Chapter 1

I packed the last of my things from the apartment into a box and sent my fiancé, William, a voice message.

[Let's break up.]

A second later, he replied, [OK.]

Across from me, my cousin Mia almost spilled her martini on the tablecloth.

"You two were together for seven years, about to get engaged, and it's over just like that? How is it that when I dump a guy, it turns into a whole dramatic saga?"

"Still, I have to admire you. Giving up your life as the family’s Princess to build everything from scratch with him."

I slowly stirred my coffee, the bitter taste flooding my mouth.

"Because he never listens to my voice messages."

I tossed my phone onto the table and pushed it toward her. Her eyes landed on the screen, on a long list of unplayed voice messages.

For the past seven years, my conversations with William had been a one-way street. The rare 'Mm' from him was the most enthusiastic response I could hope for.

I had grown used to his cold nature long ago.

Until I saw a long voice message on his phone, played in its entirety. It was from his childhood friend, Tessa.

In that moment, I finally let go of the sliver of hope I had been clutching for seven years.

And now, it was time for me to return to the Miller family as its heiress.

Chapter 1

When I saw that voice message, William was still fast asleep beside me.

The phone's cold glow lit up my face.

I subconsciously opened our chat, and the long line of unplayed messages made my eyes sting.

In the dead of night, my tears began to fall.

William always said he was busy with work, that he hated pointless online chats and disliked listening to voice messages even more. I knew all of this.

Over the last seven years, I had tried to rationalize it, to make my peace with it. This was just the person he was.

But that long, fully played voice message was a sharp blade that shattered my defenses.

Tessa. The girl he grew up with, and his so-called business partner.

They played polo together, went to the opera together, spent weekends together, and could discuss the latest financial market trends every day.

Their chat history took up more storage space than all seven years of our conversations combined.

It’s only through comparison that you realize how fragile love can be.

The image of William I had loved for seven years shattered in that instant.

"Baby…"

He frowned in his sleep. "Come here."

Perhaps my suppressed sobs had stirred him. William moved, half-awake.

He sleepily reached out and scooped me into his arms.

His scent, a mix of pine and woodsmoke, enveloped me. It was the scent I'd once told him suited him best.

At that moment, the tears I'd been holding back finally broke free, flowing uncontrollably.

He did love me, he did… even in his sleep, he would reach for me.

For a second, I wanted to shake him awake, to demand an explanation, to cry and scream.

But I was just so tired.

I pressed myself against William's warm skin, but his heart felt a million miles away.

This bed was too wide.

I lay on my side, my back to him, for the rest of the night, letting silent tears soak into the pillow.

I knew it was time for my seven-year relationship with William to end.

The next morning, I contacted my family directly.

Hearing the voice of my father, the Don of Miller family, on the other end, I said only one sentence: "Papa, I want to come home."

Half a month. That was enough time for the Miller family to handle everything cleanly, erasing all traces of my civilian life.

Those next fifteen days became a countdown to my departure.

Every day, my family’s men would quietly come and take a few more of my things.

And through all this, William noticed nothing.

Even this morning, as he was putting on his suit to leave, I took a call from my father's Capo. "Yes, after he leaves. Use the main entrance. And make sure it’s clean."

He was standing right beside me, tying his tie, but he never even glanced my way.

In the afternoon, after having lunch with Mia at that little bistro, I returned to the apartment we shared.

The apartment was under William's name, intended to be our marital home.

Though we weren't married yet, I had moved in early to make things easier.

I used to think that marriage was just a ceremony, that we were already husband and wife.

Now, I realized that in this relationship, I was always the one who was more invested.

Looking at the half-empty closets, I wanted to see, just one last time, how long it would take for a man who lived by his instincts in the financial markets to notice his fiancée was emptying out their home.

I had just settled onto the sofa when the electronic lock on the front door beeped.

"You're back early today."

William spoke casually as he loosened his tie and changed his shoes, his tone no different from usual.

Just as I'd thought. He hadn't listened to the voice message.

As if on autopilot, he had automatically replied with an [OK.]

I opened my mouth, but a wave of bitterness rose in my throat, impossible to swallow.

"You didn't make dinner tonight?"

William glanced at the empty dining table, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

Unless he had a special engagement, I would usually bring back his favorite dishes from our regular Italian restaurant.

I said nothing. He tossed his briefcase onto the sofa and disappeared into the study.

Through the door, I could hear the sound of his keyboard.

And the start-and-stop of a voice message playing. It was clearly Tessa.

I remember I once lost my temper over something like this, getting into a huge fight with him. He had been so impatient, thinking I was being unreasonable.

"I live with you every day. What else is there that we have to say on the phone? If it's urgent, you can call me. If it's not, we can talk about it in bed when I get home."

