When The Queen Burned Her Name

To experience a normal life, I walked away from my throne as "Scarlet," the head of the world's most feared criminal empire.

In the first year after I moved to New York City to open an art gallery, I met Dante, the heir to the Falcone family.

We were in love for three years. He was my boyfriend, my protector, and he spoiled me rotten.

But he never took me to any of his family's events.

I later learned it was because his family saw me as a nobody—an artist with no connections and an untraceable past.

After all, the Falcones were one of New York's Five Families. In their world, I was just an insignificant artist running a small gallery.

Knowing the chasm between our worlds was too wide to ignore, I decided to finally tell him the truth.

But just as I made my decision, I overheard a phone call between him and his father.

They were finalizing the wedding details. His wedding, to Sofia, the heiress of the Moretti family.

It turned out that while he was whispering sweet nothings in my ear, he had already accepted an arranged marriage.

So, I made a move of my own.

I slipped the signet ring back on my finger, the one that marked me as "Scarlet."

If I didn't belong in his world, it was time to return to mine.

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1

On the other end of the line, my Consigliere, Marco, spoke deferentially.

"Boss, when are you coming back? There's a mountain of paperwork at headquarters, and several branches are awaiting your orders."

His thoughts must have turned to my life here, because he then asked cautiously, "And the Falcone heir? Should we assign a detail? He still doesn't know who you are, does he?"

"That won't be necessary. I'm breaking up with him."

At the mention of Dante, my voice was glacial. "I'll tie up all the loose ends here within three days."

That night, Dante didn't return to our penthouse. I didn't care.

The next day, I closed the gallery for good.

After settling the paperwork, I treated a few close friends to a farewell dinner.

Knowing I was leaving New York, one of them joked, "Elara, closing up shop so suddenly... You're not secretly running off to claim a trillion-dollar inheritance, are you? Right out of a movie."

A faint smile touched my lips. "Something like that. I have some family business to attend to."

Everyone froze for a beat, then erupted in laughter.

They thought I was joking, another one of my dry remarks.

I laughed along with them, not bothering to correct their assumption.

After dinner, I dragged my suitcase back to the apartment.

When I pushed the door open, to my surprise, Dante was home.

Seeing me wheeling a suitcase in, his brow furrowed. "Are you going to Europe for a buying trip?"

I couldn't be bothered to invent a lie, so I just nodded, pulling the suitcase toward the bedroom.

"Wait a minute."

He moved quickly, stepping in front of me. "I thought you loved the gallery, that every day was a new adventure. Why the sudden trip?"

I met his gaze, a ghost of a smile on my lips. "Because more important things came up."

"What things?"

"Trade secret."

Dante chuckled, thinking I was playing with him. "Since when did my little artist get so mysterious? You work too hard. You need a break."

"Elara, you know I can take care of you. You don't ever have to work again if you don't want to."

"I don't need anyone to take care of me," I said, my voice sharp. "I will never be an accessory to anyone's life."

Dante looked taken aback, opening his mouth to explain.

I cut him off. "Why are you home so early?"

"I've been too busy lately and haven't spent enough time with you. I was worried you'd get the wrong idea, so I canceled a family meeting today."

Dante reached out, his arm circling my waist as he leaned in to kiss my cheek. "Baby, where do you want to go? I'm all yours."

His expression was tender, his eyes filled with an affection so deep you could drown in it.

A month ago, this would have melted me.

He was, after all, the Falcone heir, a man who controlled a significant portion of New York's underworld, his schedule always impossibly full.

Clearing his entire day just for me was a testament to how much he cared.

But now, all I saw when I looked at his handsome face was the man on the phone, discussing wedding plans.

Was he busy with family meetings, or busy planning a wedding?

How could he approve wedding invitations with Sofia on one hand and whisper that I was his one and only on the other?

The acid words burned the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them down.

Whatever. It was only for a few more days.

Soon, I would vanish from his life as if I'd never been there at all.

I sidestepped his embrace, my gaze sweeping over the framed photos in the living room.

"Dante, let's clean out the storage room. Things collect dust when they sit for too long. It's time to throw out what needs to go."

"Sure. Whatever my gorgeous girl wants," Dante said with a broad grin, grabbing a trash bag. He thought I was just in a tidying mood.

Slowly, however, he began to realize that everything I was clearing out was a piece of our history.

The first painting he bought for me, our anniversary photo from the Hamptons, the custom handgun he’d commissioned just for me, the photo booth strips from Italy...

One by one, I fed them to the fireplace, my expression impassive.

The smile on Dante's face slowly dissolved, his eyes tightening.

When the platinum lighter engraved with my initials—a gift from just yesterday—also landed in the flames, he finally snapped.

"Elara, did you hear something?"

"What would that be? Do you have some secret you've been hiding from me?"

I paused, turning to face him, clinging to one last, foolish sliver of hope.

If he'd just confessed, right then and there... I might have found it in me to forgive him. One last time.

But he didn't.

Dante's gaze darted away, refusing to meet mine.

After a long, heavy silence, he took my hand, his voice raspy.

"Elara, no matter what you heard, you need to remember one thing. I love you. Only you."

A soft, hollow laugh escaped my lips. The last ember of warmth in my heart turned to ice.