Too Late For Regret, Mr. Underboss

Two days later, Nero moved to an apartment closer to the Syndicate’s legitimate front.

He didn't even tell me he was leaving; he just packed a bag and went.

The next morning, I quietly listed the fortified penthouse we shared for sale.

Using a stack of pre-signed blank authorizations Nero had carelessly left in the study, I bypassed the Syndicate’s internal alarms, ensuring the transaction would remain invisible to him until the funds cleared.

While packing my clothes, I found a black folder in the back of the closet.

It contained highly classified Syndicate documents belonging to Nero.

I knew he needed them for the upcoming territory meetings, and out of ingrained habit, I decided to return them.

I drove across the city to his new safe house.

The hallways of the apartment building were eerily quiet, the lighting dim.

As I reached his door, I stopped.

Muffled laughter drifted through the thin wood.

I recognized the rough voices of Nero’s core soldiers.

Then, amidst their deep baritones, I heard Valentina’s sharp, trilling laugh.

I held my breath, leaning closer to the door.

“The rumors about that bouquet are ruining my reputation,” Valentina complained coyly.

“You have to clear my name, Nero.”

A soldier made a suggestive, joking comment about how she looked holding the flowers, drawing a low whistle.

Nero’s voice followed, casual and drawling.

“Rumors always die down,” he said dismissively.

His tone was identical to the one he used to handle my concerns.

In the dark hallway, a chilling realization hit me.

Nero didn't care about the taboo of an office romance.

He only cared that being with me provided no strategic advantage to his rise in power.

“What about those wedding invitations Siena is supposedly sending out?” another soldier asked.

Nero scoffed loudly.

“Let her play her games.”

He sounded bored with the topic of my departure.

“I’m not going,” Nero added arrogantly.

“She needs to understand that tantrums don't sway a future Godfather.”

A low chuckle rippled through the room.

“So, do you have other plans for Valentina then?” a soldier asked half-jokingly.

Valentina giggled again, the sound grating.

Nero didn't deny it, nor did he offer a single word in defense of my honor.

Instead, I heard the men agreeing that Valentina was far more useful to the family than I was.

I looked down at the classified documents in my hand, the weight of misplaced loyalty feeling like a lead weight in my chest.

I placed the black folder gently on the floor, right at the threshold of the door.

Then, I turned and walked silently back into the shadows.