"Tessa is different. We don't see each other every day. Isn't it common sense to talk business online?"

His logic was flawless, perfectly crafted to shut me down.

I rubbed my aching temples and walked back to the bedroom.

When I came out again, William had already ordered steak for delivery and was elegantly cutting into it.

There was only one plate on the table.

I let out a trembling laugh. "Why did you only order one?"

"Hm? You want some?"

He finally glanced at me for a second. "I thought you were on a strict diet so you could fit into your gown for the engagement party."

As he said this, William's gaze remained fixed on his knife and fork. If he had just looked up, he would have seen the tears welling in my eyes.

But he didn't.

"William, we need to talk."

I took a deep breath and pulled out a chair to sit, but he set down his fork and stood up.

"I don't have time."

Chapter 2

"I have a meeting with Tessa about a new deal."

He turned his back on me, leaving me with the dirty dishes and an empty, pushed-back chair.

In that instant, all the oppressive weight in the room seemed to press down on my chest.

I felt like I was suffocating, as if my mouth and nose were sealed shut with plastic wrap.

The study door was ajar. They were already on a voice call.

"William, the polo open at White Sail Bay is next week. Interested? I've been looking forward to this for half a year."

"I knew you'd want to go. I already got the VIP tickets. I'll take you tomorrow."

"You always know me best!"

"I happened to hear some investors mention it today, so I pulled some strings to get the tickets right away. Wanted to surprise you."

Every word out of William's mouth was like a blow, landing one after another.

For Tessa, he always had time. He was always thoughtful and considerate.

For me, all I ever got was: "She's a friend. You're my fiancée. Can you even compare the two?"

William, did you know? If being your wife means enduring this kind of pain, I'd rather go back to being strangers.

With a bang, I kicked the study door open.

William spun around, fumbling to cover his microphone.

His brow furrowed, his eyes flashing with a mix of confusion and annoyance at being interrupted.

"Tomorrow is our appointment to try on wedding dresses. Did you forget?"

My voice was sharp, a clear accusation.

He finally sensed something was wrong, a conflicted look crossing his face.

"I already promised to go to the polo match with Tessa tomorrow. I even have the tickets."

"Why don't you go try on the dress by yourself? It's not like the man does anything but sit around anyway. Or you could ask Mia to go with you."

In a split second, he had expertly produced an alternative plan and an excuse.

Accompanying his fiancée to a dress fitting was a trivial matter. Accompanying his childhood friend to a polo match was the top priority.

"No."

I refused without the slightest hesitation, my words slow and deliberate.

William glanced at his screen; Tessa's voice was still urging him to reply through his headset. He was getting anxious.

"Charlotte, can't I have my own life, my own plans?"

"Just because we're engaged, does that mean I have to be attached to you twenty-four-seven?"

His words were so self-righteous, I almost laughed out loud.

In the last seven years, when had he ever revolved his life around me?

During the day, not so much as a text from his office on Wall Street. At night, he'd hole up in his study the moment he got home.

He hadn't lifted a finger to help plan our engagement. I even picked out the engagement ring by myself...

His life was packed to the brim, just not with me.

I stared into his eyes, a profound wave of disappointment washing over me. "William, is getting married something I'm doing all by myself?"

My voice was heavy with exhaustion. Here I was, the most respected mafia Principessa of the underworld, begging for my fiancé's attention.

"You're being ridiculous."

William spat the words out coldly and put his noise-canceling headphones back on, clearly unwilling to spare me another word.

"Women can be so irrational."

He complained into the microphone, his tone lightening.

"Tessa, you'd better never be this unreasonable."

His casual taunt was met with Tessa's light laughter from the other end of the line.

Another day passed.

Let him go to the polo match with whomever he wanted. Soon, I wouldn't need him to accompany me to anything ever again.

William and I met in college.

Back then, William's pursuit of me was the stuff of legends. The possessiveness in his eyes whenever he looked at me was impossible to miss.

When we first got together, he would do almost anything I wanted to do: go for walks, see plays, even sit with me from morning to night while I did crafts and other girly things.

I always knew he wasn't one for texting, but whenever we met in person, his passion and tenderness were undeniable.

"I don't like texting. Typing is a hassle, and listening to voice messages is a hassle."

"I'm like this with everyone."

I believed him at the time and accepted his way of doing things.

I kept telling myself, this is just who he is.

He was a little rough around the edges, with not much patience, but I really loved him.

Later, when our relationship stabilized, he introduced me to Tessa. We would occasionally go to the country club to play tennis.

I didn't have the talent for it, nor the interest, so I quit after a while, thinking it was good that someone was there to help him relax.

I should never have seen the endless chat history between him and Tessa, a thread you could scroll through forever.

