The Mafia Heir Gave My Wedding To My Sister Chapter 07
So Adrian called me.
I didn’t check the number and picked up out of habit.
On the other end, Adrian’s voice was impatient. “Emma, quit this. Come back now. We’ll go straight to the Maldives for our honeymoon.”
He motioned for his assistant to come over. “I’ve already picked the spot—that island you love.”
He waited a beat, then softened his tone. “I know you’re a little upset this time, but your sister has it hard too.”
“Do you really need to hold it against her?”
“That Cartier bracelet you like—I’ve already had it sent to your place. Go open the door.”
But when he glanced at his phone, he realized I’d hung up at some point without him even noticing.
Adrian kicked the corner of his desk. “This is never going to end.”
But then it occurred to him that I was only acting this way because I loved him, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.
“Getting harder and harder to win over.”
He thought about what I was like when we first started dating.
The same as now—bright, fierce, unafraid to love, unafraid to fight.
Maybe he’d never actually fallen for Lily at all.
Maybe he’d just been dazzled by the novelty.
And once that wore off, he realized the only person who could truly move him—the only one who’d stood by him through the worst of it—was me.
He was about to head out to find me when the brand concierge called. “Sir, the address you provided is incorrect.”
Adrian frowned. “That’s impossible. Harbor View Apartments, Building Six, Unit Four.”
The concierge handed the phone to a stranger.
The man’s voice was curt. “Who is this?”
Adrian’s tone darkened. “Why are you in Emma’s apartment?”
The man snapped, “This place was sold to me three days ago. I don’t know any Emma. Don’t call again.”
The line went dead.
Adrian stood motionless.
A chill crept from his fingertips all the way into his chest.
That Harbor View apartment—they’d chosen it together.
It was his gift to me.
On my birthday that year, he’d pretended he hadn’t planned anything.
I was disappointed the entire day but still managed to smile and say, “It’s fine. I don’t need a present. Having you is enough.”
That night, he brought me to the building, took his hands away from my eyes, and placed the key in my palm.
“Emma, this is my safety net for you.”
“No matter what happens, I want you to always have a place to come home to.”
I cried in front of him for a long time that night.
All those years, no matter how much I’d suffered in the Moretti house, I never once considered selling that apartment.
I’d told him, “That’s my home.”
As long as it existed, there was still one warm place left inside me.
But now I’d sold it.
It finally hit Adrian—belatedly—that I wasn’t throwing a tantrum.
I was surgically removing myself from his life.
Panic flashed in his eyes. He turned to his assistant, his voice unsteady. “Find Emma Moretti’s location. Now.”
The assistant’s face was grim, but he nodded immediately.
While he waited, Adrian couldn’t sit still.
His gaze fell on the pot of mint on the windowsill, and the guilt crept in, slow and heavy.
Whenever his throat bothered him, I’d always say a little mint water would help.
That plant—I’d tended it myself, all this time.
When I was here, it was lush and green.
After I left, it wilted too.
Before long, the assistant walked back in, his expression tense. “Sir, I’ve located Miss Emma.”
Adrian was on his feet instantly. “Book a flight. I’m going to her.”
He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “She’s upset this time—she’s waiting for me to come make things right.”
The assistant hesitated, then shook his head. “Sir, I don’t think you can bring her back.”
Adrian stared at him.
The assistant’s voice dropped. “Miss Emma signed a five-year overseas contract. She’s at the Marseille office.”
Adrian’s expression froze solid.