Twelve Years Later, His Canary Flew Away

I stopped at the restaurant's entrance, replaying Soren's words in my head.

So arrogant. He really thought his word was law.

He thought he could tempt me with the promise of enormous wealth.

He thought I would abandon my principles for money, for status, for some so-called "future," and follow him to Italy like a puppy.

He was dreaming.

If I cared about those things, I wouldn't have rejected old Don Moretti's proposal three years ago.

That old man had promised me control over the entire East Coast art market if I married him.

What would I have needed Soren for then?

He knew exactly how I felt but chose to ignore it. And I was tired of trying to explain.

After all, he found placating me to be a huge hassle, and I found explaining myself to him just as tiresome.

Thank God I had finally woken up.

Back in the restaurant, Darrel noticed my expression and insisted on taking me to his private art gallery.

"You need to clear your head," he said softly, his eyes gentle.

I nodded and followed him out of that suffocating place.

I could finally breathe a little.

At least here, no one was trying to manipulate me with promises of what I stood to gain.

The gallery was quiet. Darrel walked with me past each painting.

"Are all of these from your collection?"

"Some of them," Darrel said, stopping in front of an abstract piece. "Others are on consignment from friends."

"You know about art?"

"Not an expert. But I know what's good."

He turned to look at me, his gaze serious.

"Like your work. I've seen it. There's a real tension to it."

It was the first time anyone had described my paintings that way.

Not "beautiful," not "talented," but "tension."

We spent two hours in the gallery.

Darrel didn't ask me a single question about Soren, nor did he show the slightest curiosity.

He just quietly looked at the art with me, occasionally exchanging thoughts on a piece.

For the first time in a long time, I felt truly respected.

But as we were leaving the gallery, we ran into a grim-faced Soren.

He looked at Darrel, his eyes hostile.

I knew he was jealous.

But I had no desire to explain myself.

I treated him as if he were thin air.

As I headed for the parking lot, I overheard his conversation with Marco.

"Boss, what's with Abby? Does she think she's grown wings?"

"Women," Soren's voice was laced with impatience. "They're all like this."

"She's being a pain in the ass right now, but she'll come around."

"How can you be so sure?"

"What's she going to do without me? Paint?" Soren sneered. "Without my protection, she wouldn't last a day in this world."

"Besides, the opportunities in Italy... she won't be able to resist."

"Women are practical. Once she really thinks it through, she'll be on that plane to Italy."

He still saw me that way.

Soren spotted me and quickly sent Marco away.

"Your conversation," I said, looking him straight in the eye, "was fascinating."

Soren cornered me against a wall.

"I'm sorry, what I just said..."

"It was honest," I cut him off. "You finally said what you really think."

"Abby, that's not what I meant."

He reached out to touch my face, but I pulled away.

"Are you coming with me to Italy or not? Just answer me that," he asked again, as if certain I would eventually break.

"Our future is in Italy now, not Northern Europe. Do you finally understand that?"

"It's crystal clear."

"Good." He breathed a sigh of relief. "I knew you'd understand."

"The opportunity in Italy is incredible. The Rosetti family's power..."

"What I've realized is that we don't have a future."

The smile froze on Soren's face.

"What?"

"You heard me."

I turned to walk away, and he tried to grab me.

But Monica's voice rang out from behind him.

Perfect. Her arrival gave me the perfect excuse to leave.

"Soren, I've been waiting for you forever," she whined, her voice sickeningly sweet.

"Monica, what are you doing here?" Soren immediately turned to her.

"I was worried about you."

Monica linked her arm through Soren's, then looked at me.

"Abby, I'm so sorry. I know you might be upset, but..."

"But the family business has to come first."

"I hope you can understand."

She put a hand on my arm, stopping me as I tried to leave.

"After all, we both just want what's best for Soren, right?"