Chapter 3

Or the fact that under every single one of Tessa's social media posts, William never missed a like, never failed to leave a comment.

He could send Tessa long voice messages when he had insomnia at two in the morning, but in those moments, he never once thought of me.

It felt like I had swallowed a handful of broken glass.

That night, William didn't come back to the bedroom.

He stayed in the study, talking to her all night, their conversation punctuated by bursts of synchronized laughter.

The next morning, I left a note on the console table in the entryway.

Before I wrote it, I glanced at the calendar on my phone. Only three days left of the fifteen-day countdown.

[See you at the bridal shop.]

[There's something I need to discuss with you.]

He could ignore voice messages and pretend not to see messages.

But this was a place he had to pass before leaving. A note, in black and white. Surely he couldn't pretend not to see this.

But I had forgotten that some people aren't blind; they just choose not to see you.

The bridal shop was on the west side of town, its floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto an old, cobblestone street. I sat on a velvet sofa, watching couple after couple walk in hand-in-hand, and then leave, smiling.

The shop assistant refilled my glass of lemon water three times.

Finally, as the sky darkened, the manager approached, a look of unease on her face.

"Miss Miller, we're... about to close."

Her hesitant politeness was more humiliating than outright pity.

I smiled, picked up my bag, and walked out.

I wandered the streets aimlessly, my thumb instinctively swiping open Tessa's social media feed again and again.

The latest post, from half an hour ago.

[A perfect day.]

The accompanying photo was from the VIP box at the polo match. On the edge of the frame was a hand wearing a mechanical watch. It was William's.

If moving my things out of the apartment was the first test I had set for him, this time, I wasn't even going to give him a second chance.

On the way back, the car was stopped at a red light as it turned onto the street below our apartment building.

My eyes drifted to the terrace of the open-air bistro across the street. It was a place William and I used to go to often.

The figure with his back to me was all too familiar.

Tessa sat across from him, gesturing animatedly.

Then Tessa looked up and saw me in the car. William followed her gaze and turned his head.

Amidst the lights and chatter, a complicated tension settled between the three of us, as tangible as the soft strains of the violin.

"Charlotte, come sit here!"

Tessa was the first to react, quickly pulling out an empty chair and warmly beckoning me over.

"How did the fitting for that French-style wedding dress go today?"

She feigned nonchalance, trying to smooth over the situation.

William's fingers, holding his wine glass, stiffened almost imperceptibly.

Before I could speak, William immediately waved over a waiter.

"Another white truffle pasta, a beef carpaccio, and a bottle of sparkling water."

I knew what he was doing. It was a guilt offering.

This was his way of extending an olive branch, a way that didn't require a spoken apology.

The restaurant was efficient, and the fragrant pasta was soon served.

"Eat it while it's hot. It's the pasta you always like."

I stared at the expensive dish, not moving.

William frowned. "What's wrong? I thought you loved white truffles."

Beside him, Tessa covered her mouth and let out a small laugh. "You have such a bad memory. I'm the one who loves white truffles."

William froze for a second, then scratched the back of his neck and turned to me, his face full of apology.

"Babe, I'm so sorry, I got them mixed up…"

I knew he hadn't gotten us mixed up. He had simply never known.

For seven years, I had always been the one to accommodate his tastes, and he had taken it for granted.

And not only had William forgotten what I liked, he had also forgotten my severe allergy to white truffles. The kind that lands you in the hospital.

But then, what else had he forgotten? This was just one more thing on the list.

I lowered my eyes and picked up my silver fork, twirling the pasta.

Right there, in front of him, I ate every last bite of that fragrant dish.

Late that night, the allergic reaction came as expected. My body was on fire, my skin breaking out in large, terrifying red welts.

As I stumbled out of bed to find my anti-allergy medication, the kitchen light was on.

I thought William had finally realized something.

But he was just getting a glass of water. He walked right past me.

"What are you looking for, rummaging through everything in the middle of the night?"

He asked casually, his tone lazy. He didn't even turn his head.

He took his water back to the bedroom, not waiting for my answer.

He didn't care about anything that was wrong with me.

Clutching the bottle of prescription medication, I sank weakly onto the cold hardwood floor, tears blurring my vision.

At that moment, our seven-year relationship was dead. Whatever love I had for William was gone.

That night, I opened my phone and, one by one, I canceled everything related to the wedding: the dress, the venue, the engagement ring.

By the time I canceled the last item, the clock had just struck midnight.

I quietly watched the time change on my screen. The countdown to my departure was down to its final twenty-four hours.

Chapter 4

The next day, I was woken by William's voice.

"Why are you sleeping out here?"

"What happened to your face? Why are you covered in hives?"

He knelt beside the sofa, his deep eyes filled with genuine alarm.

