back. Text me when you get there."

As Sterling left in his private elevator, the rain turned into a downpour.

The penthouse was at the top of a tower in the financial district, and with the sudden downpour, hailing a cab was impossible. So, I opened my umbrella and started walking toward the ground-level garage.

My heel skidded on the slick marble. I went down hard, a sharp pain lancing through my knee and elbow.

Ignoring the pain, I clutched my bag tightly. My resignation letter was inside. If it got wet, I'd have to see him again, and I refused to do that.

Just then, a familiar black, bulletproof car sped out of the garage. It didn't slow as it passed, and the resulting splash drenched me from head to toe.

Through the rear window, I caught a glimpse of Scarlett, her makeup perfect, sitting beside Sterling as he gently dabbed raindrops from her hair.