A Mafia King’s Fiancée Healed His Nightmares, Then His First Love Returned Wearing His Dead Ring And Destroyed Her In Public

PART 2:

By midnight, the clip was everywhere.

The mafia king let go of his fiancée for the woman who once betrayed him.

That was what they called it.

They did not see Luca’s hand tremble before he released mine.

They did not see him freeze when Vivienne said Enzo’s name.

They only saw me break.

And they replayed it until my humiliation became entertainment.

I sat upstairs in his townhouse, still in my engagement dress, reading strangers laugh at my pain.

She healed him just so he could go back to his ex.

Would you stay after that?

I wanted to defend us.

But the truth was…

I no longer understood us either.

Luca had not come upstairs.

He had taken Vivienne into his study.

And locked the door.

At 3:17 a.m., I stopped waiting.

I walked downstairs barefoot.

Two guards stood outside the study.

“Move,” I said.

They moved.

Inside, Luca stood behind his desk, bow tie undone.

Vivienne sat across from him, crying beautifully.

“Elena,” he said.

“No,” I snapped. “Do not say my name like I do not belong here.”

Vivienne stood.

“I should go.”

“You should have stayed gone,” I said.

As she passed, she whispered, “He never stopped looking for you in other women.”

Luca’s voice turned cold.

“Enough.”

She left.

I looked at him.

“Tell me she lied.”

Silence.

Then he said, “I loved her once.”

My heart cracked.

I slipped off his grandmother’s ring and placed it on his desk.

“I healed you,” I said. “I did not become the safer version of the woman who broke you.”

Then I walked out.

For the first time, Luca DeLuca did not follow.

Two days later, an envelope arrived.

Inside was a photo of me asleep in Luca’s bed.

Taken from inside the room.

On the back, one sentence was written:

He let go once. He will do it again.

I should have called Luca. Instead, I called the police, like a woman pretending her life was still normal.

Detective Aaron Pike arrived in a dark coat, with tired eyes and a badge he didn’t use like a weapon. He studied the photograph too long, then looked at me. “You know who you’re involved with?”

“I know who I love,” I said. “That wasn’t my question.” “No,” I said. “It was your judgment wearing a badge.”

His eyes returned to the photo. “This was taken inside Luca DeLuca’s house.” “Our house,” I corrected. The words hurt, because I had left that house. And the ring. And maybe him.

Pike told me to lock my doors and not go anywhere alone. Then he said, “Luca DeLuca isn’t a boyfriend. He’s a storm. People near him get struck.”

After he left, I sat on my kitchen floor with every light on. The photo shook in my hand. My sleeping face. His sheets. Our room. Someone had stood close enough to touch me, and I had never woken up.

Three hours later, Luca appeared in my hallway. Not at the door. In my hallway. Of course his men had bypassed the lock. He looked ruined.

Then he saw the photograph. Everything in him went still. “Who gave you that?” “You tell me.” “Elena—” “No. I’m tired of concern pretending to be honesty.”

His voice dropped. “I stayed away because I thought he’d come for you if I came near.” I laughed once. “And did he stay away?”

His eyes fell to the photo. Shame hit him hard. “I’m sorry.” “You keep saying that like it heals anything.”

Then he finally told me the truth. “The ring Vivienne wore has a tracker.”

I froze.

“The black diamond was mine,” Luca said. “After she betrayed me, I hid a micro-transmitter under the setting. When she walked into the gala wearing it, my system caught the signal. That ring had been inside our house seventy-two hours earlier.”

“So when you let go of my hand…”

“I was trying not to put a target on your chest.”

Before I could answer, his phone rang. Luca looked at the screen. His face turned to stone.