It was the first time in days that we had truly made eye contact.

But the feeling was so foreign, it only made me feel more distant.

"Shit!"

"I can't believe I forgot you can't have white truffles!"

Guilt finally registered on William's face. He immediately canceled all his meetings and rushed me to the hospital.

In front of the doctor, he played the part of a flawless, incredibly attentive fiancé.

"Your fiancé is so caring."

The nurse who changed my IV drip glanced at William, who was standing by the window on a call, and gave me a conspiratorial wink.

But as I watched his frantic figure, my heart felt like a pool of stagnant water, without a single ripple.

If he really cared about me, I wouldn't be lying here getting emergency treatment.

A humorless smile touched my lips, but I said nothing.

The IV dripped for three full hours. William stayed by my bedside the entire time, not even touching his phone.

The screen lit up several times, but he steadfastly ignored it.

I knew, deep down, that as a rising star in the financial world, he really didn't have a habit of idle chatting during work hours.

All those countless messages with Tessa were exchanged on weekends and late at night.

But that was time he could have given to me. He just chose not to.

On the drive back to the apartment, he kept glancing over at me. "By the way," he said, as if suddenly remembering. "You left a note yesterday saying you needed to discuss something. What was it?"

My fingers, about to unbuckle my seatbelt, paused.

So he had seen the note. And he remembered it clearly.

I shook my head and refastened my seatbelt. "It's nothing anymore."

There was nothing left to discuss.

William kept trying to make conversation in the car, talking about some colleague, asking what I wanted for dinner.

I couldn't hear a single word.

"I'll make you some light soup when we get back, how about that?"

He said this as he strode out of the elevator, but his words trailed off as he stopped short.

I followed his gaze and saw the woman waiting outside our door.

Tessa was crouching by our apartment door, hugging her knees.

Beside her was a bouquet of flowers and a half-eaten hamburger.

Tessa scrambled to her feet, rubbing her legs, her eyes slightly red.

"I called you five times and you didn't answer. You didn't reply to my texts. I thought something had happened to you."

Her voice was laced with a hint of a plea, but her eyes flickered toward me.

"So… are we still going?"

A conflicted look crossed William's face. He subconsciously glanced back at me.

I knew that look all too well.

I didn't look at him. I walked past them both and pushed the door open.

He hesitated for a few seconds, then followed me into the entryway, lowering his voice to a placating whisper.

"I'll just take Tessa out to take care of something. You rest at home, okay? I promise I'll be back soon."

Tessa followed him in, the bouquet in her hand still dripping water.

I looked up and said flatly, "Be my guest."

Perhaps finally sensing the coldness in my tone, William changed his mind.

He spoke in a low voice from outside the bedroom door. "Okay, then I'll just take Tessa home."

"There's warm milk in the kitchen. Remember to drink it."

Hearing the heavy front door click shut, I came out.

I walked to the kitchen island. The glass of milk was still steaming gently.

I took the glass and sat on the sofa, watching the wall clock.

One hour passed, then two. The sky outside darkened, but the door never moved.

I knew he wouldn't be back.

After seven years, I knew him too well.

From the moment he said, "I'll just take Tessa home," I knew the rest of his day wouldn't belong to me.

I sat at the table and drank the now-cold milk, sip by sip.

Then I washed the glass, placed it upside down on the drying rack, and wiped down the table. It all felt like my old routine, no different from before.

As the second hand on the clock ticked over to five p.m. exactly.

I picked up my last suitcase. The fifteen-day countdown had finally reached zero.

I glanced back one last time.

This apartment, where I had lived for three years. I had naively believed it was my sanctuary, a place to escape my family's dazzling legacy, a real home for me and the man I loved.

Now, it was clear it had all been a joke, my own wishful thinking.

The moment the door closed behind me, my seven-year relationship with him was locked away with it.

Downstairs, a fleet of black bulletproof SUVs was waiting.

Men in dark suits bowed respectfully as I approached. “Welcome back, Principessa Charlotte,” the lead Capo said, opening my door.

I slipped into the back of the car, leaving William’s world behind forever.

When William hurried back to the apartment, the place was pitch black.

He called my name twice. No response.

In that instant, his heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. Alarm bells screamed in his head.

He started frantically calling my phone.

The first call went to voicemail.

The second, the phone was off.

By the last attempt, the number was no longer in service.

He switched to our chat and sent a string of question marks. None of them delivered.

His fingers trembled.

He scrolled to the very top of our conversation and finally opened the voice message from three days ago, the one he had never bothered to listen to.

[Let's break up.]

Just a few seconds. A few words.

William stared blankly at the two-letter word he had so casually typed in reply: [OK.]

His hand trembled, and with a clatter, the phone fell to the floor.