The Mafia Princess He Abandoned Became An Art Queen Chapter 06
I sent back a simple “Okay.”
Melissa replied almost immediately. “Aren’t you happy?”
“I am. Just not as happy as I thought I’d be.”
“Why?”
I thought about it. “Maybe because she can’t affect me anymore.”
A moment later, she sent a string of hug emojis.
I locked the screen and turned a page in my book.
The Tower was still lit outside my window.
The next morning, I went out for bread. My phone rang.
Unknown number. Country code +1.
I hesitated, then answered.
“Rossella… it’s Mamma…”
Donna Conti’s voice was rough and unsteady, catching on the first word.
I was standing outside the bakery with a warm croissant in my hand, the smell of butter rising around me.
“Rossella, Mamma was wrong. Come home, please.”
“Irene is gone. This house is yours. You are our daughter…”
I shifted the croissant to my left hand and held the phone with my right.
“Donna Conti.”
Silence on the other end.
“Don’t call me that…”
“Is there something you need? If not, I’m hanging up.”
“Rossella…” She was crying so hard she could barely breathe. “I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see the way you looked at us that night, in the dining room, in your bedroom…”
I closed my eyes.
When Don Conti slapped me, she’d been standing right beside him. She hadn’t said a word.
I opened my eyes again.
“Donna Conti, I walked into the Conti estate, and I walked back out. I’m not going back.”
“Rossella…”
I hung up.
My finger hovered over the screen for two seconds, then I blocked the number.
I slipped my phone into my pocket and bit into the croissant.
Butter flooded my mouth. Flakes scattered onto my scarf.
I brushed them off, turned around, and went back inside for a hot latte.
The wind was cool on the walk home, and I pulled my scarf up higher.
Under the bare plane tree in front of my building, someone was standing.
Black coat. Thin frame. Stubble shadowing his jaw.
Mario.
He saw me and took two steps forward, then stopped.
Like he wasn’t sure he was allowed any closer.
I stood three paces away, holding my latte.
“Why are you here?”
“I broke off the engagement.” His voice was hoarse. “Rossella, Irene and I are no longer engaged.”
“I know.”
“So…” I took a sip of my latte. “What does that have to do with me?”
The color drained from Mario’s face. His lips moved, but nothing came out.
“When you slapped me across the face, did you ever imagine this day?”
“When you smashed my computer, did you ever imagine this day?”
“When you handed my work to Irene, did you ever imagine this day?”
With every question, he stepped back.
Eventually, he was pressed against the trunk of the plane tree, hands shoved into his coat pockets, fists clenched so tightly the fabric bunched.
“Rossella, I…”
“Go home.”
“Mario, you never loved me. You loved the version of Brightness who made you laugh through a screen. You loved the shadow behind the keyboard, the one who built your dreams for you.”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I walked past him.
As the door closed behind me, I heard him say, very softly, “I’m sorry.”
I went upstairs and pulled the curtain back just a little.
Mario was still standing under the plane tree, head bowed, shoulders slack.
I let the curtain fall.