Chapter 8

Elena POV

The sound of shattering glass is distinct. It is high-pitched, violent, and absolute.

I was standing by the valet stand outside the auction house when it happened.

Sofia sauntered out, hanging off Luca's arm. She was tossing the crystal ball in the air, catching it, giggling.

"It's so heavy, Luca. What does it even do? It's just glass."

"Be careful with it," Luca said, distractedly lighting a cigarette.

"Oops."

She opened her hands.

Time seemed to warp and slow down.

I watched the sphere fall. I watched it hit the concrete pavement.

It didn't just crack. It exploded.

Shards of quartz skittered across the sidewalk, glittering under the streetlights like ruined diamonds.

"Oh no," Sofia said, her voice flat and entirely unapologetic. "My hand slipped."

I fell to my knees.

I didn't care about the dress. I didn't care about the people watching.

I crawled onto the pavement, gathering the pieces.

Sharp edges sliced into my palms. Blood welled up, mixing with the dust on the quartz until the stones turned a muddy crimson.

"Elena, get up," Luca hissed, looming over me. "You're embarrassing me."

"It's broken," I whispered, my voice trembling. "It's all broken."

"I'll buy you another one," Luca said, stepping closer. He looked at my bleeding hands with disgust masked as annoyance. "It's just a rock. I'll get you a bigger one tomorrow."

I looked up at him.

Tears blurred my vision, but my hatred was crystalline.

"You can't buy another one," I said. "It was one of a kind."

"Everything has a price, Elena."

"Not this."

I stood up, clutching a handful of sharp shards against my chest. The blood stained the silk of my dress.

"I'm taking a taxi," I said.

"Get in the car," Luca ordered.

"No."

I turned and walked away.

For the next three days, a suffocating silence reigned in the Falcone estate.

I didn't speak to him. I didn't look at him.

I moved through the house like a wraith, packing boxes in my mind.

Luca tried to fix it the only way he knew how.

He came home with boxes. Crystal vases. Diamond necklaces. A massive, tacky glass sculpture of a lion.

"Here," he said, kicking the boxes toward me in the living room. "Replacements. Better quality than that junk you cried over."

I didn't even look up from my book.

"You're being a brat," he snapped. "I'm trying here."

"You're trying to buy forgiveness, Luca. I'm not selling."

He stormed out.

That night, he got drunk. His soldiers called me from a bar downtown.

"Mrs. Falcone, the Don is... indisposed. He's asking for you."

"Call Sofia," I said.

"But... he's asking for his wife."

"Then tell him his wife is dead."

I hung up.

I went upstairs and pulled my suitcase out from under the bed.

I packed efficiently. No clothes. No jewelry.

Just the wooden bird. The watch. The bloody shards of quartz wrapped in a silk scarf.

The door banged open downstairs.

Luca was home.

He stumbled into the room, smelling of whiskey and rage. He saw the suitcase.

The air left the room.

"Where do you think you're going?"

He crossed the room in a blur of motion, grabbing my wrist. His grip was bruising.

"Answer me!"

"Vacation," I lied, my voice unnaturally calm. "I'm going to Paris for a week. To shop. To get away from you."

He searched my face, looking for the lie.

"You're leaving me."

"I'm going shopping, Luca. Let go."

His phone rang.

He ignored it.

"You don't take a suitcase for a shopping trip."

"I do when I plan to buy a new wardrobe."

The phone rang again. And again.

He glanced at the screen. Sofia.

"Answer it," I said. "She probably broke a nail."

He looked at me, then at the phone. The alcohol made him slow, confused.

He answered.

"Luca! Help me!" Sofia screamed through the speaker. "There's someone outside my apartment! I saw a gun! Please!"

Luca dropped my wrist.

The suspicion in his eyes vanished, replaced by the instinct to protect what he believed was his.

"I'm coming," he said to the phone.

He looked at me one last time.

"We talk when I get back. You don't leave this house."

He ran out.

I listened to the roar of his engine fading into the distance.

I picked up my suitcase.

"Goodbye, Luca."